DOOM
It was a strange procession that filed some hours later through the rift
towards the thundering falls. Sher Jang led the way, rifle on shoulder;
the position suited his dignity, and Forrester, in giving it him, had
been moved by a desire to separate him as far as possible from Hamid
Gul. That worthy had again "sung his own praises quite a lot," and
boasted so much of the part he had played in recent events that the
shikari found him more offensive than ever.
Behind the leader marched the old zamindar with his daughter, and the
whole body of slaves, Chinese, Tibetans, Indians of all castes and none.
They were light-hearted, even merry; the reaction from black despair was
extreme. Every man bore his load. Many had stinted their supply of
food, to cumber themselves the more heavily with gold; for in the final
sack of the pagoda they had seized upon every golden article that was
portable.
At the rear came the Englishmen with Hamid Gul and Beresford's sturdy
little Tibetan, whom they had found in one of the underground cells,
despairing about his master, but wholly uncowed by the green eye. The
two servants carried their masters' possessions, found in one of the
cupboards behind the armoury, among them three articles on which
Beresford set much store. One was the tablet that had led him and
Redfern to the spot. The second was a roll of parchment giving the Old
Man's pedigree; apparently he was the last of a line which had held
unbroken sway for many centuries. The third was a similar roll, less
ancient, inscribed with the names of the Chinese prisoners who had been
employed, during a period of fifty years, in transmuting the lead into
gold. At the head of the list was a short statement which Beresford
could not fully decipher, but from which he inferred that, fifty years
before, a certain mandarin of Yunnan, having scented out a secret in
those wilds, had organised an expedition to discover it, and coming into
conflict with the father and predecessor of the present owner, had slain
him in fight. The attack had been beaten off, and the Old Man had taken
implacable revenge by kidnapping or otherwise impressing young members
of every branch of the mandarin's family.
The white men had decided in consultation to take the whole crowd back
to Dibrugarh, lay all the facts before the Government, and leave it to
determine the future. Hitherto the district had been a No Man's Land;
when it became known that it concealed a manufactory of gold, no doubt
there would be eager competition for its ownership. The breaking-up of
the remnant community of priests was only a question of time.
Towards the close of the day the procession reached the forest village
in which Forrester's party had left their carriers. One of the
liberated prisoners acting as interpreter, it was learnt that the Nagas,
tired of waiting for their employers, and convinced that they had fallen
victims to the mysterious Eye, had gone away about a week before.
"I wonder if they ventured into Dibrugarh?" said Forrester.
"It's not likely," Mackenzie answered. "They've no interest in us, and
as they've taken our baggage, they'll appropriate that in lieu of pay."
"I hope Redfern recovered," said Jackson.
"I've grave fears about that," said Beresford. "It is more than a month
since we parted, and if he were well he would have sent up a relief
force long before this. Poor old Runnymede!"
"He didn't know we came, of course," said Mackenzie. "Maybe we were
asses not to tell somebody. They all think we are holiday making!"
"By Jinks! I'm ready for a holiday now," cried Jackson.
"A bath and a change of togs would be enough for the moment," said
Forrester. "I've never been tempted to compare Dibrugarh to heaven
before! We can't leave these people to wander without guidance, or I'd
vote for pushing on faster to-morrow. I long to smell soap again."
By dint of hard marching they made more rapid progress next day. In the
afternoon, emerging from a tract of forest land, they recognised at some
distance the well-remembered contours of the hill which Redfern had
named Monkey-face. They had set their course towards its base when a
glint of light on the hill-top attracted their attention.
"Nobody heliographing, surely!" exclaimed Forrester.
"There's somebody up there, though," cried Jackson. "Don't you see
figures moving?"
They halted, and gazing ahead, made out several small moving objects on
the skyline. Every now and then there was a flash, reflected from the
rays of the declining sun.
"Would you not say that's a tent?" asked Mackenzie presently, when they
had moved a little nearer. He indicated an object of conical shape on
the skyline.
"A tent it is!" answered Forrester. "And by Jinks! they've seen us!
They're mounting horses! They're galloping down!"
The distance was still too great for the forms of the riders to be
clearly distinguished, and as a measure of precaution the Englishmen
called a general halt, and placed themselves, with those of their
followers who had firearms, in the van. They watched the horsemen
steadily, and in growing excitement. Pith helmets, the khaki dress, the
very manner of their riding, bred conviction.
"The Assam Light Horse!" Jackson declared.
He waved his arms and cheered frantically. His companions took up the
cry, and a faint response came from the galloping horsemen.
"There's old Jenkins!" cried Forrester presently, recognising a comrade.
"And McIlwaine!" Mackenzie chimed in.
"And Paddy!" from Jackson.
"And, on my life, dear old Runnymede himself!" shouted Beresford. "I
knew he wouldn't fail us!"
He started forward impetuously, the others following. The horsemen
dashed down, reined up their steeds, and sprang to the ground. There
was laughing and hand-shaking, a confused and deafening exchange of
welcomes, protests, demands for explanation.
"You old frauds!"
"Dashed unfair!"
"You've had all the fun!"
"Why didn't ye give us all a chance, then?"
"What's kept you, you set of blighters?"
"A pretty set of scarecrows, by Jove!"
Redfern and Beresford clasped hands in silence awhile.
"You're thinner, Harry," said Redfern at length.
"You're not looking very fit yourself," answered Beresford. "Had a
shake, old man?"
"Rotten! You're quite sound, eh?"
"Yes, thank God! There's a heap to tell you. What were you doing on
the hill?"
"Camping for the night. We've done fifty miles since morning. Were
coming on to-morrow. Glad we're too late, old chump!"
Presently, when all had cooled down, they fell to talking practically.
It was near sunset, and they decided that Forrester and his party should
mount the hill and share the planters' tents for the night, the mingled
mass of Orientals camping at the foot.
An hour later, gathered about the camp fire, the band of bronzed and
stalwart young Englishmen listened raptly to the story told by
Beresford. He related all the incidents of the weeks since Redfern was
parted from him by the iron shutter. The silence of the audience was
broken now and again by ejaculations of horror, rage, sheer amazement.
When Beresford had finished, there were cries for Forrester, Mackenzie,
Jackson in turn. Each added some detail of his own experience.
"And the villainous Old Man?" cried one.
"We left him standing like an ivory statue on his platform, surveying
the wreck of his little empire," said Beresford.
"And the Eye--what became of it?" asked another.
"We don't know," Forrester answered. "None of us had the heart to look
for the body of the poor wretch. I suppose the Eye opened; if it did,
it is boring a hole somewhere in the rift."
"That one-eyed freak of yours is a trump, Dick," said a third. "We've
always wondered why you kept the chap."
"Yes; I shan't forget him. The only grudge I have against Mac is that
he didn't tell us in the cavern that Hamid was his postman above."
"Och! I'm not a bletherskite," grunted Mackenzie.
"I vote we go on to-morrow and wipe out the whole rascally crew," cried
another.
"And chuck the Old Man into his pit."
"He's too tough and skinny to please the Monster."
"But I say, what about that gold-making concern? Why shouldn't we make
ourselves millionaires?"
"I wouldn't go down there again if I came out Rockefeller and Vanderbilt
rolled into one," said Forrester emphatically. "Looking back on it, I
can't imagine now how I climbed that chimney. When I was near the top,
and heard the water gurgling overhead----"
"Well, what of that?"
Before Forrester could reply, the darkening sky was lit up northward by
a sudden blaze of light that brought everyone to his feet in
consternation. As one of them afterwards remarked, it was like the
blinding glare of ten thousand flashlights. It was gone in an instant,
and the universe seemed plunged into utter blackness.
The men stood at gaze. Perhaps a minute after the flash, a roar like
the gunfire of all the world's fleets rolled and thundered dully about
them. The earth trembled beneath their feet. Presently the air became
hot, and a shower of fine dust mingled with stones bespattered them.
"A volcano!" cried one.
"No; that is the answer to your question," said Beresford quietly.
"What do you mean, sir?"
"What we feared might happen, has happened. I haven't a doubt of it.
Our mining must have weakened the embankment, the stream broke through
and plunged into the pit, tons of water were decomposed by the
mysterious rays, and the explosion has shattered everything with
volcanic force."
"Ay, and there's the end of the Old Man of the Mountain," Mackenzie said
gravely.
The workers in the Laibach observatory recorded a seismic disturbance,
locating it somewhere in the steppes of Central Asia. No authentic
information, accredited by responsible men of science, ever reached
them. But in course of time fantastic stories came to this country in
private correspondence, and found their way into the newspapers. They
were pooh-poohed, laughed at, pronounced incredible. Certain
adventurous spirits did indeed slip off with more or less secrecy and
hurry by the quickest route to the unknown country watered by the middle
Brahmaputra. A company was even formed in London for exploiting gold in
that region; but it lived feverishly and died forlorn. Persistent
explorers ranged over mile upon mile of desolate country in quest of a
gigantic waterfall, a marvellous canon, and a fertile plateau that was
said to be inhabited by an aboriginal race of pigmies. Of the canon
they found no trace; only a number of scattered bones, large and small,
announced that human beings and strange monsters had once inhabited what
was now a rocky waste. A hitherto unknown river was discovered, broken
for miles of its course by foaming rapids; but rapids are not
waterfalls, as everybody knows.
In his rooms at Cambridge Henry Beresford sometimes shows his visitors a
painted tablet from Khotan, and some strangely inscribed rolls of
parchment. If pressed, he will tell a singular story, which they listen
to politely, and with murmurs of "How very interesting!" totally
disbelieve. The fact is that neither he, nor his friend Captain
Redfern, nor certain young planters in Assam, care very much to talk
about the events of those few weeks when the currents of their lives
were mingled, and danger welded them into a comradeship which nothing
will sever.
[Illustration: Tailpiece]
HERBERT STRANG'S STORIES
_STORIES OF THE GREAT WAR_
FIGHTING WITH FRENCH: A Tale of the New Army.
FRANK FORESTER: A Story of the Dardanelles.
A HERO OF LIEGE: A British Scout in Belgium.
_ROMANCES_
PALM TREE ISLAND: A Story of Adventure in the South Seas.
THE ADVENTURES OF DICK TREVANION: A Story of the Smuggling Days.
JACK HARDY: A Story of 1805.
_TALES OF EMPIRE AND FOREIGN ADVENTURE_
THE AIR SCOUT: A Story of National Defence.
THE AIR PATROL: A Story of the North-West Frontier.
TOM BURNABY: A Story of the Congo Forest.
SAMBA: A Story of the Congo.
SETTLERS AND SCOUTS: A Story of Adventure in East Africa.
SULTAN JIM: A Story of Adventure in Central Africa.
_ROMANCES OF MODERN INVENTION_
KING OF THE AIR; or, To Morocco in an Aeroplane.
ROUND THE WORLD IN SEVEN DAYS: The Story of an Aeroplane.
THE MOTOR SCOUT: The Story of a Motor Bicycle.
LORD OF THE SEAS: The Story of a Submarine.
SWIFT AND SURE: The Story of a Hydroplane.
THE FLYING BOAT: The Story of a Hydro-Aeroplane.
THE CRUISE OF THE GYRO-CAR: The Story of a Two-Wheeled Motor Car.