RAHMAT-ULLAH.
Lady Haigh sat up, and listened attentively. “It may be only the
sentries moving about,” she whispered at last.
“No, there are none. I peeped out to see. They are sleeping all round
the tent, so that we could not pass, but they have no one on the
watch. There it is again! Listen!”
But this time there was no difficulty in distinguishing the sounds,
for a tremendous voice, so close at hand that Lady Haigh stopped her
ears involuntarily, shouted, “At them, boys! Cold steel! Don’t let one
of them escape!” and immediately the wildest tumult arose outside the
tent. It aroused even Hafiza, who sat up and with great presence of
mind opened her mouth to scream, but was forestalled by Lady Haigh,
who flew at her like a wild cat, and gagged her with a corner of the
_resai_.
“Do you want us all to be killed?” she demanded fiercely. “Our only
chance is that they may not remember us.”
“Elma, are you there?” said a voice outside the tent at the back, and
Lady Haigh released Hafiza and turned in the direction of the sound.
“Is it you, Dugald?” she cried joyfully, trying to tear up the edge of
the tent-cloth from the ground, but it was well pegged down.
“Stand aside!” said the voice, and there was a rending sound as a
sword cut a long slit in the cloth, revealing Sir Dugald dimly against
the starry sky. “Out with you!” he said, “and stoop till I tell you to
stand up.”
Determined to obey to the very letter, Lady Haigh and Penelope crawled
out through the slit on their hands and knees, followed by Hafiza, who
was so anxious not to be left behind that she kept a firm hold on
Penelope’s riding-habit. Sir Dugald led the way through the brushwood,
away from the clash of swords and the wild confusion of shouts and
yells in front of the tent, and when they had passed the brow of the
hill, he gave them leave to stand up.
“We are to make for the horses,” he said. “I only hope they won’t have
run away, or we shall find ourselves in a hole. But Miani has the
sense of a dozen, and wouldn’t go without his master.”
They ran and stumbled down the hill, Sir Dugald assisting any one of
the three who happened to be nearest, and a little way back on the
road they had come, found Miani and four other horses waiting in a
hollow, secured to a lance driven into the ground.
“But where are the rest?” cried Lady Haigh. “The men can’t have walked
from Alibad here.”
“There’s a horse for each man,” was the grim reply. “Keeling and I,
his two orderlies, and Murtiza Khan--there’s our rescue party.”
“It’s perfect madness!” she cried piteously, collapsing on a heap of
stones. “There was no need to risk your lives in this way.”
“All that could be spared. This is a little jaunt undertaken when we
are supposed to be asleep. No one knows about it.”
“It’s just the sort of mad thing Major Keeling would do, but you--oh,
Dugald! if anything happens to you I shall never forgive myself,” and
Lady Haigh sat on her stone-heap and wept ignominiously.
“Good heavens, Elma! you’ll call together all the enemies in the
neighbourhood if you make that noise. I’m all right at present. Why
don’t you weep over the Chief? He’s in danger, if you like.”
“Yes, and why aren’t you with him?” she demanded, with what might have
appeared a certain measure of inconsistency.
“Orders,” he replied tersely. “I have to see you home. Hope we shall
be able to collar your ponies. Where did you manage to pick up an
ayah? Not one of your captors’ people, is she?”
“No, she must go back with us. She belongs to Sheikhgarh. Oh,
Dugald----”
“Hush! I believe I hear the Chief coming. Here, Major! we’ve got them
all right.”
“Good!” returned Major Keeling, hurling himself into the group after a
run down the hillside. “How are you, Lady Haigh? Pretty fit, Miss
Ross? Got a good ride before us still. We must have an outpost here
some day--splendid place for stopping the smuggling of arms into
Ethiopia.”
“And call it after you,” suggested Lady Haigh, now quite herself
again. “What shall we say--Kīlinabad? or Kīlingarh? or Kīlinkôt?”
“Has this hill any name, Kasim?” asked Major Keeling, turning abruptly
to one of the orderlies who had come up.
“It is called Rahmat-Ullah, sahib, from one who was saved from death
by a pool of water that he found here.”
“Then there is its name still. Rahmat-Ullah, the Compassion of
God--what could be more appropriate? But now to think of present
needs. Surviving enemy has escaped with the horses, unfortunately. We
didn’t venture to fire after him for fear of rousing the
neighbourhood, so we must ride double.” As he spoke, he was
unstrapping and rearranging the greatcoat which was rolled in front of
Miani’s saddle. “Haigh, take your wife.” He unfastened the black’s
bridle from the lance, and was in the saddle in a moment. “Miss Ross,
give me your hands. Put your foot on mine. Now, jump!” and as Penelope
obeyed, she found herself seated before him on the horse, the
greatcoat serving as a cushion. “Don’t be afraid of falling. I shall
hold you,” he said. “Besides, Miani is too much of a gentleman to try
any tricks with a lady on his back. You all right, Lady Haigh? Ismail
Bakhsh, you are the lightest weight; pick up the old woman, and fall
in behind. Murtiza Khan may lead; he has deserved well for this three
days’ work. Kasim-ud-Daulat, bring up the rear, and keep your ears
open for any sounds of pursuit. Now, forward!”
They were in motion at once, Miani making no objection to his double
burden. Penelope smiled to herself, realising the strangeness of her
position, and also Major Keeling’s anxiety that she should not realise
it. His left arm was round her, the sword which must have dripped with
blood only a few minutes ago hung almost within reach of her hand; but
he was careful not to say a word that could make her feel that there
was anything odd in the situation.
“He is determined to behave as if he was a stranger,” she said to
herself. “No, not quite. A stranger would have asked me if I was quite
comfortable before starting. But why doesn’t he let me ride behind
him, so as to leave his arms free? I know! it is from behind that he
expects to be attacked. Oh, I hope, I hope, if there is an attack, it
will be in front. Then the bullets must reach me first, and he might
escape.”
As if in answer to her thought, Major Keeling’s deep voice remarked
casually at this moment, “If we are attacked in front, Miss Ross, I
shall drop you on the ground. It sounds rude, but you will be safer
there than in the way of bullets. Keep out of the way of the horses as
best you can, and we will pick you up again when we have driven the
rascals off.”
“Ye-es,” said Penelope faintly, with the feeling very strong upon her
that there were some seasons at which women had no business to exist.
Again, as if to comfort her, Major Keeling laughed happily.
“Never felt so jolly in my life!” he cried. “This is the sort of
adventure that’s worth five years of office and drill.”
The assurance was so cheering, though entirely impersonal, that
Penelope accepted the comfort perforce. They rode on steadily, and the
regular beat of the horses’ hoofs was pleasant in its monotony. A
continuous low murmur from Lady Haigh, punctuated by an occasional
word or two from Sir Dugald, showed that she, at any rate, had no
doubt of her right to exist and to demand a welcome. Penelope’s
thoughts became somewhat confused. Scenes and images from the exciting
panorama of the last three days danced before her eyes. She knew that
they were unreal, but could not remember where she actually was.
Suddenly they ceased, and she knew nothing more until a deep voice
broke upon her slumbers--
“You would make a good cavalryman, Miss Ross. You can sleep in the
saddle!”
Bewildered, she gazed round her. The silvery light of the false dawn
was spreading itself over the sky, and the familiar front of the
Haighs’ house at Alibad looked weird and cold. They were actually
inside the compound, riding up to the door, and startled servants were
running out from their quarters to receive them. Lady Haigh dismounted
with much agility, and came running to assist Penelope, who was still
too much confused to allow herself to drop to the ground, but Major
Keeling and Sir Dugald both remained in the saddle.
“Don’t expect me till you see me,” said Sir Dugald to his wife. “I’ll
send you a message when I can.”
“And he shall have an hour’s leave when it can be managed,” said Major
Keeling, turning his horse’s head. Then he looked back at the two
ladies standing forlorn on the steps. “Now my advice to you is, go to
bed and get a thorough rest. You needn’t be afraid. Tarleton and the
Fencibles have the town in charge, though we are out on the plains.”
“Oh, Elma, and we never thanked them!” cried Penelope, horror-struck,
as the two officers and their escort disappeared.
“_Thanked_ them! My dear Penelope, what good would thanks be? If we
thanked those two men on our bended knees for ever, it wouldn’t come
anywhere near proper gratitude for what they have done for us
to-night. But come indoors, and let us hunt up some bedding. It’s all
very well to advise us to go to bed; but every single thing we took
into camp is burnt, so we must do the best we can.”
“But the servants?” cried Penelope.
“Oh, they stood in the water and escaped, and made the best of their
way back to Alibad when the fire was over, but they didn’t save
anything. Now I must give Hafiza into the charge of the _malli’s_
wife, and then we will go indoors.”
The gardener’s wife was a Nalapuri woman, and quite willing to give
shelter to her compatriot, who had been eyeing the European house with
much disfavour; and Lady Haigh called up the two ayahs, and set them
to work at making up some sort of beds, while she and Penelope had
some tea. The moment they were alone she turned to Penelope and said,
“Well?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” said Penelope.
“Oh, nonsense! Did he say anything?”
“He said he should drop me on the sand if we were attacked in front.”
“Of course, Dugald said that to me. But what else?”
“Nothing, really. I--I went to sleep, Elma.”
“Penelope, you are perfectly hopeless! I should dearly like to beat
you. You haven’t one scrap of romance in your whole composition. You
went to sleep!”
“I was so dreadfully tired--and I felt so safe, so wonderfully safe.”
“I suppose you expect him to take that as a compliment. But I am
disgusted. Oh, Pen, I didn’t think it of you!”
“I couldn’t help it,” pleaded Penelope, “and he didn’t mean to say
anything then, I’m sure.” But Lady Haigh refused to be mollified.
“You gave him no chance. And, as you say, you never even thanked him.
My dear, it was touch and go, as Dugald says. By the greatest mercy,
one of the Sheikh-ul-Jabal’s men caught sight of our party just before
the guards made us hide behind that sandhill. They thought it was an
ambush, and were all prepared, so that it was rather a surprise when
they were allowed to pass. When they were crossing the plain towards
Sheikhgarh, they were met by a patrol which Major Keeling had sent out
to try and intercept the Sheikh as soon as ever he had heard Murtiza
Khan’s news----”
“But that must have been in broad daylight.”
“So it was. The Sheikh’s vow expired, it seems, as soon as his nephew
Ashraf Ali was fourteen. He couldn’t afford to be handicapped when it
was a question of putting the boy on the throne, you see. Well, Major
Keeling had guessed that the enemy would probably send us away
somewhere, lest Sheikhgarh should be retaken; but the only thing he
could do when he heard what the Sheikh had seen was to send out the
_shikari_ Baha-ud-Din, who most happily went back to Alibad with
Dugald, you know, to examine the trail, and he found the marks of our
ponies’ shoes, quite distinct among the native ones. And as soon as it
was dark, he and Dugald and the orderlies started after us. But it was
a near thing.”
“Very,” agreed Penelope, with a shudder. “If they had taken us just
that one hour’s journey farther, Elma--into Ethiopia!”
“Well, if you ask me, I am not sure that it would have made very much
difference. A frontier has no peculiar sacredness for Major Keeling,
unless it’s his own. But of course there might have been an Ethiopian
fort, and five men could scarcely have attacked that. Yes, Pen, we
ought to be very thankful. And now here is Dulya to say that our rooms
are ready. I needn’t tell you to sleep well. You seem to have quite a
talent for it!”
After behaving with sufficient heroism during their three days’ trial,
Lady Haigh and Penelope collapsed most unheroically after it. Two
whole days in bed was the smallest allowance they could accept, and
they slept away, peacefully enough, hours in which the fate of the
province might have been hanging in jeopardy, with a culpable
indifference to the interests of civilisation and their race. The
military situation was curious enough, and to the eyes of any one not
trained in the topsy-turvy school of the Khemistan frontier, eminently
disquieting. Gobind Chand’s army still remained in occupation of the
whole hill-district on the west, a potential menace, if not an active
one. The Sheikh-ul-Jabal and his troop of horsemen had left Alibad by
night, intending to make an attempt to regain possession of Sheikhgarh
by means of the secret door to which Wazira Begum had alluded; but as
this necessitated a very wide flanking movement, in order to approach
the place from behind, it was not surprising that nothing had been
heard as yet as to their success. Just across the frontier was Wilayat
Ali’s army, which had let slip its opportunity of combining with
Gobind Chand by attacking Alibad from the desert while he moved out
from the mountains, but still remained willing to wound, if afraid to
strike. Between the two was Major Keeling, with the whole of his small
force mobilised, so to speak, and holding the positions he had devised
to cover the town, while the town itself was inadequately garrisoned
by Dr Tarleton and his volunteers. The dangers of the position were
perceptible to the least skilled eye. In the possession of artillery
alone lay Major Keeling’s advantage; for the fact that the rest of his
force consisted wholly of cavalry, though advantageous in ordinary
cases of frontier warfare, was a drawback when the operations were of
necessity altogether defensive. It was not until four days after their
return to Alibad that the ladies obtained a coherent idea of Major
Keeling’s plan of action, and this was due to a visit from Sir Dugald,
who had come in with orders for Dr Tarleton.
“I suppose you’re able to take an intelligent interest in all that
goes on, with the help of that telescope of yours?” he asked lazily,
while Lady Haigh and Penelope plied him assiduously with tea and cake
in the few minutes he had to spare.
“Oh, we see the guns plodding about from place to place, and firing
one or two shots and then stopping, but we can’t make out what you are
doing,” said his wife.
“We are shepherding Gobind Chand’s men back into the hills whenever
they try to break out. In a day or two more we ought to have them
fairly cornered, unless some utterly unexpected gleam of common-sense
on Wilayat Ali’s part throws us out; but just at present we can do
nothing but ‘wait for something to turn up.’”
“But how will things be better in a day or two?” asked Penelope.
“Because the enemy’s supplies must be exhausted by then. These border
armies never carry much food with them, expecting to live on the
country. We are preventing that. There is no food to be got in the
hills, and when they burned the forest they destroyed any chances in
that direction. We have sent Harris with one of the guns to make a
flank march to the south and take up a strong position with Vidal and
his police across the road by which the enemy came, and the Sheikh
will take good care that no stragglers get past him. So far as we can
see, they must either fight or surrender.”
“But isn’t it rather cruel--starving them out in this way?”
“Cruel! If you talk of cruelty, wasn’t it cruel of them to fire the
best _shikargah_ in Khemistan? Isn’t it cruel of them now to be
keeping us grilling out on the plains, without time even for a change
of clothes? Why, until I managed to get a bath just now, I hadn’t
taken off my things since the night we rode out to find you!”
“You looked it, when you rode in two hours ago,” said Lady Haigh, with
such fervent sympathy that her husband requested her indignantly not
to be personal.
“And if we’re not to starve them out, what are we to do?” he demanded,
still smarting under the accusation of cruelty. “Of course, when an
enemy takes up his quarters in broken country inside your borders, any
fool will tell you you ought to clear him out; but what are you to do
with one weak regiment against an army? Perhaps they will let the
Chief raise another regiment after this--if we come through it--and
give him the two more European officers he’s been asking for so long.
Wilayat Ali might have swept us from the face of the earth if he had a
grain of generalship about him, and Gobind Chand’s army might have
rushed the guns a dozen times over if he could have got them to stand
fire.”
“But what is it that paralyses them?” asked Lady Haigh.
“Mutual antipathy, so far as we can make out. It seems that Wilayat
Ali carefully picked out the most disloyal Sardars to serve under
Gobind Chand, evidently in the hope that either we or they would
remove him from his path, and that the Sardars would also get their
ranks thinned. He hasn’t forgotten Gobind Chand’s attempt to get the
Chief’s help in deposing him, after all. But Gobind Chand is not eager
to take the chances of war, and the Sardars don’t quite see hurling
themselves against our guns that Wilayat Ali may have a walk-over;
and, moreover, they see through his scheme now. It’s really as good as
a play, the way the two chief villains are trying to betray one
another to us.”
“But have they actually tried to open negotiations?”
“Not formally, of course; but venerable Mullahs and frowsy _fakirs_
toddle casually into our lines, or try to, and unfold their respective
employers’ latest ideas. Wilayat Ali offers us the contents of his
treasury if we will allow him to join us and help to wipe out Gobind
Chand and the disaffected Sardars. Gobind Chand is rather more
liberal, and offers us the help of his army to annihilate Wilayat Ali
and his supporters, after which he will take the contents of the
treasury and retire into private life, and we may keep Nalapur. No
doubt he wishes us joy of it.”
“But surely they can’t have started the war with these schemes in
their minds?”
“Wilayat Ali did, I think; but Gobind Chand seems to have been
overreached for once. His eyes must have been opened when Wilayat Ali
failed to support him in his attack on the town; and he didn’t need a
second warning. The assiduity with which the two villains are playing
Codlin and Short for our benefit is really funny, but I rather think
there’s a surprise in store for each of them.”
“Something that will punish them both? Oh, do tell us!”
“Well, there seems some indication that the Sardars are as tired of
one as the other, and will shunt Gobind Chand of their own accord; and
if the Sheikh-ul-Jabal’s tales are true, he has worked up a strong
party among Wilayat Ali’s supporters in favour of his nephew Ashraf.
If so, we may expect some startling developments. The pity is, we
can’t force them on, only sit and wait for them to happen.”