"It's a thundering mistake allowing these fellows to wander all over the
country armed, like that," said Upward, commenting on their late
visitors, while preparations were being made for a start. "They are
never safe while they carry about those beastly tulwars. A fellow may
take it into his head to cut you down at any moment. If he has nothing
to do it with he can't; if he has he will. Government ought to put the
Arms Act into force."
"Then there'd be a row," suggested Campian.
"Let there be. Anything rather than this constant simmering. Not a
week passes but some poor devil gets stuck when he least expects it--in
broad daylight, too--on a railway station platform, or in the bazaar, or
anywhere. For my part, I never like to have any of these fellows
walking close behind me."
"No, I don't want either of you. I've had enough of you both for
to-day. I'm going to ride with Mr Campian now. I want to talk to him
a little."
Thus Nesta Cheriton's clear voice, which of course carried far enough to
be heard by the favoured one, as she intended it should. The pair of
discomfited warriors twirled their moustaches with mortification, but
their way of accepting the situation was characteristic, for while
Fleming laughed good-humouredly, if a trifle ruefully, Bracebrydge's
tone was nasty and sneering, as he replied:
"Variety is charming, they say, Miss Cheriton. Good thing for some of
us we are not all alike--ah--ha--ha!"
"I quite agree with you there," tranquilly remarked Campian, at whom
this profoundly original observation was levelled. Then he assisted
Nesta to mount.
The path down from the _kotal_ was steep and narrow, and the party was
obliged to travel single file. Finally it widened out as they gained
the more level valley bottom. Here were patches of cultivation, and
scattered among the rocks and stones was a flock of black goats, herded
by a wild looking native clad in a weather-beaten sheepskin mantle, and
armed with a long _jezail_ with a sickle shaped stock. Two wolfish curs
growled at the passers by, while their master uttered a sulky "salaam."
A blue reek of smoke rose from in front of a misshapen black tent,
consisting of little more than a hide stretched upon four poles, beneath
whose shelter squatted a couple of frowsy, copper-faced women. Two or
three more smoke wreaths rising at intervals from the mountain side, and
the distant bark of a dog, betokened the vicinity of other wandering
herdsmen.
"I never seem to see anything of you now," said the girl suddenly,
during a pause in the conversation, which up till then had been upon the
subject of the surrounding and its influences.
"Really? That sounds odd, for I have been under the impression that we
are looking at each other during the greater portion of every day, and
notably when we sit opposite each other at the not very wide, but
pre-eminently festive board."
"Don't be annoying. You know what I mean."
"That we don't go out chikor shooting together any more. You may
remember I foretold just such a possibility on the last occasion of our
joint indulgence in that pastime."
"Well but--why don't we?"
"For exactly the reason I then foretold. You seem better employed. I
amuse myself watching the fun instead."
She looked at him quickly. Was he jealous? Nesta Cheriton was so
accustomed to be spoiled and adored and competed for and quarrelled over
by the stronger sex, that she could hardly realise any member of the
same remaining indifferent to her charms. As a matter of fact, this one
was not indifferent. He appreciated them. Her blue-eyed, golden-haired
prettiness was pleasant to behold, in the close, daily intercourse of
camp life. He liked to notice her pretty ways, and there was something
rather alluring in her half affectionate and wholly confidential manner
towards himself. But--jealous? Oh no--no. He had lived too long, and
had too much experience of life for that phase of weakness. Nesta was
disappointed. She read no symptoms of the same in his face, her ear
detected no trace of bitterness or resentment in the tone.
"But I want to go out with you sometimes," she said. "Why do you avoid
me so of late?"
"My dear child, you never made a greater mistake in your life than in
thinking that. Here we are, you see, all crowded up together. We can't
all be talking at once--and--I thought you rather enjoyed the fun of
playing those two Johnnies off against each other."
"Ah, I'm sick of them. I wish they'd go back to Shalalai."
"I don't altogether believe that. Which is the favoured one, by the
way?"
"No, really. I rather like Captain Fleming, though." She laughed,
branching off with the light-hearted inconsequence of her type. "And--I
don't know what to do. He's awfully gone on me."
"And are you `awfully gone' on him?"
"Of course not. But I rather like him. I don't know what to do about
it."
"You don't know whether to buckle yourself for life to some one you
`rather like'--or not. Is that the long and short of it?"
"Yes."
"If you are a little idiot, Nessie, you will do it--if you are not, you
won't. You are dreadfully lacking in ballast, my child, even to dream
of such a thing, are you not?"
"I suppose so. I don't care a straw for anybody for more than a week or
so. Then I am just as sick of them as I can be. That's how I am."
"Except on that solitary occasion when you did take someone seriously.
Tell me about that, Nessita."
"No--no!"
"But you promised to, one of these days. Why not now?"
"What a tease you are. I won't tell it you now. No--nor ever.
There!--Hark! Wasn't that thunder?" she broke off suddenly.
"Yes. It's a long way off, though, travelling down yonder ridge. Won't
come near us."
Away along the summit of the further range a compact mass of cloud now
rested, and from this came a low distant peal. It represented one of
the thunderstorms common at that time of year, restricted in locality,
and of limited area. They gave it no further thought, and the
conversation running on from one subject to another, now grave, now gay,
carried them a long way over the road. The rest of the party were far
ahead. Bracebrydge was consoling himself by teasing Lily, and receiving
from that young person, not unaided by Hazel, many a repartee fully up
to the viciousness of his own thrusts. Fleming was riding with Mrs
Upward, while Upward and Bhallu Khan were constantly diverging from the
road, inspecting various botanical subjects with professional eye. Thus
Nesta and Campian, whether by accident or design of the former,
gradually dropped behind. Again, a long low boom of thunder pealed out
upon the stillness of the air.
"That's much nearer?" exclaimed the girl, looking up. "I say! I wish
it wouldn't! I don't like thunder."
"Scared of it?"
"Rather. What shall we do if it comes right over?"
"There may be some shelter of sorts further on. Meanwhile, don't think
about it. Go on talking to me. What subject shall we find to wrangle
about?"
She laughed, and very soon found a subject; and thus they continued
their way, until the path opened out from the narrow, stony,
juniper-grown valley they had been descending, on to a wide, open plain,
utterly destitute of foliage of any kind. The bulk of the party were
now visible again, further in advance, looking mere specks, nearly three
miles distant.
"They will be in the _tangi_ directly," said Nesta, shading her eyes to
watch the distant figures. "There, they are in it now," as the latter
disappeared in what looked like the mountain side itself, for no rift
was discernible from where these two now rode.
"We had better get on, hadn't we?" urged Campian.
"Oh no. I hate hurrying, and there's no earthly reason why we should."
So they held on at the same foot's pace over the plain, which stretched
its weary desolation far on either side of them. Here and there a great
hump of earth, streaked with white gypsum, relieved the dead level
monotony, but not a living thing--man, beast or bird--was in sight. Not
even a sound was audible, except the deep-toned growl of the thunder,
growing louder as they neared the mountain wall.
"Good study for a subject illustrating the jaws of Death," remarked
Campian, as, now before them, the mountain seemed to yawn apart in a
vertical fissure, which the stupendous height of the cliffs on either
hand caused to appear as a mere slit.
"Yes. And--it's beginning to rain."
Large drops were pattering down as they entered the jaws of the great
chasm, but once within them there was shelter for a space, for the
cliffs took an abrupt slant over at about a hundred feet above, so that
the sky was no longer visible. A trickle of muddy water was already
running down the stony footway. This should have warned Campian, at any
rate; but then his experience of the country and this particular feature
thereof, was not large. Nesta shivered.
"I don't like this at all," she said. "It is horrible. What if the
_tangi_ should come down?"
The other glanced upward. The cliff walls were smooth and straight.
Not a sign of ledge or projection to afford a foothold, no clinging
shrub or tree anchored in a cleft.
"Shall we go back?" he said. "There must be some way over."
"No, no. I came through here once before, and I remember Mr Upward
saying it would take a whole day to cross over the mountain. The
_tangi_ is only about a mile long."
"That means twenty minutes riding slow. Come along. We shall soon do
it."
But, even as his tone was, an ugly picture came before the speaker's
mind--that of a rush of black water many feet high, syphoned between
those smooth walls. Anxiously but furtively his glance scanned them as
they rode along.
As the narrowness of the passage wound and widened a little, the sky
once more became visible overhead. The sky? But it had clouded over,
and the rain fell somewhat smartly now upon the two wayfarers. A blue
gleam of lightning shot down into the depths, and the reverberating peal
which followed was as though telephoned in menacing boom through this
tube-like chasm. Hundreds and hundreds of feet they towered up now,
those iron-bound walls. It was like penetrating deeper and deeper into
the black heart of the mountain.
"See that place up there?" said Nesta, pointing to a kind of slanting
ledge quite twenty feet above and which might be reached by a strong
climber, though even then with difficulty. "Last time we came through
here, Bhallu Khan told us that two men had been overtaken by a rush, and
succeeded in getting to that point; but even there the water had reached
one of them and swept him away. Horrible, isn't it?"
"Very likely he invented the whole thing. He has an excellent
imagination, has our friend Bhallu Khan."
This he said to reassure her, not that he thought the incident
improbable. Indeed, glancing up at the spot indicated, he saw that
evidence in the shape of sticks and straws was not wanting to show that
the water had at some time reached that altitude, and the idea was not
pleasant. In the vivid sunshine of a cloudless day it would have added
interest to their way; now, with a gathering storm breaking over their
heads, and another half mile of what might at any moment become a raging
death-trap before them, it was dismal.
Another turn of the chasm, and the way, which had hitherto been level
and pebbly, now led up over steep and slippery slabs. It became
necessary to dismount, and here--Nesta's pony which she was leading, for
it became necessary to adopt single file, slipped and fell badly on its
side. By the time the terrified beast was on its legs again, shivering
and snorting, and sufficiently soothed down to resume the way, some
precious minutes had been lost.
"We might mount again now," said Campian, noting that the way was
smoother. "Come. Jump up."
But instead of placing her foot in the hand held ready to receive it,
the girl stood as though turned to stone. Every drop of blood had
forsaken her face, which was now white as that of a marble statue, her
lips ashy and quivering.
"Hark!" she breathed, rather than uttered. "It is coming! We are
lost!"
His own countenance changed, too. He had heard it as soon as herself--
that dull raving roar, echoing with hollow metallic vibration along the
rock walls. His heart almost died within him before the awfulness of
this peril.
"Oh no, nothing like that," he replied. "We must race it. We shall
distance it yet, if we only keep our heads."
The while he had put her into the saddle. Then taking the bridle, he
began to lead her pony over the dangerous point of the way. The brute
slipped and stumbled, now sliding, now about to pitch headlong, but both
got through.
"Now for it, Nessie. Give him all the pace you can, but keep him in
hand. We'll race it easily."
Down the _tangi_ now, giving their steeds all the rein they dared, these
two rode for dear life. Then Nesta's pony stumbling over a loose stone,
came right down, unhorsing his rider.
"Don't leave me! Oh don't leave me!" she shrieked despairingly. "I
can't move, my skirt is caught."
"Leave you. Is it likely? What do you take me for?" came his reply, as
in a moment he was dismounted and beside her. "Keep your head. It will
be all right in a moment. There!" as a vigorous tug brought the skirt
clear of the fallen animal, which lay as though stunned.
But as she gained her feet, the dull hollow booming, which had been
deepening ever behind them, became suddenly a roar of such terrible and
appalling volume, that Campian's steed, with a wild snort of alarm
jerked the bridle rein from his hand, and bolted wildly down the pass.
It all came before him as in a lightning flash. The utter hopelessness
of the situation. The flood had turned the corner of the reach they
were now in. He saw it shoot out from the projecting ridge, and hurl
itself with thunderous shock against the opposite rock face. Hissing
and bellowing it sprung high in the air, then, flung back, amid a vast
cloud of spray, it roared down upon them. One glance and only one, lest
the terror of the sight should paralyse him, and he realised that in
about two or three minutes that flood would be hurling their lifeless
bodies from side to side against those grim rock walls.