FIAM GOES FORTH
In the evening of the second day after that I felt that something
extraordinary was taking place. Every one was grave and preoccupied,
and Fiam was very much excited.
“What’s the matter?” I asked him for the hundredth time. Instead of
answering, he said:
“Look at me well. Do you think I could still take fire like any other
match? I mean if I should strike myself against a stone could I set
myself on fire?”
“Yes, of course. But for heaven’s sake, what do you want to do?” He
made me anxious. “Do you want to kill yourself?”
“No, no; don’t be afraid, my friend.”
Later on the colonel of artillery, in whom Fiam had recognized the old
warrior, came to my tent. He had been sent by the general to ask who
had warned me of the danger of entering this valley.
“No one,” I replied.
“You were right,” he went on; “we are in danger, but the spirits of the
heroes protect us, and we will come out all right yet.”
“What of the enemy?”
“It has shut us into the valley. It seemed best to come this way
because it is the shortest, and appeared to be free.”
“And can’t we get out through the opening ahead?”
“That exit is closed. The enemy has buried there a thousand pounds of
dynamite. If our troops pass over it it will explode.”
“Can they blow it up from a distance?”
“Yes, with an electric wire.”
“And can’t we turn back?”
“No; the valley is barricaded in the rear. If we tried it there would
be a desperate battle in which every one would be killed or captured
from the general to the last soldier.”
“Couldn’t we climb the mountains?”
“They are inaccessible and the enemy occupies the summit. Listen; they
are already firing on us.”
We could indeed hear the first guns. The sun had gone down some
time ago; the valley was dark. We could see the stars and the flash
of powder on the tops of the mountains. Stray balls fell on our
unprotected camp. The soldiers were preparing for battle. They were
digging trenches and cutting down trees to make defences. All this
silently as possible, and in the dark.
I asked the colonel how he knew the exit of the valley was mined.
“Two prisoners told us, deserters from the enemy.”
“Perhaps it isn’t true,” I exclaimed, but a tiny voice that I alone
could hear said:
“It is true.”
Fiam, on my collar, had listened to the conversation.
I saluted the colonel and went into my tent.
I started to light a candle, but Fiam stopped me:
“Don’t make a light. If they see a light they may shoot you in the
back.”
So we stayed in the dark, and Fiam went on:
“Take hold of me. I am on your shoulder. Now put on my waterproof,” he
ordered.
“Why?”
“It is necessary for me to keep dry.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Don’t lose time. Do as I say. It is for the good of all.”
I reached for the tin-foil that I kept behind a book, wondering what
his words meant. When I had dressed him he said:
“You wish me well?”
“With all my heart.”
“Then obey me, and have faith in me. Carry me outside the tent, walk
twenty-five steps toward the north, then put me on the ground and leave
me.”
“Toward the north? Be careful—that way lies the mine they intend to
explode under us.”
“Yes; be quiet—there isn’t a moment to lose.”
I was very much impressed by his earnestness and emotion. I went out,
holding him near my face in my hand and spoke to him tenderly. I felt
it to be a solemn moment.
“Fiam, what are you going to do?”
“I have already told you that I love him.”
“Whom?”
“Prince Funato. And that I am ready to protect, to defend and save him
even if it means my death.”
“And then?” I asked anxiously.
“Well, the time has come. I am going to save him.”
“But how?”
“I am going to set fire to the mine, and so make a way out for him and
his soldiers. Go back to your tent and send this message: ‘To-morrow
will be a day of victory.’ It is the last thing I shall tell you, my
dear good foreign friend.”
“Fiam, you are crazy. You will never succeed, never.”
“Why not? It will take me seven hours to go from here to the mine. A
man could go in a few minutes, but my legs are so short. I shall run. I
shall run faster than seems possible to you. But I shall be seven hours
at least.”
“But the mine is hidden; you can’t find it.”
“I can see what a man can’t. I am a match, but I am also a Haji. I know
about the mine; do you know how? Because I saw it when they were making
it and we were forty miles off. I shall find it easily. I shall go
directly to the dynamite, and light it myself.”
“But you will die,” I said in horror.
“Yes, but what is my life compared to that of so many people and the
possibility of victory? Don’t you think I ought to sacrifice myself?”
[Illustration: “I PUT HIM ON THE GROUND”]
I couldn’t answer. I was too sorrowful. Suddenly Fiam said:
“Here we must part. Good-bye. Think of me sometimes. I have cared a
great deal for you.”
I couldn’t control my tears.
“Fiam,” I protested, “let me carry you a hundred feet further.”
“No, it is useless. We must part now. Put me on the ground.”
“Good-bye.”
I put him on the ground and leaned down to him.
“Fiam,” I whispered, “forgive me if I have tried to hinder you. You are
doing well! Go and succeed. Your death is more beautiful than a hundred
lives. Some day I shall tell your story.”
“Good-bye.”
“Good-bye.”
I watched him starting off in the dark. His armour shone white in the
light of the stars. He was so tiny, he looked like a strange little
animal traveling between the stones and over the tufts of grass. Then
he disappeared from sight. My little man—my wonderful little man—had
gone forever.
[Illustration: The Zeal of Dr. Tasa]