havildar was to take next day. Ditta Lal had retired to his own
quarters, to pass, it is to be feared, a very uneasy night: he was bold
only when the odds were heavily on his side. Presently Fazl came to the
house to report that he had cleaned the engine, replenished the tanks
with petrol and lubricating oil, and examined all the gear. A thought
struck Bob.
"I shall fly down-stream again as soon as it is light," he said. "Are
you willing to come with me?"
"The sahib orders," said the man, smiling with pleasure.
"Then get Shan Tai to give you two or three baskets of food and take
them to the ledge. Meet me there as soon as there's any light in the
sky. Bring your kukuri."
Fazl smiled again. No Gurkha goes abroad without his national weapon,
half bill-hook, and half falchion. He departed, salaaming cheerfully.
"He'll be useful in looking after the machine if I'm otherwise engaged,"
thought Bob, as he went wearily to his room, to snatch a few hours' rest
before he set off again. "Poor old Lawrie!" he said to himself. "I'm
afraid he's desperately cold."
In the hurry of departure he had forgotten to hand out the wadded coat
which Lawrence, like himself, wore when flying. Whether the little
party at the bridge were disturbed by the enemy or not, he feared that
his brother must pass a very uncomfortable night.
Up before daybreak, Bob, after a hurried breakfast, paid the promised
visit to Muhammad, to whom, however, he told nothing. If the man was to
be of any use in the fighting that might be in store, it was necessary
that he should recover his strength, and such recovery would only be
retarded by excitement. Then Bob supplied himself with plenty of
cartridges, borrowed a red handkerchief from Chunda Beg, and made his
way along the path to the aeroplane platform. Fazl was already there:
everything was in order: and as soon as the grey light of dawn began to
creep over the hill-tops, the two men got into their places, and with a
hum and swish the aeroplane set forth on its flight down-stream.
Bob's experience of the previous night was reversed. Then, the curtain
of shade had rolled up from the valley, ever higher, until sky and earth
were mingled in one blackness. Now, the dark crept gradually downward,
every minute uncovering a few more feet of the barren hill-sides. But
during the brief flight from the mine the depths of the valley were
scarcely penetrated by the feeble rays of morning, and it was not until
the aeroplane came to the neighbourhood of the bridge that the river and
the track upon its bank were distinguishable. Bob knew not what he
might have passed during that forty minutes. Once, when he judged that
about two-thirds of the flight was completed, he thought he heard a
shout from below, and guessed that the Pathans, marching down the track,
had caught the sound of his propeller, and had called to let him know
that all was well.
The twilight had banished darkness from the bottom of the valley by the
time he came in sight of the bridge. He looked anxiously down for his
brother's party, and was on the point of shifting the elevator so as to
drop a little nearer earth when he saw puffs of smoke just beyond the
bend in the left bank, and immediately afterwards heard the crack of
rifles. Evidently the enemy were still in position. Reversing his
movement, so as to rise instead of falling, and avoid the fate that had
overtaken his uncle, he glanced down at the rocks near the bridge head,
and saw grouped there a number of figures among whom he thought he
recognized Lawrence. At the same moment a vociferous cheer reached him
through the throbbing hum of the engine, and the greeting relieved him
of anxiety about his brother.
Rising as quickly as possible, he held on his course, and in half a
minute flew directly over the Kalmucks, and came in sight of the reach
of the river beyond the bend. As he searched the banks, running the
gauntlet of a fusillade, he was conscious of a feeling of dismay. For a
full mile the river bank appeared to have been turned into a Kalmuck
encampment. At irregular intervals above and below the winding track,
the hill-side was dotted with tents and akois. Advantage seemed to have
been taken of every square yard of level space to erect these portable
shelters, which could be put up and taken down within a few minutes. It
was clear that he had to reckon, not merely with the small party who had
pursued him up-stream, but with a much larger number who had come up
from the distant encampment during the previous afternoon and night.
Horses were grouped wherever there was standing room for them. On the
track and about the tents men were gathered, all gazing up into the sky,
some taking shots at the aeroplane as it flew over them. It was flying
swiftly, however, and with a vertical as well as a horizontal movement,
so that even a practised sportsman, accustomed to shoot birds on the
wing, could scarcely have hit his mark. Bob heard two or three bullets
whistle past, but none struck the aeroplane or either of its occupants.
Having seen so much, he determined to pursue his reconnaissance down the
valley; it would be worth while to see if the camp on the plateau had
been struck, for he would then be sure that the mine was indeed the
objective of this force, and as he flew back be able, perhaps, to
estimate its size. For the next few miles only a few straggling
horsemen were visible, riding slowly up-stream. Then for a mile or two
the track was bare, and he suspected that the men he had last seen were
the rear of the enemy's force. Still flying on, he came at length to
the place where the valley broadened, and finally to the plateau which
had been the limit of his flight on the day before. Here he swept round
several times in ever widening circles, carefully scanning the ground.
The camp had completely disappeared. Thinking that in so wide an area
the small object which the encampment would present at so great a depth
might escape his notice, he wheeled again and again, until he assured
himself that no trace of it was discoverable. Then he was setting his
course to return to the valley, looking southward to pick up his
bearings, when there was a sudden shout from the Gurkha. He glanced
round: the man was pointing excitedly to the north-west.
Slowing down a little, but without altering his course, Bob looked in
the same direction. The country was now bathed in sunlight; the air was
clear; but he could perceive nothing to account for his companion's
excitement. He had faith enough in the man's intelligence, however, to
wheel round once more, and steer away from the valley.
"What is it, Fazl?" he asked.
"Tents, sahib; many tents, like flowers in a field."
It was at least a minute before Bob's less keen eyes were able to
confirm the man's strange announcement. Then he recognized that a huge
brown patch, which he might well have mistaken for an outcrop of rock,
or some other natural feature of the landscape, was in reality an
aggregation of nomad tents, similar to those which he had passed on the
hill-side behind.
If he had felt dismay at the sight of the force assembled in the valley,
his feeling now bordered on stupefaction. His brain was in a whirl.
The misdeeds of Nurla Bai were as a pebble cast into a pond. The
spreading circles had embraced a troop of Kalmuck horsemen, then a
regiment, finally what appeared to be an army. The motive had developed
from the spite and revenge of a single man to the greed of a company,
and now--to what? Surely the inhabitants of this vast array of tents
were not assembled for the puny purpose of snapping up a solitary silver
mine. What design had brought them to this remote and barren tract in a
desolate land?
[Illustration: RECONNOITRING IN THE AEROPLANE]
These were questions to which Bob was utterly unable to guess at the
answers. His surprise and alarm did but increase as he approached the
scene. Around a point where a small tributary joined the river from the
south-east, extended a large bare space several miles in area. Of this
open tract a portion that must have been at least a square mile in area,
bounded on one side by the left bank of the tributary and on the other
by the right bank of the river, was dotted with a series of encampments,
arranged in regular order, and looking in the distance not unlike a kind
of chess-board. Counting them as he drew nearer, Bob found that there
were twenty of these separate camps. As he approached the nearest, he
tried to number the rows of tents, and the individual tents in each row.
But his pace was too swift and his mind too bewildered to allow of an
exact reckoning. His impression was that there were twenty rows of
tents about ten deep. The tents were apparently small; if he were not
deceived by the distance, none of them could harbour more than five or
six men. But as his eye ranged over the whole encampment, and he made a
rapid calculation, he came to the staggering conclusion that the total
force there on the ground beneath him could not be far short of twenty
thousand men.
CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH
THE FIGHT AT THE BRIDGE
In the first moments of this amazing discovery, Bob's mind was confused
by the multiplicity of his sensations and imaginings. There were
several problems all clamouring at once for solution: his uncle's fate,
the plight of Lawrence, the future of the mine. But he soon realized
that no good result would come of aimless conjectures; "One thing at a
time, and concentrate your attention" had been the motto dinned into him
by one of his schoolmasters. The one insistent thing now was to learn
all that he could about this encampment--too large to be a fortuitous
gathering of nomads, too regular to be other than military in its
organization.
Bob flew straight for the camp, and when he came above its centre he
began to circle round and round with the object of getting a clear and
orderly idea of its nature. Observation from the great height to which
he had risen was not easy, and the necessity of keeping part of his
attention upon the aeroplane was a drawback. Naturally he could not
entrust the machine to Fazl, who was making his first flight. On the
other hand the Gurkha, who was wholly without nervousness, could devote
himself entirely to the task of observing. Thus, combining what Fazl
reported with what he was himself able to see, Bob obtained in the
course of twenty minutes a pretty good notion of the disposition of the
camp and the various movements that were going on.
To the north, a large body of horsemen, who were exercising when he
first caught sight of them, came to a halt, and were evidently intent on
watching the flying machine. Still farther northward, long trains of
primitive ox wagons were lumbering towards the camp, with a caravan of
camels here and there. Attached to the body of cavalry on the plain
there were no fewer than six batteries of field artillery. There was no
regular road into or out of this solitary region, but from the
appearance of the ground it was clear that the army had reached its
present position from the north-west. There was a narrower and fainter
track leading from the camp in the direction of the valley--no doubt the
route followed by the men now posted on the river bank.
It was inevitable that the sight of the aeroplane, wheeling over the
encampment in regular circles, should arouse lively curiosity and
excitement among the throngs of men below. Its appearance was greeted
at first with shouts either of surprise or alarm. Bob had twice made
the circuit before any action was taken: apparently the spectators had
not made up their minds as to the nature of this strange visitor, or
were waiting for orders. But as he began to circle for the third time a
change came over the scene. His systematic movements forced upon the
men the notion that he was scouting, spying upon them; and as soon as
this was realized they came to the conclusion that he was an enemy who
must be dealt with. At first there were a few scattered shots; then
regular volleys; at last an almost continuous crackle of musketry. By
this time Bob had discovered all that was possible from his altitude,
and feeling that nothing was to be gained by running risks, he decided
to swing round and head for the valley.
The marksmanship of the enemy's riflemen had not been such as to alarm
him hitherto; but it was a different matter when, soon after he turned,
the aeroplane became the target of one of the field batteries. Hearing
the deeper crack of two of the guns, he instantly steered to the left,
to gain a minute's grace while the guns were being trained in the new
direction. No third shot was fired; the gunners evidently recognized
that the odds were all against their hitting him. At the same time a
troop of horse who had started at a gallop in pursuit reined up; since
the guns were ineffectual it was not worth while chasing him on the
chance of a sudden mishap bringing him to the ground.
Another five minutes brought him to the entrance of the valley. He
still maintained a great height until he had passed over the encampment
on the lull-side; then, instructing Fazl to wave the red handkerchief as
they flew over the bridge, he executed a steep vol plane down to the
neighbourhood of the rocks held by Lawrence and the Pathans. It went
altogether against the grain to skim over the open space without
landing; but he knew that he could not have done so without becoming the
mark for hundreds of bullets. No other course was open to him than to
adhere to the plan already arranged with Lawrence, and sweep on up the
gorge towards the mine.
Another cheer greeted him from the little party below. All, then, was
still well with them. Accepting the signal of the red flag, Lawrence
would now withdraw his men, and hasten up the track as swiftly as
possible. No doubt he would get a mount behind one of the Pathans.
That pursuit by the enemy would be doubly difficult Bob recognized when
he noticed--what had escaped his observation as he flew
down-stream--that the handrail of the bridge had now disappeared. There
was no means of crossing the river at this point. He supposed that
Lawrence, during the night, had taken the precaution to cut the rope.
This was reassuring; it seemed to show that Lawrence, though without
military training and, as he himself had said, without military
instincts, yet was possessed of readiness and common sense, qualities of
much value both to soldiers and civilians.
At the same time Bob was rather loth to leave his brother to deal with
the enemy alone, in case they managed in some unimaginable way to cross
the river. He felt tempted to land somewhere within a few miles of the
bridge, and return on foot to take command of the party. But on second
thoughts this seemed to him a short-sighted policy. Though he could not
conceive that this army corps was directed against the Appleton mine,
the situation clearly demanded that he should return and assist in
completing the havildar's arrangements for the defence. The capture of
the mine might be regarded by the enemy as a trifling exploit by the
way. It was particularly important that the large force of Kalmuck
miners should be disposed of. They, if they realized the position, held
the key of the situation. There was little doubt that with a sudden
rush they could scatter the few Pathans now left at the mine, in the
teeth of the Sikh garrison. They would then be able to cut off the
retreat of Lawrence and his party, trapped between the Kalmuck miners
and their countrymen advancing up the valley. It was imperative, then,
that he should get back to the mine as quickly as possible, and his
uneasiness at leaving Lawrence was partially removed when, a dozen miles
from the bridge, he met the party of Pathans whom he had dispatched
overnight. Yet, if he could have foreseen the events of the next few
hours, he would have cast to the winds all questions of policy, and
risked a descent.
As he flew over the bridge, there had been nothing, except the broken
rope, to indicate that any change had taken place in the situation since
he left the spot on the previous evening. But Lawrence, during the hours
of darkness, had in fact passed through the most exciting experience of
his life.
When Bob sailed away up the gorge, and as soon as the humming of his
propeller could no longer be heard, Lawrence began to carry out his
instructions for the night. He felt no little anxiety; indeed, it was a
trying position for a lad who found himself, for the first time in his
life, faced with difficulties and dangers for which he had had no
preparation. But after all, it is character that tells. Lawrence was
naturally cool and level-headed; he had been known at school as a
"sticker" at cricket; he could wear out half-a-dozen bowlers. His
school had taught him lessons of self-reliance, and though he had never
been very enthusiastic in the cadet corps, he had won the mark of
efficiency, could shoot straight, and had learnt to think quickly and
act with promptitude. So, in spite of a natural nervousness, he saw
quite clearly what he had to do, and had grit enough to make up his mind
to do it.
He stationed two men behind the rocks near the bridge head, ordering
them to fire if they saw the least sign of an attempt to cross. They
were to be relieved every two hours. Mindful of Bob's advice, he
determined to keep watch all night himself: there was no one to relieve
him. Very soon, as night settled deep upon the valley, he began to feel
the cold, and thought regretfully of the thick coat lying on his seat in
the aeroplane. After the fatigues and wearing anxieties of the day he
was not in a condition to face the added strain of a long vigil in the
freezing air. He had great difficulty in keeping awake, and when one of
the Pathans lent him a saddle cloth in which to wrap himself, he soon
discarded it, lest the deceitful warmth should overcome his
watchfulness.
He dared not move about, but sat crouched on the ground beside the
Pathans with his rifle across his knees, listening for any sign of the
approach of the enemy. More than once he had to stir up his companions
when they dozed, until he grew tired of it; he would rely on himself,
and wake them at the first threatening of danger. But he found it
increasingly difficult to resist the soporific influence of the cold,
and of the monotonous lullaby sung by the river as it flowed past at the
foot of the shelving bank beneath him. Every now and then he got up,
stretched himself, and sat down again, not venturing even to slap
himself with his arms for fear of putting the enemy on the alert. He
gazed up into the sky, and tried to count and to identify the stars,
which, in this deep valley, appeared to him, he thought, as they would
appear to an observer at the bottom of a well. From time to time he
exchanged a few whispered words with his companions, until this resource
failed him through their slumberousness. When, at the end of the first
two hours, the men were relieved, the circumstances of the change had
the effect of rousing him a little; but the second pair were even more
sleepy than the first, and he lacked the energy to be continually
prodding them.
At length, when, in spite of his utmost efforts, he was nodding with
drowsiness, his ear was suddenly caught by a slight sound beneath him.
He pulled himself together, and listened intently. There was no
repetition of the sound. He began to think that he had been mistaken, or
that the sound had been made by some small animal scurrying along the
bank. But a few seconds later he heard it again; it was like that of a
small stone rolling down the rocky shelf. Now fully awake, he nudged
his companions and in a whisper bade them keep quiet and listen. The
Pathan passes from profound sleep to complete wakefulness in an instant.
They sat erect, all their senses on the alert. For a few moments nothing
was heard but the gurgling rush of the river; then with startling
suddenness the three watchers were aware that men were scrambling up the
slope. They sprang up. Dark shapes were dimly outlined beyond the
rocks. The Pathans fired, aiming as it were at shadows. Their shots
did not check the rush. In another moment, clubbing their rifles,
Lawrence and they were raining blows upon a swarm of figures that seemed
to spring out of the black depths beneath them.
Neither Lawrence nor either of the men could afterwards give a lucid
account of the confused scramble that ensued. All that they were sure
about was that, if they saw a form between them and the river, they hit
out at it. It soon became impossible to distinguish friend from foe. In
spite of their swift and weighty strokes the enemy, whose number seemed
only to increase, pressed ever more closely upon them.
Lawrence had just brought the butt of his rifle down with a rattling
thud upon what he hoped was a Mongol skull, when the weapon was seized,
and he felt himself jerked forward. He clung to the barrel tenaciously,
but in trying to hold his own in this tug-of-war he lost his footing,
let go the rifle perforce, and found himself rolling, or rather jolting,
down the bank. Grasping at the sharp knobs of rock, he checked his fall
before he came to the water's edge, and lay for an instant to collect
himself. It was perhaps a minute since the tussle had begun.
Hitherto the enemy had preserved a remarkable silence. The two Pathans,
on the other hand, had raised lusty shouts, calling to their companions
by name. Roused by the shots, and urged on by their comrades' cries,
the Pathans behind the rocks some little distance up-stream came
bounding to the rescue. Lawrence heard scrambling footsteps above him;
he was kicked in the side by a man coming hastily down the bank, and the
sound of splashes near at hand seemed to show that the enemy, in full
retreat, were plunging into the river. Their surprise having failed,
they had lost heart. Climbing the bank on all fours, Lawrence found his
whole party assembled above. Just as he reached them, the newcomers
opened fire upon several figures which they saw swinging themselves over
by the rope. At the first shot these men halted, turned, and began
frantically to work themselves back towards the farther side. Then Fyz
Ali sprang forward on to the tangled debris of the bridge, and with two
sweeping strokes of his knife cut the rope in twain. There was a mighty
splash, a howl of rage, and then silence.
"What orders, sahib?" said the Pathan. In the short, sharp, confused
struggle, the men were unaware of Lawrence's narrow escape, and were no
more concerned about him than about themselves. Every one of them bore
some mark of the conflict--bruise, abrasion, or knife-cut. Lawrence felt
bruised from top to toe. But in the dark no man could see his fellow's
wounds, and it would have been thought childish to talk of them.
"We had better stay here for the rest of the night," said Lawrence, in
reply to Fyz Ali's question. "You have quite done for the bridge, and
it's no use to anybody. But those badmashes got over some other way,
and they would do it again if we weren't here to stop them."
"That is true, sahib--if they like to put their fingers into the fire."
"How did they get across? They could hardly swim up against the
current."
"Mashallah! Who can say? But we shall know in the morning, sahib."
There was no more dozing that night. The whole party sat nursing their
rifles and chatting quietly. Lawrence got the men to relate some of the
experiences of their life, and though he could not understand very much
of what they said, he recognized that there was a rich mine of anecdote
to be drawn upon as soon as he had sufficient command of their language.
The remaining hours of darkness were undisturbed, and at dawn there was
no renewal of hostilities. The daylight gave a clue to the means by
which the enemy had crossed the river. At the foot of the rocks south of
the bridge, near Lawrence's rifle, lay several inflated water-skins. Fyz
Ali guessed that the men had crept along the opposite bank to some
distance above the bridge, then taken the water, and supporting
themselves on the skins, had steered themselves over.