A GRIM SENTINEL.
Luchman looked off to where Wana Affghar was seated on his black
pony, intently watching proceedings, and circling his knife over his
head. As his two followers fell, he uttered a defiant shout.
It seemed as if the infuriated chieftain was about to charge upon the
fugitives with all his men; but, if he meant to do so, he changed his
mind.
Several of the Ghoojurs, however, fired their guns, and the bullets
were heard pattering among the leaves and flattening themselves
against the walls of the temple. None came near the defenders.
The missionary and his wife and daughter came forth just as the two
young men fired with such effect. Luchman, relieved of all immediate
danger, sauntered back through the archway with the same dignity that
he showed when leaving it. All congratulated him on his escape. He
in turn thanked Avery and Harkins for their timely shots that saved
him from an encounter in which, to say the least, the chances were
against him.
Avery and Harkins lost no time in reloading their weapons. Luchman
said they were safe from any molestation until nightfall; and, as the
young men were in need of rest, they passed back into the larger
apartment and lay down on the hard flinty floor. Marian and her
mother, though not in such need of repose, went into the smaller
room, leaving the missionary with Luchman. The two talked in low
tones for a long time, the missionary finally withdrawing, so that
the native at last was left alone.
Luchman did not need to be told, after what had taken place, that no
mercy would be shown to him and those under his care, and he did not
expect any attempt to resume the negotiations.
In the course of the afternoon he discovered that three of the
Ghoojurs were stealing along the depression in the plain. He
suspected their business, but offered no objection. When close to
where the stark bodies of their former companions lay, they sprang up
and rushed out to them. Luchman could have picked them off with the
rifles of his companions which had been left with him, but he had no
wish to do so, and he suffered them to bear off their ghastly burden
without hindrance from him.
The brigands appeared to grow weary of lolling in the sun, and
withdrew to the shade of some trees, where they disposed of
themselves in a more comfortable fashion. Possibly they hoped by
this withdrawal to tempt the Feringhees far enough from the temple to
give a chance for cutting them off, but Luchman had no thought of any
such venture.
Since no rain falls during the month of May in northern India, it may
be wondered what grounds Luchman could have for hope of the final
escape of his friends. The night was well lit up by the bright moon,
so that, except for the slight decrease in temperature, it was no
more favorable for flight than the day. But within the bronzed skull
of the Hindoo a busy brain was at work, and was sure to conjure up
some scheme, desperate though it might be.
When night began closing in, there was little change. The brigands
were still among the trees, but several came out and ventured closer
to the temple, though they took good care to keep beyond reach of the
two deadly rifles.
A slight noise caused Luchman to turn his head. Avery and Harkins
were at his elbow.
"Now, Luchman," said the latter, "we have had a good rest, and it is
your turn to go inside and get some sleep while you have the chance."
The native shook his head.
"I want no sleep, sahibs; I shall take none tonight."
"But you may have to keep awake for several weeks or months,"
persisted Harkins.
Luchman was as incapable as an American Indian of grasping a jest,
and he replied, in all seriousness:
"I will try to get sleep before waiting so long, sahib."
"I don't believe he needs any rest," said the surgeon; "I doubt
whether he will feel the least inconvenience if he has no food,
water, or sleep for a week to come. He is the most remarkable
specimen of what the human system can stand that I ever saw. Do as
you think best, Luchman, but Harkins and I have come out to relieve
you for a while; will you allow us to do it?"
"After a time, sahibs; when the night is fully come you may look out."
"What do you mean to do?"
"Wait, sahib, and you will see."
"I shouldn't be surprised if we did," laughed Harkins.
The moon was so bright that before any one suspected the short
twilight had merged into the night.
The gnarled trees at the entrance to the gateway threw their heavy
shadows across the ground in front, while the abundant vegetation
cast numerous patches of darkness around the picturesque ruins.
These standing in an open plain, with a large stream of water some
two hundred yards to the rear, the jungle being further from the
front, it will be seen that it was beyond the power of any one to
steal away from the temple without certain detection by the watchful
Ghoojurs.
Such being the situation, the fugitives might well despair of escape
without help from the outside, and such help was among the human
impossibilities.
Luchman noticed one fact: the Ghoojurs had received no
re-enforcements. This only proved that they did not wish any; they
were confident they had enough to do the work before them. Wana
Affghar must have convinced his men that they would soon have an
abundance of loot to divide.
Figures could be seen moving over the plain, and, as a matter of
course, the ruffians were guarding every point, despite which Luchman
declared that he intended to leave the temple and find out whether
there was any opening for an attempt to get away. His entrance into
the ruined building was so hurried that he had no time to acquaint
himself with the surroundings, and he thought the time had now come
to do so.
He feared there might be some rear entrance to the temple, by which
their foes would steal a march on them. The only way of satisfying
himself on this point was by an examination of the exterior.
"I am going, sahibs," he quietly remarked a few minutes later, "and
you will not forget to keep close watch while I am away."
They assured him that he need have no fears in that respect.
A minute later he had vanished.
This was comparatively an easy task, for, instead of venturing out
upon the moonlit plain, he clambered up the shaded archway, where he
could not be seen from the outside. His friends saw him make a leap
upward, catch hold of the stone above his head, his long legs beating
the air for a moment, and then he was gone.
"There are some things which cannot be done," remarked Harkins, "and
I have a fear that he means to try them. If he undertakes to get
down the stream or to the jungle or ventures away from the ruins at
all, he will lose his life. Wana Affghar would like nothing better
than to have him make such an attempt."
"He will take no advice from us, and perhaps it is as well that he
will not; but he is a shrewd fellow, and I have great faith in him."
"I wonder what scheme he has in his head."
"He has formed some plan, and he wants to see whether it will do to
try it."
The two began pacing back and forth through the arched passage,
alternating in such a way that one was always facing outward. This
was continued for a half hour, during which the stillness of the tomb
reigned about them. At the end of that time the sound of voices from
within showed that the ladies had come into the larger room, where
the missionary was talking to them.
"Now, see here, doctor," said the good hearted Harkins, "there is no
need of both of us staying here; I would rather station myself at the
open end of this passage where I can see and hear anything going on,
while you withdraw and spend an hour or two with your friends. Miss
Hildreth is dying to have the chance, which this flurry has prevented
her having until now. I had a chat with her some time ago, and found
her charming, but all the time I saw that she wanted you and not me."
"No such thing; she is delighted with you, and sounded your praises
so extravagantly that I am becoming jealous."
"No need of that! Besides, my dear boy, I have a blue eyed lassie in
far away England who has pre-empted all the heart and affections of
the undersigned. Darling Jennie," murmured the big, handsome fellow,
with just the slightest tremor in his voice; "I wonder whether you
will ever see your good for nothing George again. He is not of much
account, but all the same, if the ship never brings him back to you,
there will be another breaking heart in Albion."
Both were silent for a few seconds, these being the first sentimental
words that Harkins had uttered in the presence of his companion, who
was drawn closer by those sweet musings which only added fuller glory
to his manhood.
Rousing up, Harkins took hold of Avery's arms and faced him toward
the interior.
"Off with you, and stay till I call you. I will keep faithful ward
and watch, even though my fancies wander thousands of miles away to a
certain vine clad cottage in old England."
And the fellow, happy even in his sadness, looked out upon the
moonlit plain and hummed "Annie Laurie," as Dr. Avery, full of love
for his splendid friend, sauntered back to that other dearer one,
who, as Harkins said, looked so longingly for his coming.
Within the larger room it was quite dark. The overturned idol
afforded a bench upon which Mr. Hildreth, his wife and daughter were
seated. There was room for the doctor, who, guided by the voices,
placed himself near Marian and imprisoned her hand, while the low
murmured conversation went on.
Avery related what had taken place at the entrance to the temple.
Luchman had stolen out on an expedition of his own, while Harkins was
acting the part of sentinel.
"I think the same as Harkins," said the missionary, "that Luchman is
trying to do that which cannot be done. Not even a mouse could get
out of here without being seen by the Ghoojurs."
"I hardly think he expects to leave, but to gain a better knowledge
of our surroundings."
"Were only himself concerned he would have little trouble in
hoodwinking the ruffians; but he cannot do so to the extent of
delivering us."
"If we fail to get away to-night, what hope is there for us?"
The question was asked by Marian, and her betrothed pressed her hand
as he made answer:
"That might have been asked a dozen times within the past few days,
and the reply would have been the same as now."
"Avery speaks the truth," said the missionary impressively;
"everything looks dark, but Heaven's mercy cannot be gauged by us; we
can only trust the Hand that has sustained us so long."
"God's mercies shall endure forever," added the wife, in a voice
which fell like a benison upon the hearers.
Unto all there seemed to come a sweet assurance that the wrath of the
heathen should be turned to naught, broken suddenly by a slight noise
from the entrance to the temple.
Slight as it was, all heard it, though no one could tell its nature.
They listened, but it was not repeated and the stillness continued.
"I will find out what it means," said Avery, rising from his seat on
the idol and moving out toward the moonlit passage way.
The first object on which his eye rested was the figure of Harkins
seated on the ground well out toward the opening. He appeared to be
leaning against the side wall and looking off where the Ghoojurs had
been seen during the day.
"Helloa, Harkins," called the surgeon in a guarded voice, "what was
the meaning of that noise a few minutes ago? Anything up?"
The man made no reply, nor did he move.
"I say, old fellow," added Avery, stepping still closer and speaking
in a louder voice, "what's going on?"
Still the sentinel was motionless and silent.
Dr. Avery laughed softly to himself.
"Asleep, as sure as I live! That's the best joke on Harkins; how we
shall all laugh at him! You're a fine sentinel, ain't you?"
Grasping his shoulder he shook him vigorously.
"Wake up, old boy! Arouse, the house is on fire! Don't you hear me,
Harkins--my God!"
George Harkins was stone dead. It was Death that was acting the role
of sentinel.