party sat on the ground, with their rifles across their knees, to what
was a sumptuous feast after their recent privations. When they had
finished the meal, the two wounded men were carried by their comrades to
the aeroplane. Fazl quietly obeyed Lawrence's order to give up his
seat, though he was clearly disappointed; and the two passengers having
been securely strapped in, Bob started, with a cheery "So long!" to the
Major.
"Hai, sahib!" said one of the men, who were overawed by these strange
proceedings: "that is a terrible thing."
"A godsend to us," said the Major. He then explained to them his
purpose. One of them brought his horse from the tower, and ten minutes
after Lawrence's departure the little party started, the three sowars
having strapped on their backs the water-skins and the baskets, with
what was left of the provisions. They made their way down the ravine,
to avoid observation from any of the Afghans who might be still lurking
in the neighbourhood, the Major's intention being to strike across
country to the river as soon as they were out of sight of the
surroundings of the tower.
Lawrence's mind was so busily occupied with this latest turn of
Fortune's wheel that he forgot, on his flight back to the mine, to keep
a look-out for the Kalmucks. He would scarcely have seen them, for they
heard the hum of the machine from a considerable distance, and, mindful
of former happenings, they concealed themselves behind rocks or among
bushes without making any attempt to check its flight with their rifles.
About ten miles from the mine Lawrence had a momentary fright. The
engine, which had worked with perfect accuracy ever since the first
experiments, now suddenly missed fire. Before he had time to think of
what he should do if it failed, however, it recovered itself, and gave
him no further anxiety. On coming within sight of the platform, he saw
with relief that Bob was there to meet him; it was clear that all was
well at present. When he alighted he explained the situation of Major
Endicott in a few rapid sentences. Bob walked a few yards along the
pathway, round the curve, and hallooed to Gur Buksh to send some of the
men to him. These carried the wounded sowars to the compound, and
presently returned with more baskets of food, which Bob had ordered to
be prepared for the Major's party on the march.
"I say, Bob," said Lawrence during the men's absence, "there was a
miss-fire a few miles back."
"Whew! it's beginning to play tricks then. We've been very lucky so far.
Need you go back?"
"Oh yes! I told the Major I'd return to cover his march."
"Let me have a look at it."
He opened up the engine, examined all its parts, started it.
"It seems to be working all right. I don't see any grit; if there was
any it's been got rid of. If it should happen again you had better plane
down and wait till the Major reaches you; but I don't think you'll have
any trouble."
As Lawrence got into his place, he recollected the bombs that lay
beneath the seat that Fazl had occupied.
"Shift those, Bob, will you?" he said. "It will be rather awkward
without Fazl if I have to use them. Put them as closely within reach as
you can. I shall have to steer with one hand and drop them with the
other."
"Probably you won't have to use them at all. The Major and four men will
be more than a match for those Kalmuck fellows, who must be getting
famished by this time."
"The Afghans may be in pursuit, though."
"But the mere sight of the aeroplane might be enough for them after what
has happened. Still, it's just as well to be prepared. Bluffing
sometimes doesn't come off, and the aeroplane is useless for offensive
action without the bombs. If you do find the Major fighting a rear-guard
action don't be too tender. Strike hard if you strike at all."
"Well, I'll do what I must. Don't expect us before to-morrow night at
the earliest. I shall have to come down at times, or the petrol won't
last out; and when the Major is within a few miles I'll fly back ahead
of him if all's safe. So long!"
Bob watched him out of sight. He felt a little anxious; he would have
been alarmed had he known that within five miles of the mine the engine
began to give trouble again. Lawrence was in two minds whether to
return and have it thoroughly overhauled, or to continue on his course.
But he felt that delay might be serious to the Major, and, as before,
the engine might soon right itself. He kept straight on. His hopes
were flattered when, after a minute or two of fitful explosions, the
engine worked normally again.
But he had only flown about half-way to the tower, as he guessed, when
the trouble recommenced. Hoping against hope, he continued his flight
for a minute or so, until he became convinced that the engine was on the
point of breaking down utterly. He had been preparing himself for the
possibility, but found himself in a serious difficulty now that the
problem actually faced him. The valley at the point which he had
reached was broader than at the mine, and not so rocky or broken up as
it was in many other parts. But it offered few spots where even the
most intrepid and experienced airman would care to risk a descent. The
banks of the river were covered with thick scrub and bushes; here and
there on the hill-side there were patches of brushwood and small clumps
of trees; everywhere the ground was broken. But it was no time for
picking and choosing. If he had not begun to plane down by the time the
engine finally failed, the chances were that he would be smashed to
pieces.
Casting an anxious look on the ground, he decided to make for an open
space between two belts of woodland. He could not tell whether it was
as level as it seemed; all that he was sure of was that it allowed room
for alighting and was free from considerable obstructions.
The problem of descent had so fully occupied him that not until he had
actually begun the vol plane did he remember with a thrill of
consternation the dynamite bombs at his feet. For a moment his brain
seemed paralysed; then, as he realized the full measure of his peril, he
braced himself to deal with it. If the ground proved to be less smooth
than it seemed, the shock of alighting might well be severe enough to
explode the dynamite. Then, instead of a broken chassis or a wrenched
stay, and a few bruises--the slight mishaps that had befallen many an
airman--the result would be the complete shattering of the aeroplane and
himself. The only way of safety was to jettison the bombs, and he
instantly stooped to pick them up one by one and cast them over the
side. There followed a series of detonations like pistol-shots much
magnified, each louder than the one before. The bombs fell behind the
aeroplane as it descended in a gliding swoop, and Lawrence was now beset
by a new anxiety: whether, maintaining his control of the machine, he
could get rid of the bombs fast enough to escape risk of damage by the
explosions as he neared the ground. There would have been little or no
danger if he had been flying at speed; but his downward course being at
a rather large angle, the closer he came to the ground, the nearer he
would be to the scene of the last explosion.
A spectator would have had a poor opinion of the airmanship of the pilot
whose machine was descending so unsteadily. To control planes,
elevator, and rudder; to keep an eye on the ground; and at the same time
to cast the bombs overboard: all these simultaneous tasks put a severe
strain upon his nerve, agility, and judgment. He got rid of the last
bomb within about thirty feet of the ground, and immediately shifted the
elevator to avoid a too sudden landing. It was fortunate that he
checked the descent when he did; but he was too near the ground to
escape altogether. The force of the explosion set the aeroplane rocking
as in a gale of wind. He was enveloped in a cloud of smoke and dust and
fragments of rock. For a moment or two he lost control of the machine,
and instead of alighting evenly, one side hit the ground first, and it
toppled over. Lawrence was flung out. As he rose dizzily to his feet,
he thought himself lucky to have escaped with a few bruises and a pain
in his left ankle, which had apparently been turned over as he fell.
When he regained his scattered wits he limped to the aeroplane, and
looked at it ruefully. At first sight it appeared to be wrecked, but on
examining it more closely he was relieved to find that the damage was
such as could be repaired with a little care. The left side of the
chassis was twisted; some of the stays were broken, and the left-hand
plane was badly ripped.
"A narrow squeak," he said to himself. "And now what on earth is to be
done?"
He sat down and felt his sprained ankle. It was very tender to the
touch, and he realized that he could not set off on foot to meet the
Major, but must remain until he arrived. At a guess he had come about
twenty-five miles from the mine. The Major could not be nearer than ten
miles. He could not expect to see him for three hours at least. The
whole prospect was gloomy. The aeroplane could only be repaired at the
mine, and it was quite impossible for the three sowars and Fazl to
transport it over twenty-five miles of a narrow and difficult track. It
seemed as if the machine must be left where it lay until men could be
fetched from the mine to take it to pieces, and that would need Bob's
superintendence. The proposed flight to the British post was out of the
question, and he knew the Major well enough to be sure that he would
revert to his original intention of making the journey on horseback,
alone. Altogether it was a desperately vexatious plight.
And then he remembered the Kalmucks, whom for the time he had forgotten.
He had seen nothing of them either going or coming, but unless they had
struck across the hills, which was unlikely, they must be very near to
where he now was. They could not fail to have heard the successive
explosions of the bombs, so that they would be on the alert. They might
have seen the descent of the aeroplane from their lurking places among
the rocks, and if they should guess that he had come to grief, they
would have him at their mercy. As soon as his thoughts took this
direction Lawrence got up and unstrapped his rifle from the aeroplane.
He took his revolver from his pocket; it was uninjured. Then lifting
his field-glass he swept the surrounding country for signs of the enemy.
He had to admit to himself that his position could scarcely be worse.
The spot on which he had landed was fairly open, but it was surrounded
by broken ground that would give ample cover to an enemy. On two sides,
up- and down-stream, the clumps of woodland approached to within a
hundred yards. Below him, not far away, was the river, lined on both
banks with a thick fringe of brushwood and rushes. Above, the hill rose
gently for a great distance, but it was very rugged, broken by contorted
fissures, through some of which rivulets zigzagged swiftly down to the
river. He swept the country again and again with his glass, and took
some comfort from the absence of any sign of man; but there were so many
places where the Kalmucks might be in hiding that he thought it wise to
seek some secluded spot himself, where he would be better able than on
the open ground to guard against surprise.
He rose and limped up the slope of the hill. After a little search, he
discovered a hollow about forty yards above the aeroplane, from which he
could take a bird's-eye view of the ground, and where he had a certain
amount of shelter. Thither he carried his rifle, a basket of food and a
flask of water, and lay down to wait with what patience he might for the
coming of Major Endicott.
It was now midday, and the sun was very hot. For some time he kept a
sharp look-out, examining the country every few minutes through his
field-glass, and creeping from side to side of the hollow so as to
extend and change his view. Presently, however, the great heat and his
failure to discover any trace of the enemy caused him to relax his
vigilance. He was very tired; whenever he moved, his ankle gave him
much pain; and, as at the bridge during his night watch, an oppressive
drowsiness stole upon him, which he found it impossible to shake off.
He would nod, recover himself, vow that it should not happen again, and
in another minute his head would fall forward, and he opened his eyes
bedazed and scarcely realizing where he was. Then once more he raised
the glass to his eyes, and gazed around almost mechanically, only to go
through the same series of nods and starts again.
Recovering himself after a more prolonged fit of dozing, he rubbed his
eyes, pinched himself, and threw a glance around. His sluggish
faculties were quickened by the sight of something moving in the thin
brushwood at the edge of the northern clump. He quickly lifted his
glass and directed it at the spot, but saw nothing suspicious, and
supposed that either he had been mistaken, or that the moving object had
been some animal which he need not trouble about. But the momentary
suspicion banished his drowsiness; now wide awake, he sat with his back
against the rock, fixing his eyes on the scene in front of him.
Presently he started. Beyond doubt a figure had run from tree to tree
on the hill-side to the right, a little above him. By the time he had
levelled his glass on the spot the figure had disappeared. He reached
for his rifle, and crouched low in the hollow, peering over its edge.
Next moment his attention was again caught by a movement in the clump of
wood where he had first noticed it. This time he could see, even with
the naked eye, the form of a man bending low. Almost immediately
afterwards another half-perceived movement caused him to look towards a
spot midway between the wood and the place on the hill-side where he had
seen the first form. The top of a skin hat was projecting above a knob
of rock there.
"Stalking, by George!" he said to himself.
His first instinct was to seize his rifle; his second to look around for
some way of escape. It was possible that the Kalmucks had not yet
discovered him, though the aeroplane was full in their view; and if he
could only creep among the shrubs into some deep fissure he might yet
elude them. He might even make a dash for it, gain the clump of trees
to the south, and push on to meet Major Endicott. The enemy would
probably waste some time in searching for him--enough to give him a good
start. But he saw at a glance that he could not reach the trees without
crossing the open ground in sight of the enemy, and partially crippled
as he was he could not hope to outstrip them, even if they did not use
in the pursuit the horses which they had had when they slipped past the
mine. His only course was to stay where he was, hoping with good luck to
remain undiscovered. In the last resort he could do some execution
among them with his weapons, though the odds of numbers against him
precluded any idea of his being able to keep them off permanently.
At that moment he was more concerned about the fate of the aeroplane
than about his own. It would be of no use to the enemy; they would
probably destroy it, and that prospect enraged him. For the first time
he felt a real desire to fight and slay, and wondered whether, when the
enemy came into the open, he might not pick them off one by one. After
all, he thought, his position in the hollow gave him some advantage.
They could not take good aim at him, whereas if they attempted to rush
him across the open space, he could mark them down almost at his
leisure.
His reflections were suddenly cut short by a rifle-shot. A bullet
struck the ground unpleasantly near him, and sent up a spurt of earth,
some of which struck him. He crouched still lower in the hollow.
Escape was now out of the question: he must simply wait and take what
opening of defending himself offered.
The shot had been fired from the clump of wood. Immediately afterwards
the man on the hill-side stood erect in the attitude of taking aim.
Lawrence hastily levelled his rifle and took a rough shot at him, with
what effect he could not tell, for his attention was at once called off
by a rush of the man in the wood, who dashed forward over several yards
towards a patch of bush nearer to the hollow. Lawrence felt that his
position was even worse than he had supposed. The enemy had scattered
with a definite plan. They meant to work their way gradually towards
him under cover, distracting him by firing in turn, until they thought
it possible to overwhelm him with a final rush from several sides. He
wished he had acted on his first impulse to sprint towards the wood on
the south. Was it possible even now to do it? A sudden twinge in his
ankle gave him the answer. They had him in a trap.
[Illustration: THE KALMUCKS MAKE A PRISONER]
And then he saw something flickering by a tree up the hill-side. It
seemed to be a piece of cloth. Was it a flag of truce? While he was
watching it there was a patter of feet behind him. Three men had risen
as it were out of the earth southwards of the hollow. Before he could
rise they flung themselves upon him. He was dashed to the ground. He
made desperate efforts to free himself, writhing, kicking, trying to
free one of his hands to use his revolver. But they pinned him down: one
snatched his revolver from him, the others held him firmly by the neck
and feet, and when his hopeless struggles ceased they whipped off their
leather girdles and tied him up so that he was unable to move. Then
they turned him on his back, uttering guttural grunts of satisfaction,
and he looked up into the malicious faces of Nurla Bai and Black Jack.
CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH
A FRIEND IN NEED
Even a philosopher, we know, cannot bear the toothache patiently. Every
one has at one time or another recognized in himself the unphilosophic
tendency to feel irritation at some trivial thing--a speck of mud on
one's clean collar, a hair in one's soup. We have all been much more
deeply annoyed by a slight blemish or mishap than troubled at a really
grave misfortune.
The plight in which Lawrence now found himself was serious enough to
justify an access of rage or despair. But it was not his capture or his
bonds that inflicted the severest pang upon his self-esteem. It was the
sight of Nurla Bai and his dwarfish henchman making free with the
sardine sandwiches which Shan Tai had put up for his especial
delectation.
When they had bound him, the three Kalmucks glanced around, spied the
basket a few feet away, and rushed at it with cries of delight.
Lawrence looked on in disgust as they wolfed the eatables--too delicate
for their untutored palates, too unsubstantial to appease their ravenous
appetite. He felt a thrill of joy when, on the remainder of the party
coming up, until there were nine altogether, the new arrivals clamoured
for a share, and began to push and snatch just as he had seen a flock of
greedy sparrows pecking at one another over a single crust. But though
these thieves were falling out, there was no chance of the honest man
coming by his own.
The contents of the basket soon disappeared, and the men looked round
wolfishly for more. At sight of the aeroplane hope flashed upon them,
and with one consent they ran to realize it. Lawrence could no longer
see them over the edge of the hollow, but he heard their shouts of glee,
the creaking of basket lids, and then the steady smacking of eighteen
busy lips as they fell upon the viands provided for Major Endicott and
his men. He was very angry. He felt not a touch of sympathy for them
in their famishment. To him they were merely gluttons, not starving
fellow-creatures.
During their absence he tried to wriggle out of his bonds, but the work
had been well done, and he lay still, wondering what was to become of
him. They had not killed him: he was suddenly aware of that agreeable
fact, though his pleasure in it was damped when he foresaw a possible
long captivity. While they gulped and gloated his thoughts ran round a
ring. Would they carry him on with them, going southward? Then they
would meet Major Endicott, and there would be a fight. If they,
fortified by his own food, should get the upper hand, he would still be
their helpless prisoner. If they were beaten, it would be consistent
with Nurla Bai's ferocious temper to kill him before taking to flight.
Either way, his case would be deplorable.
Presently the men came back to him, still munching and smacking their
lips. A villainous crew they looked. Besides Nurla Bai and Black Jack,
there were two other miners; the rest, differently and more martially
clad, were evidently part of the advancing force. They sat down at the
edge of the hollow, chewing the cud of excellent victuals and of sweet
exaltation of mind. Lawrence writhed as he realized how completely
these ruffians had outwitted him. The men in front of him a while ago
had been simply holding his attention, while the others crept upon him
from behind. It was humiliating--one more proof, he thought, that he
was certainly not cut out for a soldier.
At first the men did nothing but grunt, like pigs that have gorged
themselves. Their little eyes rested on their prisoner indolently, as
though he were an object of no importance. By and by they began to talk
to one another, and then to throw taunting and insolent remarks at him.
His knowledge of the niceties of abuse of which their tongue was capable
was limited, but he understood enough to make his blood boil. But he
discreetly held his peace: he would not flatter them by bandying abuse.
When they had thus enjoyed themselves for a while, Nurla Bai rose, and
planted himself within a few feet of Lawrence.
"What is the good of the great hummingbird now?" he said with a sneer.
"Those that hunt partridges ought not to make a noise."
It flashed upon Lawrence that the man supposed that the aeroplane had
been in pursuit of him. Evidently he was unaware that a party was
marching down the track towards the mine. It was just as well to
flatter his error. Lawrence made no reply.
"The little tins missed their mark," Nurla Bai went on. "Too much haste
spoils the hunt. The hawk has broken its wing, I perceive. Perhaps it
can be mended?"
Lawrence reflected that by telling the truth he might gain a little time
and save the aeroplane from destruction.
"Yes; it can be mended," he said, "but not here. The damage is slight,
but the machine is quite useless as it is."
The Kalmuck sat looking at him, apparently following out a train of
thought.
"How long might it take a man to learn how to use the wings?" he said at
length.
Lawrence caught the drift of the question.
"Perhaps six months, perhaps a year," he said. "It depends on the man."
Nurla Bai looked disappointed; clearly he had hoped to appropriate the
machine, get it mended, and then make instant use of it. He considered
for a little, and then said--
"The hunter is caught in his own toils. You are now as my servant, to
do whatsoever I command. It is a change. Give me the mine: I give you
the machine."
"That is foolishness. Bob Sahib will never give up the mine."
"We shall see," said the man with a leer. "When he beholds you in my
hands, and knows that if he refuses you will be shot, and the machine
broken up, I think he will be wise."
At this Lawrence saw a ray of hope in the situation. If they took him
back to the mine as a hostage, Major Endicott would discover the
abandoned aeroplane and push on with all speed. But he soon discovered
that his captors had no intention of abandoning the aeroplane. Nurla Bai
no doubt reckoned on the sight of it in his hands having a very potent
effect on the other sahib at the mine. After a consultation among
themselves, the men went into the wood, and began to fell some of the
smaller trees, and to lop branches from the larger. In a short time
they had collected a considerable quantity. They carried these down to
the river, and set about binding them into a raft with rushes and rods
of osier. When this was done, they hauled the aeroplane to it, placed
it in the middle, and proceeded to weave a long grass rope, which they
attached to the rear of the raft. Then one of the men, carrying a
straight sapling, mounted behind the aeroplane, and the whole
contrivance was pushed into the stream.