BURSTING THE BONDS
It was Beresford that was quickest to profit by the instinctive act of
veneration inspired by the sight of the head-dress which use and
superstition had made a symbol of awful authority and power. Stepping
forward, he spoke in slow, grave tones over the heads of the grovelling
multitude.
"The Law of the Eye must be obeyed," he said in Chinese. "It changes
not from age to age. As its minister, I bid you withdraw on your faces
from the portal which you have polluted. You shall not stand upon your
feet until you reach the wall yonder. Then you shall hear the judgment
of the Master of the Eye."
The priests began in silence to crawl back towards the garden wall.
Mackenzie and Jackson, after a few moments of breathless suspense,
smiled wanly at each other. Forrester, meanwhile, realising with
amazement the wonderful effect produced on the crowd by the mere sight
of the head-dress, had at once checked his pace, and now moved down the
aisle with all the dignity he could muster, and stood motionless in the
doorway, in full view of the priests. When they rose to their feet and
saw him there, a shiver shot through them.
[Illustration: Forrester stood in the doorway, in full view of the
priests.]
"We must carry it through," Beresford murmured hurriedly. "Say two or
three words slowly and in a loud tone, and extend your hand towards
them. Keep up your dignity as Master of the Eye."
"Arma virumque cano," recited Forrester, reflecting rapidly that while
some of the priests might understand English, Latin would probably be
unknown to them.
Beresford bowed to the ground. Then lifting himself, he spoke in
Chinese.
"Hear the decree of the Master of the Eye. The slaves shall depart from
this place, with provisions, arms and gold, sufficient to carry them to
their homes. The Master of the Eye, and we his servants, will accompany
them. If any man of you molests our party, or seeks to stay our
progress, he shall suffer the last punishment."
The priests heard his words in silence. Their eyes were fastened
immovably on the august head-dress.
"I must go down to the cavern and bring up the wretches there," said
Beresford in a rapid undertone.
"Wait, wait, it's not safe," cried Mackenzie, wincing with the pain in
his wounded arm. "Send them all back to their houses first."
"He's right," said Forrester. "Who knows but some of them will go for
you in a frenzy!"
Beresford calmly gave the order; Mackenzie flung to the priests the key
of the wicket gate, and they slowly passed through it, crossed the
garden and the bridges, and retired into their dwellings on the farther
side.
Forrester heaved a great sigh of relief. "The blessed thing won't work,"
he said. "If they only knew it!"
"They don't! Your appearance was a stroke of genius," said Beresford.
"Not even a lucky fluke!" said Forrester. "I put the thing on to keep it
safe. It's plaguey heavy: may I take it off now, d'you think?"
"Surely, for a few minutes at any rate--out of their sight. We must
decide rapidly on the next step."
They withdrew a few paces into the aisle, leaving the two Chinamen to
keep watch on the priests. Jackson meanwhile did his best to bind up
Mackenzie's wounded shoulder. Forrester put the head-dress on the ledge
of the golden throne, and linking arms with Beresford, walked slowly
towards the doorway.
"Have you found the way down?" asked Beresford.
"No. There's no sign of doorway or staircase, is there, Mac?"
"None whatever."
"Then we must make the priests tell us," Beresford went on. "When I
have got the prisoners from below, we must tell the slaves--I fancy by
the noise that they are already in a great state of excitement beyond
the wall. We'll send them down first into the rift and ourselves bring
up the rear. One of the priests will have to guide us, of course."
"And the negritos?"
"They can go too if they choose. But I fancy that as the aboriginal
inhabitants of the plateau they won't care to migrate."
"The Old Man?"
"Ah! What shall we do with him? We might fetch him down, I suppose, if
we can find his secret door, and take him with us, though I don't know
in the least what country would have the right and privilege to punish
him as he deserves. On the whole I think we had better let him alone,
report the whole matter when we get back, and leave the governments to
squabble among themselves about the ownership of this valuable
region.... But what on earth's the matter?"
They heard frenzied shouts from the direction of the sanctum. In a few
moments Hamid Gul came into view, running like a deer, and screaming
"Hai! hai!" at the top of his voice. The Englishmen turned to meet him.
"By Jinks! He's got our rifles!" cried Forrester, in delight.
"But his cries sound more like fright than jubilation," said Beresford,
puzzled.
"Well?" Forrester asked, as the Bengali rushed up panting, and thrust a
rifle into his hand.
"One-armed bald-head, sahib!" he gasped. "Hai! my lungs and liver!
With rifles in arms, lucky find in cupboard, I come through old
gentleman's bedroom. Sight I saw knocked me silly, sahib. One-armed
josser lost all his hair: bald as basin; went slap bang into wall,
sahib."
"Wen Shih?"
"Identical and no mistake, sahib, though hardly knew him without wig.
And he had in hands old gentleman's funny old----"
"What!" broke in Forrester with a shout, glancing towards the spot where
he had laid the head-dress. It was gone! Behind the throne a panel
stood open in the wall.
"He's got it! He's taken it to the Old Man! We're dished!" cried
Forrester.
Instinctively he took a few rapid paces towards the sanctum. But he
remembered in a flash that he had been unable to find the door in the
wall. He started back, in his agitation not knowing for the moment what
to do for the best. Then suddenly his eyes fell on the rifle Hamid Gul
had thrust into his hands. With a rapid jerk he threw open the chamber.
It was full of cartridges, just as when he last had it in the rift.
His friends stared in amazement as he ran to the door, leapt over the
fallen priests, and rushed into the courtyard. They followed him to the
entrance. He was looking up into the air. On the far side of the
enclosure the priests had emerged from their houses, and were standing
in silence, gazing intently, eagerly upwards. When Forrester reached
the wall he turned about, set the rifle to his shoulder, took steady
aim, and fired. A dead silence followed the reverberations of the shot;
then a yell of rage burst from the throng of priests, and they came
leaping in one tumultuous mob towards the garden. At the same time, far
to the left, a dark, bearded figure jumped down from the top of the
outer wall, and rushed straight towards Forrester, spade in hand.
Forrester stood for a few seconds steadily gazing up, and the spectators
in the portal saw his face pale, and a strange look come into his
staring eyes. Then he shivered as though a blast of icy wind had struck
upon him, and ran staggeringly back to the doorway. A moment behind him
Sher Jang dashed into the pagoda.
"I hit him!" Forrester said under his breath, in the hushed tone of one
who has witnessed a tragedy. "He was carrying the head-dress up the
stairway to the Old Man. He rolled from roof to roof, and plunged down,
down, he and the head-dress, into the rift."
He sank into one of the seats, and stared dully at the floor.
"Quick, you men!" cried Beresford, taking instant grip of the situation.
"The rifles! The Chinamen are at us!"
"Have you got our revolvers, Hamid?" asked Mackenzie.
"They are there, sahib. I could not carry----"
"Away with you! Don't stand blethering there! Fetch them, and run like
the wind."
The priests were swarming across the garden, jostling one another in the
narrow gate, leaping towards the pagoda. Infuriated at the loss of
their colleague, just promoted to the higher rank, and at the trick
played upon them, they knew that the "foreign devils" no longer had the
Eye at their command, and already gloated over their slaughtered bodies.
Venting shrill cries of frenzy, they made straight for the entrance,
reckless and without order.
But their vision of an orgy of carnage was rudely dispelled. Within the
doorway Beresford, Jackson, and Sher Jang stood calmly awaiting them,
rifle at shoulder. At twenty paces the rifles flashed; three men fell
upon their faces; their comrades reeled back. Another volley crashed
into the crowd surging on, and as the survivors staggered, the bark of
the revolvers placed by Hamid in the hands of Forrester and Mackenzie
mingled with the groans and shrieks of the frantic mob. They turned
about, flung away their futile weapons, and fled, a wild rout, through
the gate and over the garden towards their dwellings.
"After them!" cried Mackenzie. "No more firing!"
The little garrison stepped out into the open. And there Sher Jang put
his fingers to his lips and blew a shrill blast. Instantly the long
wall to the left was thick with men, who scrambled over, dropped to the
ground, and pursued the panting priests, brandishing the implements of
their servitude, and filling the air with fierce triumphant yells. The
shikari, at the first sounds of commotion, had collected his fellow
slaves and led them to the wall to await his signal.
They swarmed after their oppressors. The passion for freedom throbbed
in their veins. The pent-up fury of years of abject captivity burst the
fetters that had chained their souls. No hireling valour could
withstand them. The priests, their rage become terror, fled like stags
before the hounds, across the bridges, through the stream, towards the
further gate and their barracks beyond. The huddled mass choked the
gate; a few turned at bay; some fell on their knees and prayed for
mercy; they had shown no mercy, none they received. The slaves smote
and spared not. They forced their way through the gate, hunted the
priests to their doors, dashed in after them like terriers into a
warren, drove them out at the rear, and chased them pell-mell across the
plateau in all directions. And the Old Man still stood like a graven
image on his gold-fenced platform aloft.
The white men withdrew into the pagoda. They had neither the power nor
maybe the will to interfere between the priests and their late victims.
"We may be thankful we are not all blown up," said Beresford, as they
threw themselves wearily upon the golden chairs. "I was in terror lest
they should break through into the cavern. One priest put his foot into
the hole and fell sprawling over the embankment into the stream. But
now our way is clear."
They all turned and looked at the opening in the wall behind the throne.
"Wen Shih has opened the door for us," said Forrester. "He must have
come up from below and run off with the head-dress when our backs were
turned."
"The irony of Fate!" said Beresford. "Now we will bring up the poor
creatures still below, and make preparations to depart."