NEW ARRIVALS
The day after their talk, as soon as John Donovan had left the stone
chamber--Edith was careful to ascertain this by intensive listening
behind her silk partition--the girl hurried through her breakfast.
Then, moved by a long-considered impulse, she rifled the forbidden box
of its telescope. Putting on her _yashmak_ and concealing the fruit of
her theft under her cloak, she tripped out of the house, through the
courtyard and garden and up the slope that led to the pine forest.
Edith ascended the mountain side steadily until she reached the
shadow of the great trees. Here she pushed forward between rocks and
thorn patches to an open grove. Then she surveyed the trees with a
speculative frown. They veiled her view of the valley.
Lack of resourcefulness was not one of her failings. She selected a
sizable hemlock, with branches conveniently low to the ground, tucked
her skirt more firmly about her waist, and began to climb.
The sticky surface of the hemlock stained her fingers, and the loose
needles fell into her hair. She kept on until she reached a larger
branch, where, through an opening in the trees, a clear view down the
valley was afforded.
Edith breathed a sigh of satisfaction, and began to adjust the
telescope. A ray of sunlight flashed on the lens. This flicker of light
from the branches of the hemlock caught the eye of a man who lay hidden
in the tamarisk clumps a short way up the mountain side.
He was a broad, squat fellow in dirty woolen garb, a long musket slung
over his shoulder. From the shelter of the tamarisks he was keeping a
keen watch over the valley. The man had seen a movement in the hemlock,
but had attributed it to the flutter of birds. Now, however, he pushed
his gun further behind his back and began to crawl quietly downward,
passing from thorn patch to tamarisk clump and gliding across the
stretches of open grass.
The watcher had not far to go. He moved with the stealth of one
whose fear of observation held ascendancy over his desire to spy. A
heavy-footed, evil-faced native, evidently a Sart, and a Sart upon a
mission.
Owing to her interest in the panorama of the valley, Edith did not
notice him. The telescope was powerful, and she could discern plainly
the details of the hidden mosque. Its doors were closed at this early
hour; but she could see the crimson and blue coloring of the gate arch,
and certain robed figures moving on the balcony over the arch.
From this she turned the instrument down the lower valley. The gorge
was revealed to her, and she drew an excited breath at seeing the gray
tower perched on the cliff, rising over the steaming vapor that welled
from the hot springs in the stream winding down the ravine bottom.
The square, barren tower appeared as desolate as ever, at first. The
girl, however, had strong, young eyes and the telescope brought the
scene on the cliff summit close before her vision, even at the distance
of some three miles.
So she saw the small dots that came into view around the foot of
the tower. By gazing intently, she glimpsed horses and men. It was
impossible to make out the clothing of the men, yet Edith fancied that
they did not resemble those she had seen in Yakka Arik.
While the girl gazed, the Sart gained a vantage point where he could
see the hemlock. Straightway, after he had stared long at Edith, he
fell to scrutinizing the neighboring forest as if to make certain she
was alone.
Unconscious of another presence, Edith felt the surge of rising
excitement. Her sally to the mountain side had been inspired by the
hope of inspecting the mosque and its entrances without being seen by
the Sayaks.
The sight of men at the tower stirred her pulse. Instinct told her they
were not men of the valley. Had her father sent a search party as far
as the gorge? Was rescue at hand?
Europeans were at Kashgar--Donovan had admitted as much. Could not a
party from Srinagar, perhaps under Fraser-Carnie, have heard of the
affray in the alley, and have traced her from Kashgar to the mountain
wilds?
Edith could have clapped her hands with delight. Instead she became
suddenly quiet, with a little sigh of suspense.
Up the slope under the pines Iskander and Mahmoud were walking. By
the alert air of the _manaps_ the girl guessed that they had seen
her departure from the village and followed. Iskander moved silently
through the brush in his soft, morocco boots, holding up the folds
of his burnoose. Mahmoud followed idly as if uninterested in the
proceeding.
Whereupon Edith giggled irresistibly and nestled closer to her branch.
It was not likely that they would see her in her perch. She felt the
pleasant thrill of a fugitive, safe from pursuers, who watches the
course of the pursuit.
The two Sayaks moved nearer, evidently at loss where to seek for her.
Iskander muttered something angrily under his breath and halted beneath
the very tree in which she sat. Mahmoud followed more leisurely.
Edith's bright eyes surveyed the scene with satisfaction. Then her hand
flew to her throat as she stifled a cry.
Not a hundred yards away from the hemlock, and apparently nearer
because of her elevated position, she had seen the Sart. He lay prone
behind a low screen of ferns, and his long musket was trained upon
Iskander.
There was no mistaking the intent poise of the flattened body, the
purpose in the head pressed close to the gunstock. The ferns must
conceal the native from the keen glance of the Arab.
Iskander moved slightly, to draw a cigarette from the packet he carried
in his girdle. At this, the man behind the ferns looked up, only to
settle down to his sight again. A brown hand closed upon the trigger
guard.
"Iskander!" she cried--almost screamed--"Look out, in front of you!"
Startling as the girl's voice, coming from directly overhead, must
have been, the quick-witted Arab did not look up. He slipped behind
the bole of the tree while Edith was still speaking. There he drew a
long, first puff at his cigarette and exchanged a low warning with
Mahmoud--the _hakim_ being still unseen by the slayer behind the
thicket. Not even then did Iskander, experienced in the vicissitudes of
mountain warfare, raise his eyes from the surrounding forest.
"How many men, Mees Rand?" he asked quickly. "And where?"
"One, that I can see," breathed the girl. "Behind the ferns under the
tamarisks. He was going to shoot you with a rifle."
"Good. Is he a white man or a native?"
For a fleeting instant Edith's newly cherished hope flashed at this
mention of the nearness of possible rescuers. Then she reflected that a
follower of Major Fraser-Carnie or her father would hardly act in the
manner of the skulker behind the ferns.
At her answer, Iskander spoke briefly with Mahmoud.
"It was the will of Allah that I should not have my revolver this
morning," he remarked indifferently to the apprehensive girl. "But
watch! You will see an unbeliever taste his own fear."
He remained where he was. Mahmoud advanced swiftly from the underbrush,
his slits of eyes flickering over the ferns in front of him. He seemed
to have no fear. Edith glanced at the slayer, who by now had seen
Mahmoud. His broad, ugly face changed. His mouth opened and he gaped as
if in the fascination of utter dread. The girl noticed that his hands
trembled.
Then, with an animal-like grunt, the Sart sprang up and ran plunging
through the thickets up the mountain side.
Iskander smiled and placed his hand to his lips.
"Sayak!" he called, in a long, high note that carried far. "Sayak!
Zikr!"
As if an echo, a wailing cry answered from the upper forest. Another
took up the word, more distant. Still another voice repeated faintly
from a far-off height.
"Sayak!"
"You see." Iskander shrugged his shoulders. "Why should I bleed a dog
that flees, when there are those whose task it is? Presently you will
hear the death of the dog. Ah!"
He had noticed the telescope. Straightway he swung himself up into
the branches, climbing swiftly, for all his loose robe. Edith waited,
feeling like a criminal caught red-handed. She wished ardently for John
Donovan, but the white man was below in the village.
The Arab swung himself beside her on the branch and took the telescope.
Evidently he was familiar with such things. For some time, while the
girl observed him and Mahmoud squatted patiently beneath them, Iskander
swept the valley. When the tower came within his vision, his dark face
tensed. His lips bore a slight smile as he turned to the girl, who was
still nervous--an after-effect of the scene just enacted under the
pines.
"_Ohé_, my little winged bird," murmured the Arab. "What do you think
of those--riders upon the cliff, where you see the tower?"
Edith fancied that he was trying to sound her, to learn what she had
seen.
With a snap Iskander closed the telescope and thrust it into his
girdle, drawing at the cigarette he had not ceased to smoke.
"A score of years ago to that tower came the beast-like Russians,
stupid and without right to the lands. They were strong men, but
lustful and very greedy. They put up a flag and made a speech about a
boundary. Because of the cold, they stayed close to the _Kurgan_--all
but one."
He nodded reflectively.
"All but one. He was like a vulture, and this Vulture and his native
allies alone knew of Yakka Arik. They came to our valley--once. They
took many of our women who were bathing in the women's pools in the
shadow of the mosque. They took my daughter and her mother."
Iskander let the cigarette fall from his fingers. He spoke calmly, but
Edith saw the glow in his deep eyes and the veins that pulsed in his
temples.
"Yess. It was the Vulture, Mees Rand. When the Sayaks came to the
_Kurgan_ and asked for their thirty-nine women that had been taken
away, the Russian commandant said he knew nothing of the matter. He
said that the Alamans and Turkish followers had taken them.
"An Englishman who was hunting mountain sheep--although I think he was
never seen to shoot very many--had pitched his tent not far from the
_Kurgan_ and to him I carried our grievance. He said very little, but
he talked with the Russian commandant and after that there was much
confusion and sending of messages from the _Kurgan_. And presently the
commandant and his men went away from the tower, journeying back out of
our sight. The Englishman was Dono-van Khan and although his words were
very mild, the Russians feared that he could call upon thousands of
sword points from the British in India."
The girl listened eagerly, gleaning for the first time an insight into
the character of the adventurer.
"And so," explained Iskander, "we called him _khan_. Afterward, he
became the friend of Yakka Arik. Yet he would not admit that he was a
soldier, like the Vulture. Nay, but--Dono-van Khan knows the name of
the man who is the Vulture, and he alone can tell me the name of my
enemy. Soon Dono-van Khan will tell it to me.
"Aie! My daughter had seen fourteen summers. Her eyes were like twin
moons and the scent of her hair was like the jasmine flower. Her teeth
were white pearls. I did not see her again. It was told to me that
her mother was sold in the Yarkand bazaar. But when I traced her to
Khotan and the slave house of a merchant, she had died. But I have not
forgotten the Vulture. Come, Mees Rand, I will help you."
He assisted her to the ground. Mahmoud rose and stalked down toward the
village. Edith glanced at Iskander pityingly and curiously. Then she
uttered a stifled cry.
Gunshots had sounded from the mountain overhead. Two quick reports were
followed by another. Mahmoud looked up and smiled.
"The dog is dead," said Iskander, with the assurance of one who knew he
was voicing the truth. "Come!"
He strode along restlessly, a gnawing fever in his eyes. Edith had to
run to keep up, and a slipper fell from her foot. Iskander noticed it.
"Why," she asked, "did that--that man run when he saw Mahmoud? The
_hakim_ was unarmed----"
"Fear is sharper than a sword. The dog looked upon the face of him who
is master of the caravan, and feared lest he be sent away----"
Iskander broke off. Edith remembered that she had heard him use that
phrase before. What did it mean--to be sent away? She did not know. But
there was no mistaking the dread in the Sart's face. The man had feared
something, and very greatly.