AN INCIDENT BY THE WAY.
Before venturing upon the streets, the fugitives, as they may now be
called, had recourse to such disguises as were at their command. It
so happened that at that time, the only servant with the family of
the missionary was Luchman. A second servant, Ali Khan, had been
called away two days before by the illness of his wife, and a third
was absent for the evening. Living in a distant part of the city,
the second had been given permission to remain away until ready to
return, and he had not yet shown up. Since he was a Mohammedan, who,
while impressed by the teachings of Christianity, had not yet made
profession of the new faith, the family were rather relieved by his
absence. Indeed they were not without strong doubts of his loyalty,
and they would not have been surprised had he appeared among the
fanatics that were certain to make a move before long against the
missionary and his family.
The first preparation of the ladies consisted in an adoption of
chuddars, or white shawls of muslin, which are common among the
native women. These are worn over the head and drawn around the face
so that only the eyes are visible when the wearer appears on the
street. Enveloped by these cool coverings, there was good reason to
hope that they could pass along the roads without attracting notice.
Luchman arranged turbans about the heads of Mr. Hildreth and Dr.
Avery, tied with a skill peculiar to himself. The servants' quarters
are never without several clean white muslin coats in order that the
menials may make a seemly appearance at all times. The gentlemen
each donned one of these, and thus the party at night were quite sure
to pass muster, unless suspicion should lead to a close scrutiny as
they sought to make their way toward the Cashmere Gate.
Luchman announced the painful necessity that the friends must
separate, in order to draw less attention. No woman ever appears
alone at night in any of the bazars, unless directly behind her
husband. It was arranged, therefore, that Marian should walk behind
Luchman, and Mrs. Hildreth immediately behind the missionary. They
would part company as soon as the street was reached, and since all,
with one exception, were familiar with the city, they were hopeful of
reaching the Cashmere Gate without molestation.
Dr. Avery, being but slightly acquainted with the capital, was given
the most direct route, which was explained with so much clearness to
him, that he was as hopeful as the others. Indeed, with the spirits
that were natural to him, he offered to wager Marian and Luchman that
he would reach the rendezvous ahead of all.
The streets were unlighted by lamps, the paunchyats or groups of
natives being gathered around the small fires kindled in many places
on the ground. It was believed that these could be avoided without
difficulty, though the bright moon in the unclouded sky required
great caution in the movements of the fugitives.
Everything being ready, they stole out upon the nearest street as
silently as so many shadows. Dr. Avery pressed the hand of Marian as
he whispered a farewell, and begged her to maintain a brave heart,
and to keep close behind her protector, Luchman. The brave girl
uttered some reply which her lover did not catch, and, almost before
he suspected it, he was threading his way alone through the narrow
streets.
He was amazed by the throngs of people whom he met at every turn. It
was yet early in the evening, and they seemed to be everywhere.
Everybody was talking, and the chatter of tongues was like Babel
itself. Now and then he heard an English word, or was able to catch
the meaning of some expression in Hindustani. He was sure that every
one related to the momentous subject of the mutiny.
All at once a greater uproar than usual broke out directly in front,
and the swarm surged in that direction, led by the same headlong
curiosity which controls a mob in a civilized city.
Avery pushed along with the others, and soon found that the cause of
the tumult was a brawl among several men. Feeling no interest in
such an affray, he was about to pass on, when one of the combatants
leaped into the middle of the street, closely pressed by the others.
It was then that the bright moonlight showed that the individual who
was striving to disentangle himself was an Englishman, who was hard
pressed by fully a dozen natives.
He was bareheaded, tall, muscular, and of great strength and
activity. Had anything like fair play been shown, he would have
vanquished the whole party, but it was clear he had been assailed by
the mob, who were determined he should die.
Dr. Avery's bosom heaved with indignation, and it was hard to
restrain the impulse to drive his way through the throng to the help
of his imperiled countryman, but to do so would have been certain
death. Unable to turn his back on the man that was making such a
gallant fight for his life, he forced his hand into his pocket and
grasped his revolver, in the hope that in the excitement he might
fire several shots for his friend, without diverting the furious
assault to himself.
So far as could be seen, the Englishman was acting on the defensive.
He had no weapons in his hand, but he struck out, dodged and parried
with a skill that showed him to be a master of the art of self
defense. He would have knocked his assailants over and over but for
the obstruction of the crowd behind them. But his blows were
terrific, and beyond a doubt he cracked almost every skull against
which he drove his fists with such tremendous force and
lightning-like rapidity.
All the time the pale faced athlete was retreating or rather trying
to retreat, and could he have shaken himself clear of the swarm but
for a second, he would have gotten safely away, but he was so hemmed
in by his assailants that escape was out of the question.
"God help you!" suddenly exclaimed Dr. Avery, unable to stand idle
any longer, "I can't see you murdered like a dog! Out of my path,
you infernal devils!"
It is hardly possible that this command, shouted in his own language,
was heard by the wretches, most of whom were screeching and shouting
themselves, but there were several close at hand who recognized the
tongue and saw that another victim had run into their net. These
natives, generally so afraid of foreigners, had become impudent and
aggressive under the belief that all the infidel Christians were to
be exterminated, root and branch, by the sepoys.
Dr. Avery cared nothing now about hiding his identity. He was
struggling furiously and fighting his way to the side of his
countryman. He was almost, if not quite, his equal in strength and
activity, and the two would have made a brave battle with their backs
against each other and their arms going like the piston rods of an
engine.
The surgeon was forging ahead like a ship struggling in the trough of
a sea, when a rasping howl from a score of throats told that he was
identified, and the wretches made for him.
At this juncture, the stranger further out in the street did
something which he ought to Have done before, though the act was as
effective at one time as at another. Finding it impossible to
extricate himself from the throng that pressed him so hard, he
whipped out his revolver and fired five shots in rapid succession,
wheeling quickly on his heel as he did so, by which maneuver he sent
the bullets toward as many different points of the compass.
The natives were so plentiful that it was impossible to miss, and
they went down like tenpins. The flashing of the weapon in their
faces caused a panic for the moment. There was a wild scramble to
get away from the desperate man, who had doubtless fired for the very
purpose of creating this diversion.
It was the supreme moment for the Englishman, who bounded forward as
if shot from a catapult, striking fiercely at every one within reach
and clearing a path through which he dashed down the street like a
frightened deer, his yellow hair streaming in the wind.
The sight of the fugitive running for life brought back the senses of
the mob, and they swarmed after him. Dr. Avery was quick to see that
this diversion gave him a chance to save himself during the moments
that the attention of the heathen was drawn toward the flying
fugitive.
Stepping quickly back into the shadow, he walked deliberately away
without attracting notice.
"I would like to know whether they caught him," he muttered, full of
solicitude for the stranger. "He knew what to do, and he got along a
good deal better than he would had I reached his side. For that
matter, it was mighty lucky for me that I failed. He can outrun all
of those yawping devils, and, if he doesn't get tangled up in the
streets, he has a good chance of giving them the slip--helloa! what's
up now?"