distance away. As he spoke, bullets began to whistle around, and two of
his men were hit. Quickly the gun was turned round. Ganda Singh
discovered that it was already loaded, and in another few seconds a
shell sang on its deadly flight towards the enemy. They fled, to be
pursued by another shell as soon as Ganda Singh could reload; and with
this second shot the track was cleared for half a mile down stream. And
then the aeroplane came whirring past overhead.
As he watched it, Bob became aware that the afternoon was drawing
towards evening. In an hour the valley would be gloomy, in two hours it
would be shrouded in darkness. For the present, while daylight lasted,
there was little fear of the enemy attacking. They would not face their
own gun backed by the machine gun of the garrison. But he felt that
with the fall of night the circumstances would be changed. His feeble
searchlight scarcely illuminated the space between the bridge and the
bend; beyond the bend it gave no light whatever. In the darkness the
enemy might creep up to within a short distance of their captured
breastwork and carry it with a determined rush, in spite of the gun. It
was true that the narrowness of the track would allow the approach of
only a few men abreast; but they could be supported by a constant
succession of reinforcements, coming up like waves of the sea until the
defenders were worn out. It seemed to Bob the prudent course to
withdraw his men and the gun to the mine, and place the latter in
position beside the machine gun. However, it was bad tactics to abandon
a defensive position before retirement was absolutely necessary, so he
decided to remain where he was for a little while longer, in the hope
that Lawrence would land and, joining him, explain the actual condition
of affairs down stream.
About a quarter of an hour after the aeroplane had passed, Bob saw
Lawrence running down the track towards him.
"That's what I hoped you would do," were Lawrence's first words as they
met. "Capture the guns, I mean."
"Yes, we've got one: the other's ruined and in the river. But we've had
a narrow escape from being battered to pieces. Why didn't you begin
bombing before?"
"I'll tell you. We were pretty well peppered, as you saw, when we flew
past here down stream. It may have been because that bothered us, and
Fazl was hit--I didn't know it at the time--that we didn't see the guns
they had dragged up. Or perhaps it was because they are so like the
rocks in colour--and we didn't expect they'd be here already. Anyway,
we didn't see them, and it makes me mad to think what a squeak you've
had. I _ought_ to have seen them."
"That's bosh! it's precious difficult to see anything at that speed.
But go on."
"We saw the men, of course, but we were soon out of range. The planes
are simply riddled."
"Fazl not much hurt, I hope?"
"No: the bullet went through the fleshy part of his arm, and he didn't
say a word about it till we landed just now. On our way down we saw
several teams of ponies at different parts of the track, bringing grub
up, no doubt; and several bodies of mounted troops on the march; but
never a sign of the guns. I flew on till we came to the place where the
Major and I saw them: then thinking I must have missed them, I turned
back. You may imagine how I felt when, about two miles away, I suppose,
I heard the first shot. It's so different from the sound of the machine
gun that I couldn't mistake it. I told Fazl to get ready to drop a bomb
as soon as we came up to the guns. He did so, but I didn't hear an
explosion. He yelled out that it had fallen into the river, but of
course we were past before there was time to shy another. I came back
as quickly as I could, and my heart was in my mouth when I saw smoke in
the compound. Luckily Fazl's next shots were better, and jolly glad I
am that we managed to stampede the fellows and give you a chance."
"You were just in time, old man. They did more damage to the cliff than
to us, though."
"Yes: the path is simply heaped with rubbish. Coming back it was like
scrambling over shingle. But a few hours' work will clear the lot away.
Now what's the next thing?"
"As it's getting dusk I propose to withdraw the gun to the mine. But we
must hold this breastwork as long as we can, and it occurs to me that if
we alter its angle a little we can enfilade it from our own breastwork
when it becomes necessary to fall back on that. It will still protect
us from attack down stream, owing to the bend."
"Isn't it worth while to block up the track again?"
"It would use up too much dynamite. Our stock is getting appallingly
low. We may want it all for bombs. Besides, if we block up the track
farther down we shan't see our enemy."
"But I can always scout in the aeroplane."
"You forget that our petrol isn't unlimited. I had a look in the shed
this morning, and there isn't much left. The paraffin you brought only
replaced what you lost from the leaky cans. We shall have to economize
now, and use the aeroplane only when we must."
"Very well then. If you see about altering the breastwork I'll get the
gun dragged in. And there are these poor wounded wretches. Their moans
are horrible. What can we do for them?"
"We mustn't take them into our compound. We haven't food enough to
support prisoners. I have it! We'll send off the Kalmuck prisoners
we've got, and tell them that they can bring up a dozen of their friends
under flag of truce to carry off their wounded. That'll relieve us of
all responsibility. And now let's get to business. We haven't too much
time."
These arrangements were duly carried out. While Lawrence escorted the
gun to the mine, Bob set the men to pull down the breastwork, and
re-construct it so that it stood almost perpendicular to his own
entrenchment a hundred yards up stream. In its new position it would be
of very little use to the enemy should they re-capture it, for on
whichever side of it they happened to be, they would be swept by the
fire of the men posted at the other.
By the time the work was completed darkness had fallen. Then Lawrence
dismissed the Kalmuck prisoners as he had suggested, and followed them
to the breastwork to have a final consultation with his brother.
"I'll hold on here until midnight," said Bob. "I had a good sleep during
the day. Tell Ganda Singh to train the captured gun on the bend; if
there's an attack he and Gur Buksh can play on the track and cover our
retirement."
"I'm not sure whether it wouldn't be better to bring it out again and
place it behind our entrenchments."
"No, that would never do. The searchlight isn't powerful enough to be
of much good; and the position might be rushed before the gun could come
into play. It's too valuable for us to risk that. It would be a very
different matter if we had enough men to hold the breastwork and really
dispute the advance of the enemy. We can't do that. If they seriously
push their attack we shall have to evacuate the position and bolt for
the mine, and the gun would only be a hindrance. Now you get back.
Send over some food for us, and then go to bed."
"I shan't take my clothes off. Don't hold on too long, Bob, if they do
come up."
"Don't be nervous, young 'un. We've had uncommon good luck so far, and
I'm inclined to think the enemy won't be in a hurry to tackle us. Those
bombs must have been a horrid surprise to them. We may congratulate
ourselves on a good day for the first, anyhow."
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FOURTH
A CHECK
The night passed undisturbed. Bob was almost sorry. As the slow hours
crept towards midnight, when Lawrence would relieve him, he would have
welcomed an opportunity for action. It was bitter cold. He dared not
kindle a watch-fire, and so enlighten the enemy about his arrangements.
Remembering Lawrence's similar vigil forty miles down, he said to
himself: "The kid's a good plucked one. He'd have made a first-rate
soldier, or political officer, or anything. Pity we're both so hard
up!"
Suddenly he bethought himself of the mass of ore which had been tumbled
into the cavity in the bank just above the Pathan miners' compound. It
must weigh many tons, and according to Mr. Appleton's calculations,
sixty per cent. of it was pure silver. Bob did not know the market
price of the metal, but the quantity that had been mined must represent
a considerable sum of money. The exciting incidents of the last few
days had kept his thoughts engrossed with strategy and tactics; and the
notion that the mine was itself a valuable property, worth defending for
its own sake, came almost with a shock of surprise.
"Who is the owner now?" he thought. "Did Uncle leave a will? I suppose
we are his heirs, but what's the law of inheritance in these parts?"
And then the recollection of his uncle's recent death caused a revulsion
of feeling. It was quite unreasonable to shrink from the thought of
benefiting by Mr. Appleton's decease; but affection and high-minded
instinct sometimes get the better of reason, and he dismissed the
subject, still with a vague hope that his uncle would even yet return to
his own.
At midnight Lawrence came with a squad of men to relieve him.
"All's well then?" he said.
"Yes; I haven't heard a murmur."
"Well, cut off and get a sleep. I'm good for a spell till daylight.
Shan Tai has given me a splendid feed. We're lucky in our men, Bob. As
I was eating I overheard Shan Tai talking with Chunda Beg. 'What you
tinkee?' says Shan Tai. They'd evidently been discussing the situation.
'I say not one of the dogs will ever poke his nose within our walls,'
said the khansaman. 'When the huzur told me that two boys were coming
to live here I was sick in mind. Some of the Feringhi boys call us
niggers, and speak to us as if we were mud. Our sahibs are not so.
They do not sniff and curse and use us as if we were beasts and not men.
What say you, cook man?' 'Say what you say allo lighto,' says Shan Tai.
'Likee young massa plenty muchee. Big lot fightee men come all-same.
No can fightee big lot long time.' 'Wah!' says Chunda. 'The two sahibs
are worth thousands of those dogs of Kalmucks, and if Allah keeps them
alive we shall smite and smite until the Sirkar sends help. Only give
them good food, cook man.' 'Makee chow-chow first-chop,' says Shan Tai,
and the old chap gave a chuckle. He's a jolly good sort."
Lawrence had said that they were lucky in their men; it did not occur to
him that the fragment of conversation he reported showed rather that the
men thought themselves lucky in their masters.
The day broke, and still the enemy had made no movement. As soon as it
was light Bob had the field gun dragged over the bridge to the
breastwork. Lawrence reported that the enemy had begun to erect a new
rampart some distance down the track.
"They surely don't imagine that we're going to take the offensive," he
said.
"No. It probably means that they'll snipe at us from behind it. Go and
get your breakfast and come back as soon as you can."
Bob considered whether to interfere with the enemy's work, but decided
that he had better husband his ammunition. Some two hours later, after
Lawrence's return, the enemy began firing across their new breastwork.
At the same time a number of them were seen skirmishing along the track,
making short rushes from rock to rock. The track itself was only thirty
or forty feet wide, straight and comparatively smooth. But the cliff
face was very rugged, affording a certain amount of cover. Skirmishing
from point to point, where the cliff jutted out or receded, or where
single fragments of rock had fallen to the side of the track, the enemy
advanced under cover of the fire from their breastwork until they had
come about halfway to the position of the defenders. Some scrambled up
the cliff here and there for a few yards so as to obtain a better view
of the men sheltered by the entrenchment. Bob refused to allow his men
to make a general reply to their fire. He knew that they could not
approach beyond a certain point, the track being open and the amount of
cover diminishing as they drew nearer. Now and then, when one of them
advanced too far ahead of his fellows, he permitted the best marksman to
try his skill, and two or three of the enemy were hit. One of his own
men also, incautiously exposing himself, fell back with a gash in his
arm. Except for this, the day passed without casualties, and the
relative positions of the two parties were the same.
The garrison were greatly delighted that the end of the second day found
the situation unaltered. Only five days of the critical week remained,
and some of them already saw themselves at the end of their probation.
Bob hinted that they were not yet out of the wood, but he was glad
enough to see how high-spirited and confident they were. For his own
part, he relaxed nothing of his care and vigilance. He was still on his
guard against a night attack, and as an extra precaution, he sent two of
the Sikhs to creep in the darkness along the track between the enemy's
breastwork and his own, to give instant warning if they should see or
hear any signs of movement.
But the peace of the night remained unbroken. During the early part of
the next day, even, there was no sniping or skirmishing as before. Bob
augured ill of this inactivity. He would have been more at ease if the
enemy had pursued their ineffective tactics, and would indeed have
welcomed a rush, which he felt himself able to repel. He could not but
believe that they were gathering their strength, perhaps waiting for the
support of more artillery, and he had an instinctive dread that the next
assault would be a much more formidable affair.
Soon after noon his prescience was rudely justified. Suddenly, without
any warning, two guns opened fire from the enemy's breastwork. Lawrence
at once offered to set off in the aeroplane and repeat his work with the
bombs; but Bob would not allow it, partly because of the scarcity of
petrol and dynamite, partly from a fear that the enemy, now better
prepared, would have detailed a certain number specially to aim at the
aeroplane in flight. The airmen might not escape a second time with a
slight flesh wound.
The fight resolved itself into a short artillery duel. The enemy's
first shell flew high, striking the cliff above the cantilever gangway,
and bespattering the sheds and the compounds with fragments of rock.
Ganda Singh proved a better marksman. He planted a shell on the enemy's
breastwork between the two guns; splinters of rock flew all around, and
for a time there was no more firing. Presently, however, it was
resumed, apparently from one gun only, and Bob hoped that the other had
been put out of action. But in a few minutes both the weapons were at
work, and the gunners' practice improved. Two or three shells struck the
garrison's barricade, and though no breach was made, part of the parapet
was blown away, and splintered rock flew in all directions, dealing
severe wounds among the men behind. Ganda Singh worked his gun with
imperturbable calm, and Gur Buksh from the compound sent a rain of
bullets from the machine gun along the track. Bob saw, however, that he
would soon be forced to withdraw the field gun for lack of ammunition.
He had only captured twenty rounds with it, and after half these had
been expended, with much damage to the enemy's breastwork, he decided
that he must reserve the rest for use in the compound, when the enemy
should attempt to force a passage round the bend.
Signalling therefore to Gur Buksh to keep up a hot fire, he ordered four
of the men to run the field gun back to the mine. The rest he withdrew
a few yards from the breastwork, posting them close against the cliff
out of the direct course of the enemy's shells, which were now working
havoc on his rough defences. But finding it impossible there to observe
what the enemy were doing, he ordered two men to run back to the
breastwork, lie down until the guns had fired, and then spring up and
observe the enemy's movements through the gaps. They soon reported that
skirmishers were again cautiously advancing along the track. Presently
the bombardment redoubled in vigour, and immediately afterwards the
scouts cried out that a large body of the enemy was charging. The guns
ceased fire; at the short range the trajectory was so flat that the
gunners could scarcely aim at the breastwork without hitting their own
men.
"Now, boys!" cried Bob, unconsciously addressing them as if they were
Tommies, "after me!"
He led them back to their former position. They spread out along the
breastwork and opened fire. Bob saw a mass of two or three hundred
Kalmucks streaming without any sort of order along the track, while the
skirmishers who had occupied the rocks above were firing as fast as they
could load.
"Take your time!" he cried. "There's no need to hurry."
The first volleys were nevertheless somewhat ragged. The nerves of the
Pathans, unaccustomed to the shattering effect of high explosive shells
bursting within a few yards of them, were shaken; only Ganda Singh and
the three other Sikhs he had with him were calm as disciplined soldiers
ought to be. It was their rifles that took toll of the advancing enemy.
Several of these dropped; the rest came on yelling fiercely. Bob ordered
his men to fire independently. The steadiness of the Sikhs had its
effect on the Pathans, who rested their rifles in holes and crevices of
the breastwork and took deliberate aim.
The head of the charging column was now within two hundred yards. In
spite of increasing losses they still dashed on, and crowds of their
countrymen were swarming over the breastwork behind them. Nearer and
nearer they drew, but their ranks were thinning fast. When they were
about a hundred yards from Bob's entrenchment their leaders wavered. At
this many of the men halted, in irresolution; only a few of the bolder
spirits, worked up to a pitch of frenzy, pressed on until but fifty
yards separated them from their goal. These never returned.
With startling suddenness panic seized those who had faltered. Yelling
with rage and despair they turned about and scurried like rabbits to the
shelter of their breastwork, pursued by a dropping fire. When the
survivors had got more than halfway back, their further retreat was
covered by the field guns, and Bob again withdrew his men a little to
the rear, well content with his successful stand.
There was no further attack that day. The men were jubilant. When Bob,
on being relieved by Lawrence, returned to the mine, he was met at the
end of the bridge by Ditta Lal. The Babu's aspect was even more than
usually bland.
"I offer fulsome congratulations on sparkling victory, sir," he said.
"Perchance you heard the universal shout that burst stentorian from
drouthy throats."
"Is that your own?" asked Bob, interrupting.
"My own, sir?" The Babu was puzzled. "I fear I do not fully apprehend
meaning of question."
"Why, it sounded like blank verse, and I wondered whether you yourself
had been dropping into poetry."
"Delighted, sir," said the Babu with a smile and a bow. "I didn't twig
my frail thoughts had run into metric mould. It was unpremeditated art.
I am up to snuff now, sir. 'That burst stentorian from drouthy
throats'--'pon my dicky, sir, phrase has tone, ring, sonorous rotundity
that many professed poetasters would give boots for. However and
notwithstanding, long and short of it is I am self-appointed spokesman
for all and sundry in offering abject felicitations on auspicious
event."
"Thanks, I'm sure."
They were walking side by side to the house.
"Now, dear sir," the Babu resumed, "when I was at Calcutta
University--of which, as you are aware, I have honour and glory to be
B.A.--I was wont to shed my light of countenance on football matches,
watched young barbarians toe flying sphere. After certain amount of
rough and tumble, at blast of whistle all performance ceased for brief
interval, during which muddy oafs ingurgitated juice of lemons and all
that."
"What are you driving at?" asked Bob in bewilderment.
"Why, sir, that interludium, denominated half-time, has parallel here
and now. We are at half-time in this fateful strife. Three days and
half of allotted span have expired; and I make bold to suggestion that,
for refreshment and buck-up of general company, you issue orders for
tamasha."
"What's that?"
"Tamasha, sir, is jollification, kick-up, regular beano--song and dance,
et cetera. With your permission, I will undertake herculean labour of
organization."
"My good man, you know our proverbs: 'Don't hallo till you're out of the
wood'--'Don't count your chickens before they are hatched.' It's true
the men have done very well so far, but the stiffest fight often comes
in the second half, you know. Possess your soul in patience, Babu. If
we come through safely I promise you shall have your tamasha, or
whatever you call it, and I tell you what: as you seem to be a bit of a
poet, why not spend your time in writing a ballad or something of the
sort in anticipation?"
"Happy thought, sir. I have not hitherto built rhyme, lofty or
otherwise, but I will do my level best to rise to height of great
argument; I will set my eye in fine frenzy rolling, and body forth forms
of things unknown at present, but justified by event. I will strike my
lyre while it is hot. Good-night, sir, and sweet repose."
He waddled off, bent on a passionate quest for inspiration. Bob looked
after him with a tolerant smile.
"Poor chap!" he thought. "Much learning has made him pretty mad. I
wonder if we Britishers, when we pick up a smattering of their lore,
strike the Hindus in the same way? I only hope his paean _will_ be
justified by the event."
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIFTH
THE FIGHT AT THE BEND
At early morning, after a quiet night, Lawrence sent one of the men back
to announce the approach of a flag of truce. Bob hurried at once to the
breastwork. Three Kalmucks were advancing along the track, one of them
apparently an officer. No others of the enemy were in sight. The envoys
halted within a short distance of the entrenchment, and the officer
began to speak in a loud shrill voice.
"What does he say?" asked Bob.
"I can't make it out," replied Lawrence. "Do any of you men understand
him?"
The men, Sikhs and Pathans, acknowledged that they did not, whereupon
Bob made signs to the Kalmuck to wait, and despatched a man to fetch
Shan Tai, who as a western Chinaman might be able to act as interpreter.
When the cook arrived, and heard what was required of him, he shouted a
few words to the officer, who responded with a speech of some length,
very rapidly uttered. The purport of it was to propose terms. He
offered the garrison the honours of war if they would surrender the mine
and make no further opposition to the passage of the army up the valley.
They would be allowed to depart unmolested, with bag and baggage; and
the two white men, if they pleased, might return to their own country by
way of Central Asia, through the Kalmuck lines.
Bob's reply was made without hesitation. He pointed out that the
Kalmucks were the aggressors. Hostilities had not been of his seeking.
All that he had desired was to live at peace and pursue his occupation
as miner, whereby he gave employment to several score of workmen,
including many of the officer's fellow-countrymen.
"We have been wantonly attacked," he said, "without warning and without
provocation, and we are resolved to defend the property of the late
owner of the mine, who was murdered by a man acting apparently in
collusion with the force to which you belong. I reject your terms. But
in order to avoid further bloodshed, I am willing to refer the matter to
the Sirkar, and will abide by the decision of the Viceroy of the Emperor
of India."
The officer had evidently come prepared for a refusal, for he at once
put forward a modified proposal. He offered to leave the Englishman
undisturbed at the mine if he on his side would refrain from attacking
the army as it marched past. Bob saw the dilemma in which he was
placed. The question was no longer a personal but an imperial one.
Rejection of the offer would imply that he stood as an outpost of the
Empire. But his answer was equally clear and emphatic. He declined to
make terms of any kind with the enemy. The Kalmuck returned to his own
lines, manifestly chagrined at the failure of his mission.