RETREAT CUT OFF.
Two or three days after Georgia’s visit to the Lady Nafiza, messengers
from Rustam Khan reached the city, announcing that his expedition had
been entirely successful, and that he was bringing back with him the
servants and baggage-animals of which the travellers had been
deprived. This was good news, and once more preparations for departure
occupied all those in the Mission. But before the triumphant general
had returned to the capital, and while Stratford and Dick were still
superintending the packing of cases which it was necessary to pile up
in the front courtyard until the means of transport arrived, Mr Hicks
looked in to bid farewell to his English friends. His mules and camels
had not been impounded, and he was therefore able to start on the
morrow. Stratford was somewhat surprised that he did not defer his
journey for a few days, and ask permission to attach himself to the
Mission caravan; but Mr Hicks explained that he preferred to travel in
comfort, and not to find all the inns occupied, and the markets
cleared at every stopping-place along the route, by the train of the
British Envoy. He did not add that he was calculating on bringing to
Khemistan the first news respecting the Mission that had arrived since
the interruption of communications, or that he anticipated driving an
excellent bargain for himself and the paper he represented by the sale
of the unique information he possessed; but he had a proposal to make
to Stratford which rather surprised him.
“I guess you calculate on being able to make tracks in safety now, Mr
Stratford, but I don’t know that I am quite with you there. I allow
that you have had almighty luck, and that you have plucked the flower
success from the nettle danger in a style I admire. A month ago I
would have bet my bottom dollar that you would never leave
Kubbet-ul-Haj without conducting another high-class funeral in that
burial-lot of yours, and reading the Episcopal service over the old
man, any way. But there’s real grit in you, sir, and I don’t mind
making you a present of that acknowledgment before the general public
throughout the universe gets hold of it in the columns of the ‘Crier.’
Still, I don’t consider that the prospect before you is exactly a
shining one. It would have taxed Moses himself to fix your return trip
satisfactorily. Once you get outside these walls, you will have to
defend the whole outfit by the light of nature, for you have never
been on the Plains, any of you.”
“Still,” said Stratford, with some coldness, “Major North is an
experienced soldier, and Mr Anstruther----”
“Is an amusing young cuss. I beg your pardon for taking the words out
of your mouth, Mr Stratford, but I can reckon up those two boys as
well as you can. Major North is a pragmatic piece of wood, that would
stand to be cut to pieces rather than budge an inch----”
“Excuse me if I interrupt you in my turn, Mr Hicks. Major North is my
friend, and if I hear any more disparaging remarks about him I shall
feel bound to turn you over to Miss Keeling. She would know how to
resent them properly.”
“You are right, sir, she would. And that brings me to my point.
Thinking over your position here, and the probability of the King’s
turning nasty (for I guess there are few crowned heads that would care
to send away in peace a man that had driven them to change their minds
by the gentle compulsion of a cocked six-shooter), I concluded this
morning to offer to escort the ladies to the frontier. I travel
lightly, and stand to cover the ground much faster than your big
camel-train, and there is no animosity against me. If they are once
safe in Khemistan you can come on behind with the old man and the
baggage, and feel easy in your minds. Now don’t get riled and say
things you’ll be sorry for afterwards, Mr Stratford. I am not
impugning your prudence, nor yet your powers of fighting. We have to
face facts. It gives any one who is inclined to be troublesome a
colossal pull over you that you have the ladies to look after, and if
they were put in safety it would diminish at once your anxiety and
your liability to attack.”
“What do you think North will say to this?”
“Who bosses this show, Mr Stratford? If Major North displays an
unbecoming spirit, put him under arrest. You are too sweetly
reasonable with the boys ever to do much good with ’em.”
“But you don’t imagine that the ladies would go?”
“That is for them to decide. Give them their choice, any way. I guess
if they won’t go, they won’t; but let ’em have the chance.”
Stimulated by the equitable spirit displayed by Mr Hicks, Stratford
broached the subject to the ladies during tiffin, and was not
surprised to find that they received it with most ungrateful scorn.
Lady Haigh simply expressed her determination to remain with Sir
Dugald at all hazards (a resolution which Mr Hicks, in a talk with
Stratford afterwards, unfeelingly likened to that of Mrs Micawber),
and Georgia refused with much emphasis to desert her patient. To the
no small amusement of Mr Hicks, he discovered, from a piece of by-play
which attracted his notice, that Dick, once fully assured that she
would not go, was disposed to suggest, with an air of superior wisdom,
that it might be wiser if she did.
“You know, Georgie,” pathetically, “that I should feel ever so much
happier if I knew you were in safety.”
“My dear Dick,” solemnly, “nothing would induce me to go, under any
circumstances.”
“Not if I told you that it was my wish?” tenderly.
“If you are wise, Dick, you won’t attempt to bring into play in this
case any authority you may imagine that you possess,” warningly; “nor
in any other case in creation, either,” interjected Mr Hicks, _sotto
voce_.
Thus it happened that Mr Hicks started on his journey alone, and that
the ladies formed part of the procession which filed out of the
Khemistan gate of Kubbet-ul-Haj about a week later. A comfortable
litter, carried by two mules, had been procured for Sir Dugald, but
only the household servants were aware of the nature of his illness,
or knew how completely it incapacitated him for ordinary life, and
Ismail Bakhsh and his subordinates formed a bodyguard round the
litter. It was their business to keep any idea of the truth from
reaching the camel-men and mule-drivers, who were regarded with a
certain amount of suspicion on account of their long separation from
the rest of the party. One or two of the servants who had originally
accompanied the Mission from Khemistan had died during the interval;
several, according to the testimony of their jailers, had succeeded in
making their escape, and the places of these had been filled up by
Ethiopians, so that it was just as well to allow them to imagine that
although the terrible Envoy was so ill as to be unable to mount his
horse, and must be carried in a litter like a woman, yet he still
directed the course of affairs, and gave orders which Stratford merely
carried into effect. Jahan Beg accompanied the travellers for the
first few miles of their journey, and parted from them on the crest of
a rise from which the first view of Kubbet-ul-Haj could be obtained by
those approaching the city.
“I wish I could have gone with you as far as the frontier,” he had
said to Stratford, “but I daren’t leave the city just now. I believe I
am on the brink of discovering a very neat plot between the Scythian
agent, who ought to be across the border by this time, but is supposed
to be detained by illness at a village only a day’s journey off, and
Fath-ud-Din’s adherents. I think I have tracked nearly all the
participators, and when I am ready I shall give them a surprise. The
plan is, of course, to get rid of me and destroy the English treaty.
By the way, I hope you are careful of your copy. Accidents will
happen, and if that should be stolen or destroyed, it would be a big
score for them. If you should chance to be detained anywhere by
sickness or a difficulty in obtaining provisions, you will do well to
send on some one you can trust, with ten or twelve well-armed men, to
make a dash for Rahmat-Ullah, and put the treaty in safety. Our copy,
of course, is safe as long as I am, but no one can tell how long that
will be. All Fath-ud-Din’s fortresses are refusing to yield except to
force, which is another thing that makes me think they anticipate a
speedy return to the old state of affairs, and I shall be obliged to
send Rustam Khan with the army to reduce each one in turn. You will
have to pass not far from two of them; but if your guides are
trustworthy and know their business, they ought to take you by without
even coming in sight of them. One of the forts ought to be mine, which
makes its resistance all the more irritating. Fath-ud-Din did me out
of it with the help of some devilry practised by the old witch whom he
keeps to get rid of his friends for him. Perhaps I shall get it back
now. Well, good-bye; keep an eye on your guides and a tight hand over
your men and the escort, and when you get the welcome you deserve at
home, don’t quite forget the man who disappeared.”
He shook hands with the rest of the party, and turned away abruptly to
begin his ride back to the city. As Georgia looked after him,
something of pity rose in her heart. After all, the only tragedies in
Kubbet-ul-Haj were not those of the older women with their woful past,
and Nur Jahan with her comfortless future. There was tragedy also in
the story of the man who for life’s sake had given up all that
ennobled life, and who had gained so much that he found was valueless,
and lost so much that he now knew was invaluable. Alone in the great
cruel faithless city, his only memorial of the visit of his friends
the rough tablet which marked Dr Headlam’s grave, his only trustworthy
companion the wife whose love he had slighted, his daily occupation
the search after any means by which he might succeed in maintaining
his position on the slippery height he had reached--there was little
reason to envy Jahan Beg.
The march which now began was by no means devoid of incident, but
during the first few days, while the caravan was still in touch with
the city, everything went well. It was when the dried-up pasture-lands
and the scattered villages had all been left behind, and only the
sands of the desert were to be seen on every side, that the troubles
of the Mission began again. Their commencement was marked by a small
but alarming mutiny among the escort of irregular cavalry, who accused
their captain of appropriating to his own use half of the _bakhshish_
promised them as a reward for their services, which had been handed
over to him at the beginning of the journey for distribution among his
troopers. It had been arranged that each man should receive the
remainder of his share when Fort Rahmat-Ullah was reached, but they
demanded that it should be paid down immediately, if they were to
escort the Mission any further. To yield to this attempt at extortion
was manifestly impossible, since there was nothing to prevent the
men’s demanding extra gifts until the travellers were bereft even of
the necessaries of life; but nothing less than a complete surrender to
their wishes would satisfy the mutineers. The English met informally
in Stratford’s tent to consider the situation (it was early in the
morning, and the preparations for the day’s march were interrupted by
this untoward event), and admitted to their councils the Ethiopian
captain, who had brought the news that the men refused to move until
their demands were conceded.
“If we don’t stop this at once,” said Dick, “things will get serious.
Stratford, I should be glad if you would leave the matter to me to
deal with.”
“By all means,” said Stratford; “but what do you intend to do?”
“Make an example of the chaps that are stirring them up,” said Dick,
grimly, taking out his revolver and making sure that all the chambers
were loaded.
“But we shall have to get hold of them first,” objected Stratford.
“Exactly. That’s what I’m going to do.”
“Stuff! You are not going down among them alone, I can tell you.”
“We can’t waste more than one man over this business. Look there,” and
he threw a significant glance at the trembling Ethiopian captain, “you
can see what he thinks of it. I’ll take Ismail Bakhsh with me. Lend
him your revolver.”
“Oh, Dick, what are you going to do?” asked Georgia in astonishment,
as she met Dick outside the tent, revolver in hand, with Ismail Bakhsh
stalking after him with inimitable dignity and determination, his
right hand thrust into his girdle.
“Never mind. Go back into your tent, and don’t show yourselves, any of
you,” returned Dick, sharply. She obeyed without hesitation; but since
he had not forbidden her to watch him, she took advantage of a hole in
the canvas to gain a view of all that passed. From the sandhill on
which the tents were pitched she could see the soldiers in their camp
below, gathered round an orator who was haranguing them, while no
preparations for starting were visible. She saw Dick march calmly into
the throng, elbowing his way through the men with little ceremony, and
dislodge the orator forcibly from the unsteady rostrum of
biscuit-boxes which he occupied. When she next caught a glimpse of him
he was on the outskirts of the crowd again, holding his prisoner by
the rags which represented his collar, and propelling him vigorously
in the direction of the tents, assisting his progress now and again by
a hearty kick. The rest of the troop appeared to have been stupefied by
the suddenness of the onslaught, but just as Dick was free of the
throng, Georgia saw another man leap up upon a box and call out to his
fellows to rescue their leader. The spell was broken, and there was an
ugly rush, while weapons were hastily caught up.
“Arrest that man, Ismail Bakhsh,” said Dick, without looking round;
“and if he won’t come quietly, shoot him.”
Ismail Bakhsh obeyed in perfect silence, and led his captive up the
hill after Dick, the troopers once more making way for him without
attempting to use their weapons. Arrived at the summit, Dick paused
and looked back.
“Dismiss!” he said, in a sharp, harsh voice such as Georgia had never
heard from him before, and the mutineers, understanding the order by a
species of intuition, dispersed quietly, while Dick and Ismail Bakhsh
passed on to the tent with their prisoners.
“Georgie, what is the matter?” cried Lady Haigh, as Georgia dropped
the canvas flap with a gasping cry, and staggered back against the
tent pole.
“Only that I have just watched Dick take his life in his hand,” she
explained, breathlessly. “For the last ten minutes I have been
thinking that I should never see him alive again.”
In Stratford’s tent a hasty and extremely informal court-martial was
held immediately for the purpose of trying the two prisoners, and here
the management of affairs passed out of Dick’s hands. He was in favour
of shooting both men on the spot, as an encouragement to the rest, but
Stratford shrank from the idea; and the piteous entreaties of the
Ethiopian captain, who pointed out that if such a sentence were
carried into execution his life would not be worth a moment’s purchase
when he started to return home alone with his troops, were allowed to
prevail upon the side of mercy. It was difficult to devise a suitable
punishment under the circumstances; but finally the two men were
deprived of the semblance of uniform they possessed, and driven out
into the desert on foot by the servants, provided with a meagre
allowance of bread and water. They would not starve, unless they
wilfully remained where they were instead of retracing their steps
along the road they had come, but it was probable that they would have
an extremely unpleasant experience before they found their way back to
the habitations of men.
The lesson proved to be a sufficient one, and the troopers, with
sullen faces, returned to their duty, imbued with an added respect for
Dick and an increased hatred and contempt for their own commander.
They made no parade of either of these sentiments during the day’s
march, but the net result of them was visible the next morning, when
no soldiers could be found. They had ridden away during the night from
their bivouac on the outskirts of the camp, leaving their watch-fires
alight to deceive any observers, and in his tent the body of their
captain, pierced with many wounds.
“A wound for each man,” said Ismail Bakhsh, contemplating the dead man
with mingled curiosity and disgust; “and see here, the rebels have
left a gift for my lord.”
[image: images/img_09.jpg
caption: “See here, the rebels have left a gift for my lord.”]
He lifted from the spot where it had been laid at the side of the
corpse a long curved dagger, the handle and sheath of which were of
silver, curiously chased and encrusted with turquoises. A scrap of
paper partially burnt, which had apparently been picked up after being
used as a pipe-light and thrown aside, was wrapped round the lower
part of the blade, and a few words in Arabic characters were traced
upon it.
“‘To the General Dīk,’” read Ismail Bakhsh with interest. “It is the
dagger which my lord admired when he saw it worn the other day by one
of those forsworn ones. At least they know a man when they see one,
evil though they are.”
“You can bring the thing to my tent,” said Dick. “I will keep it as a
curiosity. And now, Ismail Bakhsh, we must see this poor wretch
decently buried before we go on. You and your men had better perform
the proper ceremonies, and we will fire a volley over his grave by way
of giving him a military funeral.”
Leaving the scene of the tragedy, he communicated to Stratford his
impressions of the state of affairs, and they agreed to minimise as
far as possible the importance of what had occurred when in the
presence of the ladies. Accordingly, they talked cheerfully of the
advantage of being rid of the escort of a mutinous and discontented
body of troops, and said nothing of the unwelcome thought which had
suggested itself to Dick, that the mutineers might have taken it into
their heads to ride on in advance, so as to lie in wait for the
caravan at some awkward corner. The body of the unfortunate Ethiopian
captain was buried with military honours, and the cavalcade, now much
diminished in numbers, took the road again.
The next difficulty that confronted the leaders of the party was
caused by the action of the guides, who came to Stratford that evening
and begged that he would allow the usual order of the march to be
changed for the next few days, so that the journey should be carried
on at night, and the necessary halt take place during the hours of
daylight. The Mission, they said, was now approaching the region
dominated by Fath-ud-Din’s two fortresses, Bir-ul-Malik and
Bir-ul-Malikat, and it was all-important that its passage should not
be perceived by the watchmen upon the walls. This appeared at first
sight very reasonable, and Stratford and Dick, having heard what the
men had to say, and dismissed them, found themselves somewhat at a
loss as to their answer.
“If we were sure that we can trust these fellows,” said Stratford, “it
would be all right, but Jahan Beg warned us against them particularly.
Then, again, why didn’t they state when we engaged them that it might
be advisable to make night marches for part of the way, at any rate
while we are in the sphere of influence of the garrisons of these
forts?”
“Oh, as to that,” said Dick, “no doubt they would say that they didn’t
bargain for the soldiers mutinying and deserting us, and thought that
under their escort we should be safe enough, even in the daytime. But
I don’t like this nocturnal idea for two reasons. We should be quite
unable to identify the features of the country at night, and they
might lead us astray without our discovering it; and moreover, if the
mutineers or Fath-ud-Din’s friends should happen to mean mischief, a
night-attack on the column as it marched would simply smash us up. We
should have more chance in daylight, or even in case of a night-attack
on the camp, for the baggage gives us a certain amount of cover when
it is properly piled and the beasts picketed.”
“But on the other hand, if the guides are trustworthy, we are doing a
very mad thing in rejecting their advice.”
“Quite so; we have a choice of evils. But if you remember, Jahan Beg
was of opinion that the fellows ought to be able to take us past the
forts without our even coming in sight of them, so that this
exaggerated carefulness seems unnecessary.”
“Then you are for going on as we are? It’s an awful risk, North, if
things should go wrong.”
“I have more at stake than you have, old man, and you may depend upon
it that nothing but the firmest conviction that this course is the
safest would make me advocate it. Of course, you boss this outfit, as
Hicks would say----”
“Oh, nonsense!” said Stratford. “I am not going to back half an
opinion of my own against all your experience. We will stick to our
morning and afternoon marches, North.”
The decision thus reached was duly communicated to the guides, and
received by them with sulky acquiescence. The next day’s march was
uneventful; but the aspect of the country was gradually changing, and
becoming more rocky, although it remained as barren and
parched-looking as before. The halt that night was made at the foot of
a steep cliff, which afforded protection in the rear, while a
breastwork of baggage and saddles, arranged in the form of a
semicircle, gave some guarantee against a successful attack in front.
Again the hours of darkness passed without alarm, but the equanimity
of the party was disturbed at breakfast by a domestic misfortune.
Rahah, in floods of tears, came to inform her mistress that the white
cat was lost. On the journey Colleen Bawn was always Rahah’s special
care, travelling on the same mule, and occupying the pannier which
contained Miss Keeling’s toilet requisites, and which was balanced by
the maid in the opposite one. On this particular morning Rahah had
sought her charge in vain. She knew that the kitten was generally to
be found by Georgia’s side at breakfast-time, laying a white paw on
its mistress’s wrist with dignified insistence when it had reason to
imagine itself forgotten; but this morning the tit-bits remained
unclaimed on Georgia’s plate. Rahah had searched the whole camp, she
said, and Ismail Bakhsh’s son Ibrahim had helped her, but they could
not find the white cat; and would the doctor lady request the
gentlemen to stop the loading, and set all the men free to look for
it? They had sworn to find the doctor lady’s pet if it took them all
day to do it, and they knew that the little gentleman (this was the
undignified name by which Fitz was invariably known among the
servants) would help them.
“I am afraid we can hardly sacrifice a day for such a purpose,” said
Stratford, wavering between politeness and a sense of his
responsibility as leader, as Georgia looked across at him; but Dick
showed no such hesitation.
“Miss Keeling would never think of your doing such a thing, Stratford.
To hang about here, of all places, while Anstruther and the servants
looked for a lost cat, would be a piece of criminal folly--one might
almost say wickedness. We can’t risk the lives of the whole party for
the sake of a cat. Here, ayah--take another good look about while we
finish breakfast, and if you haven’t found the beast when we’re ready
to start, we must leave it behind.”
Georgia’s face flushed as she stirred her coffee deliberately. She had
no wish to risk the lives of the whole party by insisting on delay,
but it was not Dick’s place to say so for her. It looked as though he
had no confidence in her, that he should not allow her even the
semblance of a choice, and confidence was what she demanded above all
things. It flashed upon him presently, noticing her silence, that he
had hurt her, and he bent towards her to say in a low voice--
“I say, Georgie, you don’t mind much, do you? Are you awfully keen on
the little beast? I’ll buy you dozens when we get to Khemistan. But
you wouldn’t have us waste time now?”
“You have quite put it out of my power even if I wished it,” returned
Georgia, coldly; and Fitz, at the other side of the makeshift table,
was filled with a sudden and violent hatred against Dick. It was not
the first time that this feeling had entered his mind--in fact, it
merely slumbered intermittently, and awoke whenever Dick and Georgia
had a difference of opinion, no matter which side was in the right.
Fitz had no desire to quarrel with Georgia’s choice, for his loyalty
was too unquestioning to admit a doubt of her wisdom in the matter;
but that the highly-favoured man who was honoured by the love of this
peerless lady should be so blind to the grace bestowed upon him as
actually to contradict and even to bully her (this was Fitz’s
rendering of what he saw) was only an awful illustration of the depths
to which human depravity could descend. At such times as this all the
boy’s faculties were on the alert to render some service, however
great or small, to his lady, which might assure her that even though
Major North possessed no due sense of the overwhelming privileges she
had granted to him, there were others who still counted it an honour
to be able to anticipate her least wish. It is slightly pathetic to be
obliged to record that Georgia accepted his good offices without at
all appreciating the sentiment from which they sprang--indeed, so
ungrateful is human nature that, had she discovered it, she would
probably have rejected them with contumely, and poured out the vials
of her wrath on the head of the luckless youth who dared to criticise
Dick--and that she valued the slightest attention from her lover far
above all that Fitz could offer, in spite of the much greater
disinterestedness of the latter’s endeavours. But this only proved to
Fitz more clearly still her excellence, as exemplified by her absolute
loyalty to the man of her choice, and stimulated him to continue to
render his unselfish services.
The efforts of Rahah and her fellow-servants to find Colleen Bawn
proving ineffectual, the march began at the usual time, although not
until after Dick had personally conducted Georgia to the top of the
cliff, that she might see whether the kitten had found its way
thither; but the rough scramble to the summit and the difficult
descent were alike undertaken in vain. Doubtless, said Rahah, with an
indignant glance at Dick, the white cat had curled itself up in some
cleft of the rocks and gone to sleep, and it would be easy for the men
to discover it if they searched systematically, although a cursory
look round was useless. But no delay was allowed, and Rahah settled
herself mournfully in her pannier, and snubbed Ibrahim whenever he
came near her--a course of treatment which, while it failed to
irritate him, proved most serviceable in working off her own bad
temper.
Important though this storm in a tea-cup was to the two or three
persons immediately interested, the leaders of the party had far
weightier matters to consider. The march had lasted some two hours and
a half when Stratford, who had been riding at the head of the caravan
with one of the guides, turned back and joined Dick, whose post, when
he was not on duty, was naturally at Georgia’s side.
“What do you think of the look of the weather, North?”
“I don’t like it. See what a dirty sort of colour the sky has turned.
I should say we were in for a storm.”
“That’s just what these fellows say. A sand-storm is what they
prophesy; but that’s all rot, I suppose.”
“Oh no. We can get up very tolerable imitations of the real thing in
these desert tracts, but they are not particularly frequent. However,
the guides ought to know; and if they say there’s one coming, we had
better look out for some sort of shelter.”
“The guides make out that there’s a ridge of rocks somewhere about
which would protect us to a certain extent, but they don’t seem very
sure of their ground. The ridge might be any distance between ten
minutes’ walk and half a day’s journey ahead of us, from all I can
discover.”
“We’ll send young Anstruther and two men on in front to reconnoitre a
little, while you and I and Kustendjian see what we can get out of
these fellows. Why, where is the child gone? Hi, Ismail Bakhsh, where
is the _chota sahib_?”
With a face as ingenuous as that of the youthful Washington when he
resisted the historic temptation to mendacity, Ismail Bakhsh replied
that he had last seen the little gentleman at the rear of the column,
not thinking it necessary to add that it was at a considerable
distance to the rear, and that Fitz was riding in the opposite
direction to that in which the column was proceeding.
“Well, we can’t wait to fetch him up from the rear,” said Dick,
looking back over the long caravan. “I will ride on and do the
scouting, Stratford, while you and Kustendjian cross-examine the
guides. It would be just as well to pass the word along for the men to
step out a little faster, don’t you think?”
Stratford agreed, and the pace of the caravan was a good deal
accelerated in a spasmodic kind of way. Dick and his followers
returned from their reconnaissance in a little over half an hour, by
which time the gloomy hue of the sky was much intensified, and the air
had become quite hazy. Stinging particles of grit were driven against
the face as the riders moved along, and sudden gusts of wind, coming
short and sharp, now from one point of the compass and now from
another, were chasing the sand hither and thither in little eddying
whirls.
“We have found the place!” cried Dick, as he rode up. “Pass the word
to hurry, Ismail Bakhsh; it’s not much further on. And bring up one of
the camels with the tents. We must get up some sort of shelter for the
ladies.”
The ordinary dignified pace of the caravan was now exchanged for a
helter-skelter mode of progression, which was extremely trying to the
mind of Dick, when he saw the confusion which was engendered in the
ranks by the haste he had recommended. It was more like a disorderly
race than peaceful travelling, and the different bodies of servants
were inextricably mixed up.
“What a gorgeous chance for the enemy if they saw us now!” he said to
himself. “The only thing is that they are probably just as much taken
up with the storm as we are.”
No long time elapsed before the friendly ridge of rocks was reached,
and the tent erected under its shelter. Sir Dugald was carried inside,
Lady Haigh and Georgia and their maids followed, and the canvas was
fastened down tightly. Stratford and Dick, remaining outside, did
their best to create some sort of order out of the chaos which surged
around them as the servants and baggage-animals came pouring up. There
was no time to unload the mules and camels, but they were brought as
close under the rocks as possible, and the men found shelter among
them. When the last straggler had come in, Stratford turned suddenly
to Dick.
“Where can Anstruther be?” he said.
Before Dick could hazard an opinion, the storm burst upon them with a
roar, and they were glad to follow the example of the guides, and hide
their faces from the blast. The wind shrieked among the rocks, and
swept down with tremendous force upon the closely-packed mass of men
and animals, carrying with it quantities of sand and minute pebbles,
which had a blinding effect upon the eyes. Inside the tent the women
waited in hot stifling darkness, with the fine sand making its way in
at every seam and covering everything. During what seemed hours they
heard no sounds but the whistling and howling of the wind without.
Then there arose a chorus of shouts and yells and curses, mingled with
the grunting of camels and the shrill squeals of protesting mules.
Some kind of fierce struggle seemed to be going on outside; but it was
impossible to discover its nature, for the fastenings of the tent
refused to yield to the efforts of the prisoners, and no one answered
their calls or appeals for information. At last, just as Georgia drew
out a pair of surgical scissors and began deliberately to cut a slit
in the tough double canvas, the flap of the tent was thrown back, and
Stratford entered, bare-headed and breathless.
“The beasts have stampeded,” he explained, “and the guides and
servants are all gone after them. We have been rushing hither and
thither, catching and securing any animal we could get hold of, and
shouting to the men to keep quiet and not to give chase. But we might
as well have spoken to the rocks. Ismail Bakhsh and his men and the
house-servants were the only ones that listened; the rest all rushed
away after their own animals. Of course that only drove them further
off, and they must be scattered over the whole country round by this
time. I fear we must have lost most of the baggage, for what we have
saved is a very small amount, and strikingly miscellaneous in
character. But no doubt the men will manage to find their way back
here by degrees, and then----”
A sudden exclamation from Dick interrupted him, and he stepped
outside. Lady Haigh and Georgia followed, only to be pushed back into
the tent, and desired angrily to cover their faces with their
_burkas_. Facing the little knot of startled men and frightened
baggage-animals which now represented the great Mission caravan were a
troop of horsemen, who had taken up, under cover of the storm and the
stampede, such a position as to preclude any attempt to escape on the
part of those they were hemming in.