THE RESCUE OF NOREEN
There was a moment's consternation among the Bhuttias. Then they sprang to
their feet and began to draw their _dahs_. But suddenly one cried:
"The demon elephant! The devil man!"
Another and another took up the cry. Then all at once in terror they turned
and plunged panic-stricken into the undergrowth. All but two--the wearer of
shoes and a man with a scarred face beside him. While the rest fled they
stood their ground and called vainly to their companions to come back. When
they found themselves deserted the wearer of shoes pulled out a revolver
and fired at Dermot, while his scarred comrade drew his sword and ran
towards Noreen.
The soldier, ignoring his own danger but fearing for the girl's life, threw
his rifle to his shoulder and sent a bullet crashing through her
assailant's skull, then with his second barrel he shot the man with the
pistol through the heart. The first raider collapsed instantly and fell in
a heap, while the other, dropping his weapon, swayed for a moment,
staggered forward a few feet, and fell dead.
Only then could Dermot look at Noreen. In the dramatic moment of his
appearance the girl had uttered no sound, but sat rigid with her eyes fixed
on him. When the swordsman rushed at her she seemed scarcely conscious of
her peril but she started in terror and grew deadly pale when his companion
fired at her rescuer. When both fell her tension relaxed. She sank back
half-fainting in her chair and closed her eyes.
When she opened them again Badshah was kneeling a few yards away and Dermot
stood beside her cutting the cords that bound her.
She looked up at him and said simply:
"I knew you would come."
With an affectation of light-heartedness that he was far from feeling he
replied laughing:
"Of course you did. I am bound to turn up like the clown in the pantomime,
saying, 'Here we are again.' Oh, I forgot. I am a bit late. I should have
appeared on the scene when those beggars got to your bungalow."
He pretended to treat the whole affair lightly and made no further allusion
to her adventure, asking no questions about it. He was afraid lest she
should break down in the sudden relief from the strain and anxiety. But
there was no cause to fear it. The girl was quietly brave and imitated his
air of unconcern, behaving after the first moment as if they were meeting
under the most ordinary circumstances. She smiled, though somewhat feebly,
as she said:
"Oh, not a clown, Major Dermot. Rather the hero of a cinema drama, who
always appears in time to rescue the persecuted maiden. I am beginning to
feel quite like the unlucky heroine of a film play."
The cords fastening her had now been cut, so she tried to stand up but
found no strength in her numbed limbs.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm--I'm rather stiff," she said, sinking back into the
chair again. She felt angry at her weakness, but she was almost glad of it
when she saw Dermot's instant look of concern.
"You are cramped from being tied up," he said. "Don't hurry."
The cords had chafed her wrists cruelly. He stooped to examine the
abrasions, and the girl thrilled at his gentle touch. A feeling of shyness
overcame her, and she turned her eyes away from his face. They fell on the
bodies of the dead raiders, and she hastily averted her gaze.
"Hadn't we better hurry away from here?" she asked, apprehensively.
"No; I don't think there is any necessity. The men who ran away seemed too
scared to think of returning. But still, we'll start as soon as you feel
strong enough."
"What was it that they cried out?"
"Oh, merely an uncomplimentary remark about Badshah and me," he replied.
The girl made another attempt to rise and succeeded with his assistance. He
lifted her on to Badshah's pad and went over to examine the dead men. After
his first casual glance at the wearer of shoes he knelt down and looked
closely into the face of the corpse. Then he pulled open the single
garment. A thin cord consisting of three strings of spun cotton was round
the body next the skin, passing over the left shoulder and under the right
arm. This Dermot cut off. From inside the garment he took out some other
articles, all of which he pocketed. He then searched the corpse of the
scarred Bhuttia, taking a small packet tied up in cloth from the breast of
the garment. Noreen watched him with curiosity and marvelled at his courage
in handling the dead bodies.
He returned to the kneeling elephant and took his place on the neck.
"Hold on now, Miss Daleham," he said. "Badshah's going to rise. _Uth_"
Noreen gripped the surcingle rope tightly as the elephant heaved up his big
body and set off along a track through the jungle at a rapid pace.
"Now we are safe enough," said Dermot, turning towards his companion. "I
have not asked you yet about your adventures. Tell me all that happened to
you, if you don't mind talking about it."
"Oh, it was awful," she answered, shuddering at the remembrance. "And it
was all so sudden. There was a fire in the jungle near the garden, and Fred
went with the others to put it out. He wouldn't let me accompany him, but
told me to go for my ride in the opposite direction. I didn't stay away
long. I had just returned to the bungalow and dismounted and was giving my
pony a piece of sugar, when several Bhuttias rushed at me from behind the
house and seized me. Poor Lalla, my _syce_, tried to keep them off with his
bare hands, but one brute struck him on the head with his sword. The poor
boy fell, covered with blood. I'm afraid he was killed."
"No, he isn't dead," remarked Dermot. "I saw him, and I think that he'll
live."
"Oh, I'm so glad to hear it," exclaimed the girl. "Ever since I saw it I've
had before my eyes the dreadful sight of the poor lad lying on the ground
covered with blood and apparently lifeless. Well, to go on. I called the
other servants, but no one came. The Bhuttias tied my hands and tried to
lift me on to my pony's back, but Kitty got frightened and bolted. Then
they didn't seem to know what to do, and one went to a man who had remained
at a distance from us and spoke to him. He apparently told them to fetch a
chair from the bungalow and put me into it. I tried to struggle, but I was
powerless in their grasp. I was fastened to the chair, poles were tied to
it, and at a sign from the man who stood alone--he seemed to be the
leader--I was lifted up and carried off."
"Did you notice anything about this man--the leader?" asked Dermot.
"Yes, he was not like the others in face. He didn't seem to me to be a
Bhuttia at all. He was one of the two that you shot--the man with shoes. It
seems absurd, but do you know, his face appeared rather familiar to me
somehow. But of course I could never have seen him before."
"Are you sure that you hadn't? Think hard," said Dermot eagerly.
The girl shook her head.
"It's no use. I puzzled over the likeness most of the time that I was in
their hands, but I couldn't place him."
Dermot looked disappointed.
The girl continued:
"We went through the forest for hours without stopping, except to change
the bearers of my chair. I noticed that the leader spoke to one man only,
the man with the scars on his face whom you shot, too, and he passed on the
orders."
"Could you tell in what language these two spoke to each other?"
"No; they never talked in my hearing. In fact I noticed that the man with
shoes always avoided coming near me. Well, we went on and on and never
halted until we reached the place where you found us. It seemed to be a
spot that they had aimed for. I saw the scarred man examining some marks on
the trees in it and pointing them out to the leader, who then gave the
order to stop."
"How did they behave to you?"
"No one took any notice of me. They simply carried me, lifted me up, and
dumped me down as if I were a tea-chest," replied the girl. "Well, that is
all my adventure. But now please tell me how you came so opportunely to my
rescue. Was it by chance or did you follow us? Oh, I forgot. You said you
saw Lalla, so you must have been at Malpura. Did Fred send you?"
Dermot briefly related all that had happened. When he told her of his
dispute with Badshah about the route to be followed and how the elephant
proved to be in the right she cried enthusiastically:
"Oh, the dear thing! He's just the most wonderful animal in the world.
Forgive me for interrupting. Please go on."
When he had finished his tale there was silence between them for a little.
Then Noreen said in a voice shaking with emotion:
"How can I thank you? Again you have saved me. And this time from a fate
even more dreadful than the first. I'd sooner be killed outright by the
elephants than endure to be carried off to some awful place by those
wretches. Who were they? Were they brigands, like one reads of in Sicily?
Was I to be killed or to be held to ransom?"
"Oh, the latter, I suppose," replied Dermot.
But there was a doubtful tone about his words. In fact, he was at a loss to
understand the affair. It was probably not what he had thought it at
first--an attempt on the part of enterprising Bhuttia raiders to carry off
an Englishwoman for ransom. For when he overtook them they were on a path
that led away from the mountains, so they were not making for Bhutan. And
the identity of the leader perplexed him.
There could be no political motive for the outrage. The affair was a
puzzle. But he put the matter aside for the time being and began to
consider their position. The sun was declining, for the afternoon was well
advanced. As far as he could judge they were a long way from Malpura, and
it seemed to him that Badshah was not heading directly for the garden. But
he had sufficient confidence in the animal's intelligence to refrain from
interfering with him again. The pangs of hunger reminded him that he had
had no food since the early morning cup of tea at the planter's bungalow
where he had passed the night, for he had hoped to breakfast at Malpura. It
occurred to him that his companion must be in the same plight.
"Are you hungry, Miss Daleham?" he asked.
"Hungry? I don't know. I haven't had time to think about food," she
replied. "But I'm very thirsty."
"Would you like a cup of tea?"
"Oh, don't tantalise me, Major," she replied laughing. "I feel I'd give
anything for one now. But unfortunately there aren't any tea-rooms in this
wonderful jungle of yours."
Dermot smiled.
"Perhaps it could be managed," he said. "What I am concerned about is how
to get something substantial to eat, for I foolishly came away from
Granger's bungalow, where I stayed last night, without replenishing my
stores, which had run low. I intended asking you for enough to carry me
back to Ranga Duar. But when I heard what had happened--Hullo! with luck
there's our dinner."
He broke off suddenly, for a jungle cock had crowed in the forest not far
away.
"I wish I had a shot gun," he whispered. "But my rifle will have to do.
_Mul_, Badshah."
He guided the elephant quietly and cautiously in the direction from which
the sound had come. Presently they came to an open glade and heard the fowl
crow again. Dermot halted Badshah in cover and waited. Presently there was
a patter over the dry leaves lying on the ground, and a jungle cock, a bird
similar to an English bantam, stalked across the glade twenty yards away.
It stopped and began to peck. Dermot quietly raised his rifle and took
careful aim at its head. He fired, and the body of the cock fell to the
earth headless.
"What a good shot, Major!" exclaimed Noreen, who had been quite excited.
"It was an easy one, for this rifle's extremely accurate and the range was
very short. I fired at the head, for if I had hit the body with such a big
bullet there wouldn't have been much dinner left for us. Now I think that
we shall have to halt for a little time. I know that you must be eager to
get back home and relieve your brother's anxiety. But Badshah has been
going for many hours on end and has not delayed to graze on the way, so it
would be wise to give him a rest and a feed."
"Yes, indeed," said the girl. "He thoroughly deserves it."
She was not unwilling that the time spent in Dermot's company should be
prolonged. It was a sweet and wonderful experience to be thus alone with
him in the enchanted jungle. She had forgotten her fears; and the
remembrance of her recent unpleasant adventure vanished in her present
happiness. For she was subtly conscious of a new tenderness in his manner
towards her.
The elephant sank down, and Dermot dismounted and lifted the girl off
carefully. Noreen felt herself blushing as he held her in his arms, and she
was thankful that he did not look at her, but when he had put her down,
busied himself in taking off Badshah's pad and laying it on the ground.
Unstrapping his blankets he spread one and rolled the other up as a pillow.
"Now please lie down on this, Miss Daleham," he said. "A rest will do you
good, too. I am going to turn cook and show you how we fare in the jungle."
The girl took off her hat and was only too glad to stretch herself on the
pad, which made a comfortable couch, for the emotions of the day had worn
her out. She watched Dermot as he moved about absorbed in his task. From
one pocket of the pad he took out a shallow aluminium dish and a small,
round, convex iron plate. From another he drew a linen bag and a tin
canister.
"You said that you would like tea, Miss Daleham," he remarked. "Well, you
shall have some presently."
"Yes; but how can you make it?" she asked. "There's no water in the
jungle."
"Plenty of it."
"Are we near a stream, then?"
"No; the water is all round us, waiting for me to draw it off."
The girl looked about her.
"What do you mean? I don't see any. Where is the water?"
"Hanging from the trees," he replied, laughing. "I'll admit you into one of
the secrets of the jungle. But first I want a fire."
He gathered dried grass and sticks, cleared a space of earth and built
three fires, two on the ground with a large lump of hard clay on either
side of each, the third in a hole that he scraped out.
"To be consistent I ought to produce fire by rubbing two pieces of dried
wood together, as they do in books of adventure," he said, turning to the
interested girl. "It can be done. I have seen natives do it; but it is a
lengthy process and I prefer a match."
He took out a box and lit the fires.
"Now," he said, "if you'll see to these for me, I'll go and get the kettle
and crockery."
At the far end of the glade was a clump of bamboos. Dermot selected the
biggest stem and hacked it down with his _kukri_. From the thicker end he
cut off a length from immediately below a knot to about a foot above it,
trimmed the edges and brought it to Noreen. It made a beautifully clean and
polished pot, pale green outside, white within.
"There is your kettle and tea-pot," he said.
From a thinner part he cut off similarly two smaller vessels to serve as
cups.
"Now then for the water to fill the kettle," he said, looking around among
the creepers festooning the trees for the _pani bêl_. When he found the
plant he sought, he cut off a length and brought it to the girl, who had
never heard of it. Asking her to hold the bamboo pot he filled it with
water from the creeper, much to her astonishment.
"How wonderful!" she cried. "Is it really good to drink?"
"Perfectly."
"But how are you going to boil it?"
"In that bamboo pot."
"But surely that will burn?"
"No, the water will boil long before the green wood begins to be charred,"
replied Dermot, placing the pot over the first fire on the two lumps of
clay, so that the flames could reach it.
Then he opened the linen bag, which Noreen found to contain _atta_, or
native flour. Some of this he poured into the round aluminium dish and with
water from the _pani bêl_ he mixed dough, rolled it into balls, and patted
them into small flat cakes. Over the second fire he placed the iron plate,
convex side up, and when it grew hot put the cakes on it.
"How clever of you! You are making _chupatis_ like the natives do,"
exclaimed Noreen. "I love them. I get the cook to give them to us for tea
often."
She watched him with interest and amusement, as he turned the cakes over
with a dexterous flip when one side browned; then, when they were done, he
took them off and piled them on a large leaf.
"Who would ever imagine that you could cook?" Noreen said, laughing. "Do
let me help. I feel so lazy."
"Very well. Look after the _chupatis_ while I get the fowl ready," he
replied.
He cleaned the jungle cock, wrapped it up in a coating of wet clay and laid
it in the hot ashes of the third fire, covering it over with the red
embers.
Just as he had finished the girl cried: "The water is actually boiling? Who
would have believed it possible?"
"Now we are going to have billy tea as they make it in the bush in
Australia," said Dermot, opening the canister and dropping tea from it into
the boiling water.
Noreen gathered up a pile of well-toasted _chupatis_ and turned a smiling,
dimpled face to him.
"This is the jolliest picnic I've ever had," she cried. "It was worth being
carried off by those wretches to have all these delightful surprises. Now,
tea is ready, sir. Please may I pour it out?"
He wrapped his handkerchief round the pot before handing it to her.
"I suppose you haven't a dairy in your wonderful jungle?" she asked,
laughing.
"No; I'm sorry to say that you must put up with condensed milk," he
replied, producing a tin from a pocket of the pad and opening it with his
knife.
"What a pity! That spoils the illusion," declared the girl. "I ought to
refuse it; but I'll pass it for this occasion, as I don't like my tea
unsugared and milkless. No, I refuse to have a spoon." For he took out a
couple and some aluminium plates from the inexhaustible pad. "I'll stir my
tea with a splinter of bamboo and eat my _chupatis_ off leaves. It is more
in keeping with the situation."
Like a couple of light-hearted children they sat side by side on the pad,
drank their tea from the rude bamboo cups and devoured the hot _chupatis_
with enjoyment; while, invisible in the dense undergrowth, Badshah twenty
yards away betrayed his presence by tearing down creepers and breaking off
branches. In due time Dermot took from the hot ashes a hardened clay ball,
broke it open and served up the jungle fowl, from which the feathers had
been stripped off by the process of cooking. Noreen expressed herself
disappointed when her companion produced knives and forks from the magic
pockets of the pad.
"We ought to be consistent and use our fingers," she said.
When they had finished their meal, which the girl declared was the most
enjoyable one that she had ever had, Dermot made her rest again on the pad
while he cleaned and replaced his plates, cutlery, and cooking vessels.
Then, leaning his back against a tree, he filled and lit his pipe, while
Noreen watched him stealthily and admiringly. In the perfect peace and
silence of the forest encompassing them she felt reluctant to leave the
enchanted spot.
But suddenly the charm was rudely dispelled. A shot rang out close by, and
Dermot's hat was knocked from his head as a bullet passed through it and
pierced the bark of the tree half an inch above his hair. As though the
shot were a signal, fire was opened on the glade from every side, and for a
moment the air seemed full of whistling bullets. The soldier sprang to
Noreen, picked her up like a child in his arms, and ran with her to an
enormously thick _simal_ tree, behind which he placed her. Then he gathered
up the pad and piled it on her exposed side as some slight protection. At
least it hid her from sight.
As he did so the firing redoubled in intensity and bullets whistled and
droned through the glade. One grazed his cheek, searing the flesh as with a
red-hot iron. Another wounded him slightly in the neck, while a third cut
the skin of his thigh. He seemed to bear a charmed life; and the girl
watching him felt her heart stop, as the blood showed on his face and neck.
The flying lead sent leaves fluttering to the ground, cut off twigs, and
struck the tree-trunks with a thud. Flinging himself at full length on the
ground Dermot reached his rifle, then crawled to shelter behind another
tree.
He looked eagerly around for his assailants. At first he could see no one.
Suddenly through the undergrowth about thirty yards away the muzzle of an
old musket was pushed out, and then a dark face peered cautiously behind
it. The eyes in it met Dermot's, but that glance was their last. The
soldier's rifle spoke, and the face disappeared as its owner's body pitched
forward among the bushes and lay still. At the sharp report of the white
man's weapon the firing all around ceased suddenly. But the intense silence
that followed was broken by a strange sound like the shrill blast of a
steam whistle mingled with the crackling of sheets of tin rapidly shaken
and doubled. Noreen, crouching submissively in the shelter where Dermot had
placed her, thrilled and wondered at the uncanny sound.
The soldier knew well what it was. It was Badshah's appeal for help, and he
wondered why the animal had given it then, so late. But far away a wild
elephant trumpeted in reply. There was a crashing in the undergrowth as
Badshah dashed away and burst through the cordon of enemies encircling
them. Dermot's heart sank; for, although he rejoiced that his elephant was
out of danger, his sole hope of getting Noreen and himself away had lain in
running the gauntlet on the animal's back through their invisible foes.
As he gripped his rifle, keenly alert for a mark to aim at, his thoughts
were busy. He was amazed at this unexpected attack and utterly unable to
guess who their assailants could be. They were not the Bhuttias again, for
those had no guns. And the man that he had just shot was not a mountaineer.
Although it was evident that the firearms used were mostly old smooth-bore
muskets, and the smoke from the powder rose in clouds over the undergrowth
and drifted to the tree-tops, he had detected the sharp crack of a modern
rifle occasionally among the duller reports of the more ancient weapons.
The mysterious attackers were apparently numerous and completely surrounded
them. Dermot cursed himself for his folly in halting for food instead of
pushing on to safety without a stop. But he had calculated on the
superstitious fears of the Bhuttias who had been scared away by the sight
of him and Badshah; and indeed to all appearance he was right in so doing.
He could not reckon on new enemies springing up around them. Who could they
be? It was almost inconceivable that in this quiet corner of the Indian
Empire two English people could be thus assailed. The only theory that he
could form was that the attackers were a band of Bengali political
_dacoits_.
The firing started again. Dermot appeared to be so well hidden that none of
their enemies had discovered him, except the one unlucky wretch whose
courage had proved his ruin. The shots were being fired at random and all
went high. But there seemed no hope of escape; for it was evident from the
sounds and the smoke that the girl and he were completely surrounded. For
one wild moment he thought of rising suddenly to his feet and making a dash
through the cordon, hoping to draw all their enemies after him and give his
companion a chance of escape. But the plan was futile; for she would never
find her way alone through the jungle and would fall at once into the hands
of her foes.
Suddenly a heavy bullet struck the tree a foot above his head, evidently
fired from behind him. He instantly rolled over on his back and lay
motionless with his eyes half-closed, looking in the direction from which
the shot must have come. The bushes not ten yards away were parted quietly;
and a head was thrust out. With a swift motion Dermot swung his rifle round
until the muzzle pointed over his toes and, holding the weapon in one hand
like a pistol, fired point-blank at the assailant who had crept up quietly
behind him. Shot through the head the man pitched forward on his face,
almost touching the soldier's feet. Dermot saw that the corpse was that of
a low-caste Hindu, clad only in a dirty cotton _koorta_ and _dhoti_. A
Tower musket lay beside him.
The wild firing died down again. The sun was setting; and the soldier
judged that the attackers were probably waiting for darkness to rush him.
Why they did not do so at once, since they were so numerous, surprised him;
but he surmised that it was lack of courage. It was maddening to be obliged
to await their pleasure. He was far more concerned about the girl than for
himself. A feeling of dread pity filled his heart when he thought of what
her fate would be when he was no longer alive to protect her. Should he
kill her, he asked himself, and give her a swift and merciful death instead
of the horrors of outrage and torture that would probably be her lot if she
fell alive into the hands of these murderous scoundrels? In those moments
of tension and terrible strain he realised that she was very dear to him,
that she evoked in his heart a feeling that no other woman had ever aroused
in him.
The sun was going down; and with it Dermot felt that his life was passing.
He grudged losing it in an obscure and causeless scuffle, instead of on an
honourable field of battle as a soldier should. He wished that he had a
handful of his splendid sepoys with him. They would have made short work of
a hundred of such ruffians as now threatened him. But it was useless to
long for them. He drew his _kukri_ and laid it on the ground beside him,
ready for the last grim struggle. He had resolved to crawl to the girl when
darkness settled on the forest, and, before the rush came, give her the
chance of a swift and honourable death, shoot her if she chose it--as he
was confident that she would--then close with his foes until death came.
The light grew fainter. Dermot nerved himself for the terrible task before
him and was about to move, when with a light and unfaltering step Noreen
came to him.