OVER THE PASS
Gratitude had longer to wait than even Foster-father, who always took a
gloomy view of things, had thought for, since the next morning found the
shed almost hidden beneath a snowdrift. Still, as Old Faithful remarked,
it was not altogether to be regretted since the covering kept out the
cold and allowed them to save their small store of firewood for cooking.
The lack of light was, however, terrible until Old Faithful, whose
experience with Babar the brave made him full of expedients, hit on the
plan of setting Tumbu to work to dig out a hole through the drift, for
they had nothing with them to use as a spade. What he did was to set the
door wide, cut a narrow tunnel with his sword as far as he could reach
in the banked-up snow, and thrust a bit of food in its farther end. Then
Roy brought Tumbu and said:
"Fetch it out, good dog! fetch it out!" while Mirak and Bija looked on
delightedly, calling, "Good dog! Dig it out! dig it out!" Tumbu, the
most playful of animals, soon entered into the fun, and set to work
shovelling out the snow till he found the food. Then another bit was
thrust in, always in an upward direction.
"'Tis slow," said Old Faithful, "but not so slow as trampling down a
road!"
Not half so slow, for after a time Tumbu seemed to understand what they
would be at, and needed no more bits of food to make him dig, but went
on solidly, every now and again giving a yap just to make himself
believe he really _was_ digging something out. In fact, he got on so
fast that Roy, who, as the slimmest of the party, had to keep the tunnel
clear of the dug-out snow, had almost more to do than he could manage.
It was frightfully exciting, and Mirak and Bija were dancing about,
unable to keep still, when a sudden shaft of light that burst into the
dark shed, and a furiously joyful barking that came down the funnel as
if it had been a speaking trumpet, announced Tumbu's arrival in free
air.
"Now, we shall do," said Old Faithful with much importance. "Lo! how one
clever idea begets another. But for Firdoos Gita Makâni trampling a road
I should never have thought of a tunnel!"
Roy, however, was already hard at work improving on the idea by widening
the way with Old Faithful's sword, being only let from doing more by
Head-nurse's exclamation that the melting snow would flood the shed.
"Let be, boy!" said Foster-father; "the hot air from within, rising
through the tunnel, will melt the sides by degrees. To-morrow will see
it large enough for you, at any rate, to pass through."
And so it proved. Not next day, but the day after, not only Roy, but
Mirak and Bija, had managed to climb up to the outer world by the
notches which Roy cut in the snow walls.
It was a strange, chill world which they saw. Far as the eye could
reach, nothing but snow, the air frosty and sharp, though the sun was
shining once more. Mirak was keen to snowball, but Roy would not hear of
it; the snow was melting with the faint heat of the mid-day sun, he
said, and a step might make the frost film break, and down into the
powdery drift they might go, never to come up again. So they only stood
looking about them for a few minutes and then prepared to go back.
"Take care, my lord, take care!" cried Roy, as Mirak, who was preparing
to descend legs foremost, as he had been told to do, suddenly looked up
with a face full of mischief, let go with his hands, and pouf!
disappeared down the slippery tunnel like a pea in a pea-shooter. A
burst of laughter from below told them he had arrived safely, and
nothing would suit Bija but to do likewise, Roy being still too tight a
fit to slide quickly. In fact, the children were eager to climb up once
more and do it again, but Head-nurse said she could not hear of it;
their clothes were wet enough as it was; besides, it was most
unlady-like for a real Princess!
The days, therefore, did not pass so uncomfortably, though pressing
anxiety sat on Foster-father's honest face, and every time Roy returned
from a climb up to outer air he would ask him if he had seen anything.
"Nothing," Roy would reply, "and the snow wastes but little, we are so
high up."
At last one night, after the children were asleep, Foster-father
summoned a council of war. It would not be wise, he said, to remain
where they were, without making any effort at escape, until their
provisions were exhausted. Then they would be helpless. Now they still
had enough for two or three days, and it behooved them to make a
push--but whither?
"Not back on our steps," advised Old Faithful. "Firdoos Gita Makâni
always said: 'No retreat till there is no advance.' Besides, see you, if
we go down, the snow will be melting and give us no foothold. But at
night the frost will hold on the pass. And it is but little farther to
the next shelter; for, see you, I have come twice this way from
Kandahâr; but never the other way back. So my memory of land-marks--if
there be any--would be nothing on the downward journey. But upward it
might come to life. Again, upward there is less chance of missing the
way, as all the valleys converge to the Pass, whereas downward they
spread out in different directions."
In fact, there were so many points in favour of advance that the
decision was made for it, and the next night settled on for the start.
There were not many preparations to make except for the women, who had
to bake what flour they had into hearth cakes. They had a little wheat
and pulse, too, and this they roasted and tied up in the corners of
their veils. Everything that was heavy had to be left behind, for they
knew that even unburdened they might have difficulty in getting the
frost film on the snow to bear their weight. It was a bright, starlight
night when, the snow tunnel having been enlarged by Roy, regardless of
flooding the shed, the whole party crept out and stood on the wide,
snowy expanse. Tumbu was first, and with joyful yaps began to career
about in circles curved like a comma, biting and snapping at the snow.
Down came last, and _meaowed_ piteously, lifting up first one cold foot,
then another, and shaking it in disgust. Finally an idea seemed to come
into her head; she made a bound toward Tumbu, and the next moment was on
his back, clawing onto his fluffy black fur; whereat everybody laughed.
So, with many a prayer for guidance, the little party set off, Old
Faithful leading the way. At first they managed pretty well, though the
men and women, being heavy, sank over the ankles at each step. But both
Bija and Mirak, and even Roy, being light, found the surface hard enough
to bear them; so they ran on ahead and chattered and laughed, the whole
business being to them a huge joke. Thus an hour passed cheerfully
enough; then Bija began to get tired, and Foster-father took her in his
arms. The result sent his heart into his mouth with sudden fear, sudden
certainty that no help could come that way. Even her slight additional
weight sent him almost waist deep into the snow. He could scarcely move!
And ere long the Heir-to-Empire would doubtless weary also; then what
was to be done? For every hour after midnight would bring the thawing
sun nearer and nearer; they might have to remain on the Pass till night
brought frost again, and in that case what would become of the children?
Then suddenly his eye caught Tumbu, who was marching along sullenly,
Down nestling, fast clawed in his broad, furry back. Could the dog carry
a child? A creature with four feet had greater purchase of foothold than
one with two.
"Roy," he said, "turn the cat off and put the Heir-to-Empire on the
dog's back; he must be tired also."
Mirak, nothing loath, climbed quickly to his mount; but ere he had
settled himself on its back Tumbu had begun to sink slowly. The little
lad's weight was too much for even four feet; there was a struggle, over
went the little Prince, and both he and Tumbu had to be picked up and
set on their legs again on a fresh, unbroken place.
Foster-father looked in despair at Old Faithful, and for a minute no
one said anything. Then the old man's face lit up. "Lo! I had forgotten
it utterly, but the time and place bring memory back. Firdoos Gita
Makâni--who knew all things under the sun--had a favourite horse, that
strained itself falling into a drift. They were for leaving it to die,
but that did not suit Firdoos Gita Makâni, who was kind to all God's
creatures. So, having read of the like somewhere, he set us to make a
sort of platform with our lances and blankets underneath the poor brute,
and so we dragged him over the snow, until we reached a place where
there was water and grass."
"We have no lances," said Foster-father, "and there is no wood." He
looked around helplessly.
"My lord has a sword," put in Roy eagerly, "and so has Faithful. If he
were to tie them crossways to the scabbards--" He had already thrown off
his skin coat and was unwinding his long muslin waistband to tear it
into strips to use as a cord.
"It is worth the trying, friend Foster-father," said Old Faithful,
unbuckling his sword.
"Aye!" continued Roy, elated with the idea, "and Tumbu can drag it. He
makes no mark on the snow, so it will be smooth and slippy--and the
curved scabbards will be like runners."
His dexterous fingers were hard at work binding the long sword blades to
place. Then a strip of woollen shawl was fastened to them as a seat,
Meroo's turban served as harness, and in less time than could have been
imagined the quaint sledge was ready for trial.
Mirak sat on it first. "Now then, Tumbu! Good dog!" said Roy in a
flutter for fear of failure. Tumbu turned round, looked at his little
master with a broad grin of red tongue and white teeth, gave a little
grunt, and started.
The sledge slid on over the frozen snow quite easily!
"Now praise be to God!" cried Foster-father, overjoyed.
"And Grand-dad!" said the little Prince, who always listened to
everything; "but I knew he would help us, didn't you, Bija?"
"But I want to go on the thing, too," she whimpered.
"Mayhap it might support them both," put in Head-nurse; "she is but a
featherweight, and there is plenty of room."
Ere five minutes were over the little party, greatly heartened up by
finding this unexpected way out of their difficulties, started once
more, Roy encouraging Tumbu, who, in truth, seemed to feel his task
quite a light one, while Foster-father, in his relief and gratitude,
allowed Down, the cat, to creep once more inside his fur coat. Her
weight made him sink a little farther into the snow, but he was strong,
and felt he could have done more for the sake of the children's safety.
On and on they went, the frost film giving firmer foothold on the
top of the pass, while the chill which always precedes dawn took away
still more from the difficulty of Tumbu's task. In fact, the curved
scabbards slipped over the hard snow as if it had been ice.
[Illustration: _Ahead of them, a shadow showed, a shambling shadow!
Tumbu ... with a bound was off full tilt after it._]
So they went on till a glimmer of dawn showed them that the summit had
been reached, the downward slope begun. But still, far and near, nothing
but snow was to be seen. Then suddenly, ahead of them, a shadow showed,
a shambling shadow! Tumbu stopped dead, sniffed, then with a bound was
off full tilt after it, the sledge, with the two children in it, flying
behind him!
For an instant the others were too much astonished to speak. Then Roy,
with frantic cries to Tumbu to come back, was off after them. In vain!
As he crested a little rise he saw by the growing light a big brown
Isabelline bear shambling along contentedly, seeming to go no pace at
all, yet gaining steadily on the sledge that was giving chase.
"I will follow as fast as I can!" panted the Râjput lad breathlessly, as
Foster-father, Meroo, and Old Faithful, hampered by their greater
weight, ran up. "It is a bear; but they cannot catch it--and Tumbu will
tire--then he always comes back. Follow you on my tracks with the
women."
With that he was off like an arrow from a bow behind the bear, Tumbu,
the sledge, the Heir-to-Empire and the Princess Bakshee Bâni Begum, who
by this time had all disappeared behind the hilly horizon.