"There _is_ gratitude left in the world."
Herbert Raynier was lying in the damp and pitchy gloom of his dungeon,
sleeping as soundly and as peacefully as though he were not to be led
forth and beheaded with the rising of the morrow's sun. That last
interview had calmed and soothed him, and now his slumbers were bright--
for he was amid beautiful scenes, far away, and Hilda was beside him.
Then he started up--and with the first flash of awaking consciousness
came the thought that the time had come, and the hand that had dropped
on his shoulder in the darkness was that which should lead him forth to
his doom.
"There _is_ gratitude left in the world."
The words were uttered softly, and--in good English. Was he dreaming?
But immediately a shaded light rendered things visible. Hands were busy
about his shackles, and lo! they fettered his ankles no more.
"I have come to save you, brother," went on the whispered voice. "If
you obey me implicitly you will be free immediately. Put on these, and
until I give leave, do not speak so much as one little word."
Raynier obeyed him in both particulars. In a moment or two he was
arrayed in the white loose garments and turban of the border tribes.
For the other injunction, he whispered but one name,--
"Shere Dil Khan?"
"Yes. Now--silence." Following his guide, to Raynier it seemed they
were traversing endless and labyrinthine passages. With something of a
shudder he recognised that horrible door through which he had passed
during those acute moments of living death, then the Sirdar opened
another door, and the cool free air of the desert, blowing upon them,
told that they were outside the walls.
Still preserving the most rigid silence, they held on, downward, by a
steep path. Turning his head, Raynier could make out the loom of the
great mountain mass against the stars, and was conjecturing on the ease
and absence of obstacle which had characterised his deliverance at the
hands of the Nawab's son, for not a soul did they encounter, no guard
challenged them; and it occurred to him that, in the strength of his
fetters, his safe keeping had lain, wherefore no watch was placed over
him; and this was the real meaning of it.
For about half an hour they had been walking swiftly and in silence,
when Shere Dil Khan stopped. Before them was a rude herdsman's shelter,
and from within came a sound.
They entered this, and, was it imagination? but Raynier thought to
perceive a human figure dart out at the other end. But here stood two
horses, saddled and bridled.
"Mount," said Shere Dil Khan, breaking the silence. And he thrust a
rifle into the other's hand. "It is a Lee-Metford, and the magazine is
fully loaded, but here are other cartridges."
"You might well have thought that gratitude was dead in the world, my
brother," resumed the Sirdar, as they rode on through the night. "But
had I shown any recognition of you then, you would not be here now, for,
the Nawab's suspicions once aroused, you would have been strongly
guarded. Even to the lady I dared not give the slightest encouragement
to hope."
"I misjudged you, brother, forgive me. But would not the Nawab have
reckoned what I was able to do for you as a set-off against what my
father is supposed to have done."
"He would not, for he had sworn, and an oath is binding. Now that you
have escaped he will not be sorry, when he learns how you saved me from
the murderous rabble in your country. But, brother, get your Government
to remove you from this border, because now it is the duty of every
Gularzai to take your life."
Raynier thought that his Government would not require much "getting"
under all the circumstances, and perhaps it was as well.
"But you, brother? Will not you have to suffer for this?"
"No. My father will be displeased, but although he would not have
spared you, at heart he will be glad you have escaped, having saved the
life of his son."
It had been midnight when they started. Towards daybreak they paused to
rest their horses, then on again.
"Yonder is she who would have redeemed you, brother," said Shere Dil
Khan.
In front were discernible two mounted figures. Raynier's heart leaped,
and he well-nigh blessed his peril, by reason of that which it had drawn
forth. But the meeting between the two was subdued, for there were
others present Shere Dil Khan and the Baluchi were deep in earnest
conference.
"Farewell now, brother," said the former. "I can go no further. Allah
be with ye! I think the way is open, yet do not delay, and avoid others
if possible." And with a farewell handclasp the Sirdar turned his horse
and cantered swiftly away.
Twice they sighted parties of Gularzai, but these were distant and
unmounted, moreover, they themselves being in native attire attracted no
attention. The sun rose over the chaos of jagged peaks, and to those
wanderers it seemed that he never rose upon a fairer and brighter
world--yet they were in a desert of arid plain, and cliff, and hump-like
hills streaked white with gypsum. Mehrab Khan thought that by swift
travelling they might reach Mazaran by the middle of the next night.
All seemed fair and promising.
On the right front rose a great mountain range, broken and rugged, and
now they were crossing a long narrow plain. Then, at the end of this
they became aware of something moving.
"Horsemen--and Gularzai," pronounced Mehrab Khan.
Were they pursued? was the first thought of his hearers. For they made
out that this was a party four or five dozen strong perhaps. Yet, why
should they attract the attention of these any more than of other groups
they had passed? They forgot one thing. Hilda, though in native
costume, was riding European fashion, side saddle.
Further scrutiny did not tend to reassure. The horsemen were heading in
their direction, and riding rapidly. It began to wear an ugly look of
pursuit. This might prove to be a stray wandering band, but even that
did not seem to mend matters.
Raynier and Mehrab Khan held rapid consultation. It would look less
suspicious to ride on if they had been seen, they decided, and there was
nowhere to hide, if they had not. But soon a glimpse behind placed the
question beyond all doubt. The distance between themselves and the
horsemen had diminished perceptibly. The latter, strung out over the
plain, were coming for them at a gallop.
As they put their steeds to a corresponding pace, it seemed to Raynier
that all he had gone through was as nothing to that moment. They would
be captured, for, bearing in mind the pace at which they had hitherto
travelled, their steeds were urgently in need of a blow. Just as they
had reckoned on having gained safety at last, and now--all was lost.
On, on, swept this wild chase, and now the pursuers were near enough to
shout to them to halt Hilda's steed was beginning to show signs of
giving in. Then its rider uttered breathlessly,--
"Herbert, I see a chance. That bend of rock just ahead. Beyond it--the
_tangi_--the Syyed's _tangi_."
"A chance, indeed," he answered, all athrill at the discovery. "The
only thing is will they fight shy of it now, as they did in cold blood?"
"They will--they will," she panted.
Now they had gained the rock portal--towering up grim and frowning
overhead, and the pursuers had nearly gained it too. But these last,
the foremost of them, drew up a little way from the entrance. So did
others who came up. It was evident they recognised the place, and the
force of superstition was strong.
Crouched among the boulders the three fugitives could just see what was
going on. One who seemed a leader was evidently urging them forward--
riding up and down their line haranguing and gesticulating vehemently.
At last six or seven men broke from the others, and, followed by these,
the chief advanced towards the mouth of the chasm.
"Murad Afzul, _Huzoor_," whispered Mehrab Khan.
"It is his last quarter of an hour," grimly answered Raynier, sighting
his rifle. And then an inspiration came to him, and he whispered some
hurried instructions to Mehrab Khan. The Baluchi immediately left his
side, and retired further into the chasm.
"Hilda, dearest, do you think you could hold the horses, in case they
get a bit of a scare?" he said. "I have a plan which will save us, if
anything will. Stand behind that elbow of rock with them."
Without a word she obeyed, and now the Gularzai were already within the
mouth of the _tangi_, Murad Afzul leading. What followed was weirdly
startling. The whole of the grim and gloomy chasm roared with the most
appalling sounds, mingled with shriekings and wailings. To and fro--
tossed along those gigantic cliff walls the echoes bellowed, giving
forth strange mouthings, and then, over all, from the dim inner recesses
of the cavernous rift spake an awful voice.
"O unbelievers, violators of my sanctuary, retire, or ye die--die even
as those three now lying here, whom none may find until the ending of
the world. He who makes one step forward, that moment he dies. In the
name of the Great, the Terrible One."
The suddenness of it, the awful appalling din, the sombre repute of the
place, and the consciousness that they were knowingly venturing on
sacrilege, had an effect upon the intruders which was akin to panic.
They stopped short, reining in their horses cruelly, lest they should
accidentally make that one step forward, and their fierce shaggy visages
seemed petrified with the terror that was in them. But Murad Afzul's
horse at that moment, wildly plunging, half stumbled on a round stone,
and the jerk of the bit, and the savage sting of the hide whip,
instinctively administered, caused it to take a bound forward. Then it
stopped dead still, and its rider half stood up in his stirrups with a
quick jerk, then, throwing up his arms, toppled heavily, and with a
crash, on to the stones.
One terrified glance at the set face and glazing eyes, and the whole
half-dozen venturesome ones turned and stampeded wildly from the
terrible spot, muttering citations from the Koran to avert further evil.
What could be clearer? Their leader had made a forbidden step forward
and--and he had died, even as the ghost of the holy one whose sanctuary
it was, had threatened. He had died, stricken by the powers of the air
at the bidding of the Syyed.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Raynier, his nerves all athrill with this passing of the crisis,
withdrew his rifle, feeling something of savage satisfaction and pride
in his successful shot. But it did not at once occur to him that the
wild and deafening din of the reverberations had so completely drowned
the report of his piece that no shadow of a suspicion lay upon the minds
of the now discomfited pursuers that their leader had met his death by
mortal agency, or by any other than that of the powers of the unseen.
It was left to Hilda to suggest, and the idea was a reassuring one,
because it meant that no further pursuit would be undertaken. Her he
found struggling with the bridles of the scared and refractory horses,
and at the same time convulsively laughing.
"It was so comical," she explained. "Fancy our being able to turn that
echo to such account. It was clever of you to hit upon that idea."
Then gravely, "Do you remember what I said that night, Herbert, the
second time we were in here together? `Something warns me there will
come a day when our knowledge of this place will make all the difference
between life and death.' Well, has it made that difference?"
"I should rather think so. But what puzzles me is how on earth you knew
we were anywhere near the place. We entered it now, mind you, by the
end furthest from the camp, and we never went outside that on either of
those occasions."
"I knew it by that split rock and the little one beside it, rising up
out of the nullah down there. I noticed them opposite this entrance the
first time we were here."
"Wonderful! Do you know, Hilda, Haslam says there's something uncanny
about you, and I begin to believe there is."
"Only _begin_ to believe?" And she laughed gaily, happily.
The comedy side of what had come near being tragedy did not appeal to
Mehrab Khan in the least. They found that estimable Baluchi in a
serious and gloomy vein. In the first place he had penetrated here and
had thus incurred the consequent penalty; in the next by taking the
voice of the dead Syyed he had committed an act of sacrilege. Raynier
strove to reassure him.
"If Allah used this place as a means of saving our lives," he said, "he
does not intend that it shall be the means of our losing them, and it
was written that they should be saved here. Besides, O believer, it was
upon the people of this country that the dead Syyed laid the curse, not
upon us, who are not of this country."
And this, perhaps, was what went furthest towards reassuring Mehrab
Khan. He repeated sententiously,--
"It was written."