with a sense of danger and oppression strong upon him. Like most men
who pass their lives at sea, or in uncivilised parts of the world, he
seemed to be possessed of a sixth sense which always gave him warning
when there was peril at hand; and it was this sense which now brought
him broad awake in an instant, with his ears straining to catch the
least sound, and his eyes peering through the darkness to catch the
first glimpse of an intruder.
Like a wise man, he refrained from making the slightest sound that might
betray his whereabouts to a prowling assassin; but, slowly and very
carefully, he disengaged his arms from the blankets and reached out for
one of his revolvers. With this in his hand he felt much more
comfortable, and fully prepared for eventualities.
Then, sitting up carefully, Frobisher again listened intently for some
sound which might tell him the position of the danger, if any; but,
strain his ears as he might, he could catch not the slightest suggestion
of a warning. There was, however, a certain faint, peculiar odour in
the tent, which he felt sure proceeded neither from the canvas nor from
the blankets. Very faint indeed it was, and it would perhaps have been
quite imperceptible to anybody with a less keen olfactory sense than
Frobisher possessed; but it was there, all the same, and he felt that he
would very much like to identify it and determine its origin. It was
not unpleasant--indeed the suggestion was of a pleasant perfume, a
perfume which he had often smelt before; but what that perfume was he
could not for the life of him recall just at the moment.
One thing was certain, however, and that was that there had been no such
odour in the tent when he went to sleep; and it must therefore have been
brought in by somebody since then. Now, nobody but himself had any
business there, unless it were Ling come to wake him. But Ling would,
or should, have stood at the entrance and called him; or at the most, if
calling had not aroused him, have come boldly in and shaken him.
There was no sound, however, in the tent, and therefore the intruder, if
there were one, had no legitimate business there; and the more Frobisher
thought about the matter, the more certain he became that all was not as
it should be.
He therefore very slowly and very silently divested himself of his
blankets, leaving them in a bundle on the ground, and, with the revolver
still grasped tightly in his hand, started to crawl noiselessly toward
the open flap of the tent, which he located by seeing the glimmer of
stars shining through. At the same time he took care to keep close to
the side of the tent walls, so as to avoid, if possible, colliding with
his supposed unknown visitor.
The odour was much more pungent now, and Frobisher knew that in a few
seconds he would recognise it for what it was. Surely, he thought,
there was a suggestion of oiliness about it, and--then in a moment he
knew. The strange perfume was that of sandalwood oil, and he instantly
realised what the circumstance meant. There was a human being in the
tent, somebody who had planned murder, or robbery, or both; and the man
had oiled himself so that, if his intended victim happened to be awake
and grappled with him, he would be able to twist himself loose and
escape.
Frobisher was by no means easily flurried, but when he realised that he
was alone in a dark tent with a desperate man seeking his life; that he
was possibly within arm's-reach of the fellow at that moment; and that
in another second he might feel a long, keen blade sliding in between
his ribs, it was only with difficulty that he restrained himself from
firing off all six chambers of his revolver into the darkness, in the
hope that one of the bullets might find its billet.
And then, at the very moment when he felt that his nerves would bear the
strain no longer, the spell was broken. Suddenly there came a long,
hissing breath close beside him, and immediately afterward a terrific
thud, as something--Frobisher could easily guess what--was driven with
deadly force into the heap of blankets close beside him.
With a tremendous bound the young Englishman leaped forward, dropping
his revolver as he did so, and grappled with the intruder; but the man
had been prepared for any mishap by oiling his body, and twisted and
squirmed like an eel. So slippery was his skin that Frobisher, with all
his tremendous strength, recognised that he could not hold him. He
therefore gripped the fellow's wrist as firmly as he could with his left
hand, and drew back his clenched right fist for a knock-out blow. But
before he could deliver it he received a fearful kick in the stomach
from one of the man's feet--which luckily were bare, or he would have
been killed--and he doubled up like a jack-knife, involuntarily
loosening his grip on the other's wrist. In an instant the man had
gained the door of the tent, and was lost in the darkness, while poor
Frobisher lay upon the ground gasping.
It was fully ten minutes before he had so far recovered as to be able to
stand upright; but as soon as his strength returned he struck a match
and lighted a lantern. By its light he examined the pile of blankets
which had formed his bed, and, as he expected, found them pinned to the
ground by a long, wavy-bladed knife, very similar in appearance to a
Malay kris, which had been driven into the earth up to the very hilt by
a blow that would assuredly have killed him, had he continued to slumber
for another five minutes.
Frobisher drew out the knife, and tried to remember whether he had ever
seen it before--whether he had observed it in the possession of any of
the men composing the caravan; but he could not remember having seen a
knife of the kind in the hands of any of the drivers. He therefore
threw it aside, and cautiously opened the flap of the tent to see
whether there was any mischief going on outside. But all was silent,
and he could see some of the shadowy forms of the men on guard.
It was then half-past eleven, as he found by looking at his watch, and
too late to go to sleep again, even if he felt inclined.
Precisely half an hour later a figure appeared at the door of the tent,
and a voice observed quietly: "Time to wake up, mastel. You tellee me
wake you one piecee time twelluf. Twelluf now, and me welly sleepy."
It was Ling.
CHAPTER FOUR.
BETRAYED.
Frobisher scrutinised the Korean's face closely, but there was no shadow
of change in its Oriental impassivity. For all that the man's bearing
betrayed, he might never have moved from his post since the camp had
been pitched; yet the young Englishman could not rid himself of the
suspicion that Ling was not exactly what he appeared to be. Moreover,
now that the man was standing inside the tent, Frobisher again became
conscious of a faint suggestion of the odour of sandal-wood oil.
However, it would not in any way suit his plans to betray his suspicions
of the Korean at present, therefore he merely contented himself with
remarking quietly:
"Very well, Ling. You had better get to sleep, so as to be rested by
the morning; and I'll wake you as soon as it is time to break camp and
be stirring. By the way, I fancied I heard someone prowling about my
tent half an hour ago. I suppose you did not notice anything out of the
common, or you would have reported it to me at once, eh?"
"Me no undelstand `anything outel le common', mastel; what mastel mean?"
enquired Ling, his almond-shaped eyes opening in apparent puzzlement.
"I mean," replied Frobisher, rather testily--for he now felt almost
convinced that the fellow was trying to hoodwink him--"that I suppose
you are quite sure that no spy, no one belonging to the enemy, in fact,
approached or entered the camp while I was asleep and you were on
guard?"
"Oh!" exclaimed Ling, his face breaking out into a smile, "I undelstand
now. No, mastel; nobody not come neal camp. If anyone had come he
would be dead by now; me shoot any stlangel quick, without ask any
questions."
"All right!" answered Frobisher, permitting himself to be almost
persuaded against his better judgment that the man was honest, so
absolutely child-like and bland was his manner; "get away to your own
quarters and secure as much sleep as you possibly can, for we have a
long march before us to-morrow." And he turned away, to show Ling that
his presence was no longer required.
But at the moment of turning he could almost have sworn that he caught
sight of Ling's lips parted in a sardonic smile. Frobisher wheeled
again immediately, but when he once more looked at the man, the Korean's
face was as indifferently emotionless as though carved from stone, and
Murray was compelled to acknowledge that the expression which he thought
he had noticed must have been due to the flickering shadows cast by the
lantern that he carried in his hand.
Thus dismissed, Ling trotted off and threw himself down beside the inner
wheels of one of the carts, covered his face with a fold of his ample
cloak, and was, to all outward appearance, fast asleep on the instant.
Frobisher, after regarding the recumbent form for a long minute or more,
silently tiptoed away to his post of observation, having reached which,
he extinguished the lantern, making sure, first of all, that his matches
were ready to hand in his pocket, so that the light might not prove a
convenient target for any prowling sharpshooter of the enemy.
He remained motionless in the one position for at least half an hour,
and then, beginning to feel a trifle cramped from his spell of
inactivity, made up his mind to traverse the sleeping camp, in order to
assure himself fully that all was as it should be. Leaving the lantern
behind him, he made his way slowly and silently, by the dim light of the
stars, round the sleeping bivouac. And it was not until he had
completed the entire circumference of the circle and was back again at
his starting-point, that it occurred to him that he had not particularly
noticed Ling, who, of course, ought to have been lying asleep where
Frobisher had left him.
At once the Englishman's dormant suspicions again awoke into full
activity, and, lighting the lantern, he proceeded to repeat his
investigation, going his rounds in the opposite direction this time;
and, sure enough, when he came to the place where he had left Ling
lying, the spot was vacant--Ling had disappeared.
"Now what in the world is the explanation of this?" Frobisher asked
himself testily. "I'm certain there is something fishy about the
fellow, and I would give a trifle to be able to discover what game it is
that he's playing. Where, in the name of Fortune, has he got to now, I
wonder?"
As the thought passed through his mind he heard a sudden, suspicious
sound right on the other side of the camp. The idea it conveyed to him
was that a man had tripped or fallen over something; and this suggestion
was strengthened when, immediately afterward, certain low muttered words
in the Korean tongue, which sounded remarkably like a string of hearty
expletives, issued from the same quarter. And the voice was undoubtedly
that of Ling.
Frobisher whipped the revolver out of his pocket and leapt like a deer
in the direction of the sound, arriving on the spot just in time to
discover Ling sitting upright on the dewy grass, alternately rubbing his
head and his shins. The Englishman stood looking down at the other for
a few moments, and in that brief interval found time to notice that his
feet were soiled and plastered with fresh clay, which had certainly not
been on them when Frobisher had left him half an hour previously. It
was also certain that he could not have accumulated that clay within the
confines of the camp, for the space where the wagons had been drawn up
was carpeted entirely with grass, and there was no vestige of clay
anywhere within the circle. Frobisher therefore felt more convinced
than ever that Ling was something very different from what he
represented himself to be.
"Well, Ling," he remarked sternly, after a pause, during which the
Korean had been vigorously rubbing himself, "what's happened to you?
Where have you been; what have you been doing?" And as he spoke he
brought his right hand slightly forward, so that the rays of light from
the lantern which he carried fell upon the gleaming barrel of his
revolver.
Ling observed the motion, and shrank back guiltily. "Oh, mastel," he
quavered, "me thinkee me heal a sound ovel hele--fol me too flightened
to sleep--and me come hele to see what the mattel."
"What kind of sound did you think you heard?" queried Frobisher, looking
the man square in the eyes.
Ling tried to return the gaze, but failed. His almond-shaped eyes met
the other's for a few seconds, and then turned ground-ward.
"Me believe me heal someone moving ovel hele," he replied, "and so me
came see if anybody tly to get in."
"Then what did you fall over?" asked Frobisher.
"Me go look see if anybody hiding outside camp," explained Ling glibly,
"and me fall ovel shafts of calt coming back. Me no see clealy without
lanteln," he continued, volubly.
"If you believed you heard a movement," said Frobisher, "why didn't you
come and tell me, instead of going yourself? Besides, it seems strange
that you, who ought to have been sleepy after your spell of duty, should
have noticed those suspicious sounds, while I, who was wideawake, heard
nothing."
"No undelstand, mastel," said Ling, regarding Frobisher with a blank
stare.
"No, you scoundrel!" retorted Frobisher angrily; "you only understand
just what suits you, don't you? However, understand this, my fine
fellow," he went on, bringing the revolver into full view, and shaking
it in front of the now thoroughly frightened Korean; "if I find that
you've been up to any tricks, I'll shoot you, as sure as my name's what
it is, so you had better be very careful. Do you understand that? Very
well, then; get over to your place and lie down; and mark this--don't
let me catch you slinking about this camp any more to-night. Savvee?"
"Me savvee plenty, mastel," replied Ling, gathering himself up and
hobbling away. He added some other words in his own language, in a tone
that sounded anything but reassuring; but as Frobisher was totally
unfamiliar with the Korean tongue, he was compelled to let the matter
pass unnoticed.
The remainder of the night slipped away without interruption. But
shortly after the incident above referred to, Frobisher noticed that the
stars were becoming obscured, and about two o'clock in the morning rain
began to fall, softly at first, then increasing in volume until, in half
an hour after the beginning, it seemed as though the very bottom had
fallen out of the heavens, and thus allowed the water pent up there to
fall upon the earth in an overwhelming cataract.
One by one, as they became chilled by the wet, the sleepers awoke, and
crawled drowsily either into or beneath the carts; and soon Frobisher
was the only human being in sight anywhere in camp. He was quickly
drenched to the skin, but realising how excellent a screen for rushing
the camp this downpour would make, he remained at his post, shivering
with cold, for the rest of the night; and by the time that morning
dawned, was feeling weary and wretched.
As soon, however, as the first hint of dawn paled the eastern sky, the
rain ceased as suddenly as it had begun, and Frobisher aroused Ling and
gave him orders to call the men to their breakfast, so that an early
start might be made.
When Frobisher poked his head under the hood of the cart where the
Korean had taken refuge from the rain, he somehow very strongly
suspected that that individual had been awake and sitting up at the
moment of his approach; yet he was obliged to shake the man vigorously
for a full minute before he could be made to comprehend that it was time
to bestir himself.
As soon as Ling permitted himself to realise this fact, however, he
sprang from the cart with an admirable assumption of briskness, and soon
had the mule-drivers at work preparing breakfast and inspanning the wet
and wretched-looking mules. He even took the trouble to light a fire
himself and prepare a cup of hot tea for the "mastel", for which the
drenched and shivering young Englishman felt sincerely grateful.
The young man had taken only a single sip, however, when he detected a
very peculiar taste in the liquid, and spat the mouthful out on to the
ground, with an exclamation of disgust. Happening to glance upward at
the moment, he caught sight of Ling regarding him with a peculiar
expression, in which hate, cunning, and satisfaction were curiously
mingled; and Frobisher could scarcely repress his anger as he realised
the meaning of that malignant glare. Not content with having attempted
to murder him by means of the knife during the night, the scoundrel was
now trying to put an end to him by means of poison; a powerful and very
painful poison, too, surmised Frobisher, if he might judge by the
burning, biting sensation that tingled on his throat, lips, and tongue.
It was not Frobisher's policy, however, to let Ling see that he was
suspected, otherwise the man might become desperate and adopt some still
more strenuous measure, which it might be difficult if not impossible to
frustrate. Therefore, forcing back the words of indignation and
accusation that leapt to his lips, and making a strong effort to command
his voice so that it might not quiver, he remarked quietly: "Hi, Ling!
This tea is very strong. You've forgotten to put in any sugar. I
suppose there is some, isn't there?"
Ling repressed a smile, dived under one of the cart hoods, and presently
reappeared with a few lumps of the required sweetening, which Frobisher
calmly dropped into his cup, stirring them round so as to dissolve them
completely. He then set the cup down beside him, as though to let the
liquid cool, and watched Ling keenly until that wily Oriental was
looking another way, when he quickly capsized the contents of the cup on
to the grass, where the liquid was immediately absorbed by the damp
earth.
When Ling returned for the cup Frobisher observed him closely, and could
not avoid noticing the expression of satisfaction which even the man's
usual impassivity failed to suppress completely. Frobisher was by this
time quite convinced that Ling was a traitor, either belonging to, or in
the pay of, the Government party; and he began to wonder whether, after
all, the man had spoken the truth when he had affirmed that Korean
troops were approaching to capture the caravan along the Yong-wol road.
Might not the very reverse be the fact, and the troops be hiding in
ambush along the very road that they were about to traverse? Frobisher
was almost inclined to take the risk of altering the course of the
caravan in order to regain the main road; but a few seconds'
consideration caused him to abandon that idea. There were no less than
four roads to Yong-wol, including the customary route, and the
Englishman had only selected the one they were on at the last moment
before starting--after the arrival of Ling from the ship, in fact; so
that, unless Ling had arranged to have messengers waiting for him
ashore, and had found means to communicate with them--which Frobisher
could scarcely believe possible--the route they were taking could hardly
have leaked out. He therefore made up his mind to stand by his original
plan; and, the men having finished their meal, he gave orders for the
caravan to proceed, himself leading the way and keeping a sharp look-out
for any sign of treachery on the part of the Korean.
It was but a short distance to the banks of the stream, previously
mentioned, which crossed the route of the caravan, but when they arrived
there a disagreeable surprise was in store for the leader. The heavy
rain of the previous night had swollen the river to such an extent that,
instead of a placid, shallow stream, little exceeding in size a mere
brook, it was now a roaring, foaming torrent, rising higher and higher
every minute; and there was no knowing how long it might be before the
water would subside to its normal level. Frobisher consequently
realised with dismay that he might be compelled to stay where he was for
several days, allowing the enemy ample time to arrive on the spot and
capture the caravan.
Evidently, he told himself, it would never do to be delayed by this
obstacle; but how was he to overcome it? that was the question.
"Ling," he demanded, "how long will it be before this water will go low
enough to allow us to cross?"
The Korean shrugged his shoulders. "Me no know, mastel," he said.
"Pelhaps by to-night; pelhaps not fol week. No can do nothing, can only
stop hele."
"Don't you believe that for a minute, my man," retorted Frobisher
tartly, for it annoyed him to observe the calm satisfaction with which
the Korean regarded the situation. "We've got to get across, do you
hear? And we are going to do it; so make up your mind to that. If I
have to drown every man of the caravan, and you too," he added, "I'm
going to manage it somehow, so you understand. And now that I've told
you this, tell me in return whether there is any other place beside this
where we can cross?"
"No, mastel," said Ling, "no othel place. This only place anywhele.
And no can closs hele, mastel can see fol himselluf."
"Well," said Frobisher determinedly, "if this is the only place, this is
where we cross. The river is rising very rapidly, and the longer we
delay the worse it will be; you see, therefore, that there's no time to
waste. I'm going to ride in to find how deep the water is, and, what's
more, my friend, you are coming with me." As he spoke, the young sailor
grasped the bridle of Ling's mule, dug his heels into his own animal's
sides, and together the Englishman and the now thoroughly frightened
Korean descended the steep bank and plunged into the river.
Not until he was actually in the water did Frobisher realise how deep
and how swift was the current; yet his horse seemed to betray no
uneasiness, and the river deepened only very slightly as they pushed
forward. He therefore grasped the Korean's bridle more firmly, took his
own bridle between his teeth, so as to have one hand free, drew his feet
out of the stirrups in order to get clear of the horse if the animal
were washed off its feet, and brought his open hand down with a
resounding smack upon the brute's hind-quarters.
With a snort, the beast plunged forward with a rush, the mule following
reluctantly after, with Ling clinging desperately to its neck.
Fortunately the water remained shallow, and the adventurous Englishman
was just congratulating himself on getting safely across without mishap
when there came a despairing shriek from Ling, the bridle was wrenched
from Frobisher's hand, and he wheeled in the saddle in the nick of time
to see Ling's mule lose its footing and sink back into the swirling
torrent, flinging the shrieking Korean off its back into the water. The
man immediately disappeared from view, all that was visible of him being
a hand and an arm, waving frantically to and fro and clutching
helplessly at the empty air. Evidently the mule had planted its foot in
a hole, stumbled, and been swept off the narrow ford into deep water;
and, unless something were done quickly, it looked as though Ling were
in danger of being drowned.
The Korean had twice attempted to take Frobisher's life, and it would
have been far more convenient and safer, as regarded himself, for the
leader of the expedition to have let the man drown; but that leader was
an Englishman, with all an Englishman's traditions behind him, and he
could not stand idly by and see a fellow creature perish, however
well-deserving of such a fate the man might be. So, without a moment's
hesitation, Frobisher dragged his horse's head round by main force, and
urged him, by voice, heel, and hand, off the causeway into the flood,
and headed downstream after Ling, who had by this time risen to the
surface and was yelling madly for mercy and help. But the sailor soon
perceived that if he pursued his present tactics the Korean would be
swept away and drowned before being overtaken; so, casting his eyes
keenly about him, Frobisher picked out a spot a little distance lower
down, where the banks appeared slightly less steep than elsewhere, and
urged his animal in that direction.