THE PUSH FOR THE FRONTIER
“Did you call, General?” asked the captain; and as the voice came
through the door I tightened the grip on my prisoner and pressed the
barrel of the revolver harder against his head.
He hesitated, and when no answer was given the question was repeated.
“Yes,” said Kolfort, in an unsteady tone.
“Shall I come in? Is anything the matter?” and I felt the door pushed
from the outside.
“No,” in the same unsteady tone. “No, I--I do not need you. You will
take your men back to my house and--and wait for instructions.”
“And the prisoner, General? Shall we take her with us?”
“Tell him she has killed herself,” I whispered.
“There is no prisoner to take, Captain Berschoff. She has--has taken
her own life. Leave that to me. Withdraw your men and send my carriage
up to the door here for me.”
“Very good, General. Is that all?”
“Yes, that’s all.” The words came with a sigh of relief. I shut the
door immediately, and we stood in the dark, near the window which the
two officers had broken to get into the house, and listened as the
captain walked quickly to the gates. Then came a word of command,
followed by the scraping of the carriage wheels on the drive, and the
sounds of the soldiers’ horses and the rattle of their accoutrements as
they wheeled away along the road.
So far all was going well, and the crisis I feared had passed safely.
The carriage drew up outside the door.
“Remember where to tell him to drive, Kutscherf,” I said sternly.
“You have half earned your life, but you must go through with it.” I
opened the door, linked my arm in his, and led him down the steps, and
together we entered the carriage. He gave his order to the coachman
through the window, and a moment later we started, turned out of the
gates, and rattled along at a brave pace for the frontier.
General Kolfort fell back on the seat and pressed his hands to his
face, as though dizzy and weak with the long tension of fear, and
partly, I judged, ashamed of himself for his cowardice.
“You had better try to sleep, General,” I said; “we have a long drive.
I shall be on watch, and shall not need to disturb you unless we
stumble across any of your troublesome patrols.”
This was indeed my one source of fear now, and I leant back thinking
how we should deal with them in the event of interference. The
General’s presence would probably make everything smooth enough, but
there was always a chance that an opportunity would be given for him to
try some trick to elude me.
We had at least sixty miles to drive, and as it was now past midnight I
reckoned we could not reach the frontier until between seven and eight
in the morning. It would be sunrise by five, and there would be thus at
least two or three hours to drive in daylight. That would be the time
of chief danger.
It was a bright, fine night, the moon had risen, and when we had
cleared the town I resolved to urge the driver to quicken the pace of
his horses. I let down the window, and the cool night air came rushing
in and roused my companion, who sat up quickly.
“What is the matter?”
“Nothing; I wish your man to travel faster.” I leant out and called to
him:
“The General says you are to drive faster; at a gallop where possible.”
He did not hear me at first, and was for checking the horses, until I
shouted the order to him again. I drew in my head, and was only just in
the nick of time to avoid trouble.
The General had opened the door on his side and, in his desperation,
was in the very act of springing out. I caught hold of him, dragged him
back, and shut the door again. He fell in a heap huddled up at my feet.
“A very dangerous leap for a man of your age,” I said drily. “I have
probably saved your life, for the second time to-night,” and I lifted
him up on to the seat of the carriage again. “And now, understand
me, if you had got out, I would have sprung out after you and shot
you in the highway, had it cost me my life. I thought that you would
understand by now that I’m in too dangerous a mood for you to fool
with. But I’m glad of the hint you’ve given me, and I sha’n’t forget it
for the rest of the way.”
He made no answer, but lay back on the seat as before, and I did not
attempt to rouse him. The incident disquieted me, for it showed that
he was dead set on outwitting me, and would do so if I relaxed for a
single second the strain of his terror of my pistol.
The carriage was now travelling at a great pace, the man urging the
horses to a gallop over every yard of level road. We reached the first
village without further incident, and I told the man where to get the
change of horses. There was a little delay in rousing the people of the
place, but once roused they set to work with a will, and in a very few
minutes we were spinning on again with the fresh cattle at the same
high speed for the next stage.
Markov had done his work shrewdly, and had planned the route so that
for the greater part of the way we travelled without having to use the
main road. But the by-ways were rough going in many places, and this
retarded our progress. We made good time, however, and when we changed
horses for the second, third, and fourth times without being stopped,
my hopes began to rise fast that we might even reach the frontier
unchallenged. We had covered over forty miles, and yet, including the
time spent in changing horses, we had barely been four hours on the
road.
A check came soon after the fourth change, however. We had to take to
the main road, and had covered some two or three miles, when I heard a
shout and felt the carriage checked suddenly.
“Who goes there?” called someone, and looking out I saw we were in the
midst of a strong patrol.
“You’d better not stop us. I’m driving express. It’s General Kolfort,”
came the coachman’s voice.
I caught my breath, and my prisoner roused himself instantly and sat
up. I passed my arm round him and, pressing the revolver against his
ribs over his heart from behind, I said:
“You will tell these men to allow us to pass. My pistol is within an
inch of your heart, and my finger on the trigger.” I felt him shudder.
“Let that window down, and call to them angrily. You know me.”
He let it down, fumbling clumsily, so that with my disengaged hand I
had to help him.
The non-commissioned officer in charge of the patrol had dismounted and
came to the window.
“What do you mean by stopping me? Don’t you know who I am, blockhead?”
cried the General, his teeth chattering with chill and fright.
“My orders are imperative, to stop all travellers and see their
papers,” replied the man as he saluted.
“Well, you’ve stopped us; that’s enough.”
“I must see your papers, if you please,” he said stolidly.
“Do you suppose the General writes passes for himself,” I broke in.
“We have no papers,” cried the General sharply. I saw his motive; he
wished to provoke the man to stop us.
“Then you will have to alight,” said the soldier.
“Very well. I suppose there’s no help for it;” and as he turned to me
the General’s face wore an expression half defiant, half cunning. “I’m
not responsible for what these blockheads do,” he said.
“What papers do you want?” I asked, at a loss quite what to do in this
new and perplexing turn.
“All travellers this way must carry a permit, or they are to be
stopped. Those are my orders.”
“But surely you know General Kolfort?”
“I must see the permit,” he answered doggedly.
“That’s easily managed. You can write one, General.”
The man shook his head.
“They must be signed and countersigned,” he returned, with growing
suspicion and rising anger.
“The fellow’s right,” said the General, turning to me with a laugh.
“It’s absurd, but he’s right.” His manner enraged me. He was trying all
he dared to play into the man’s hands.
“I am only obeying orders,” said the sergeant; and for a moment it
seemed as if between them I should be fooled. But I knew well enough
what short work my prisoner would have made of such an interruption
under other circumstances.
“Do you tell me you don’t know that this is General Kolfort?” I asked
very sternly.
“I am not here to study faces, sir, but to examine permits,” was the
blunt blockhead’s answer.
“You can at least read, then? And I presume you know the General’s
handwriting. You shall have an order signed by the General, and one
which will need no countersign to ensure its being obeyed. What’s your
name and regiment? Quick!” I said in a short tone of command.
“Max Pullschoff, sergeant, 3rd Regiment, 2nd Army Corps,” he answered
saluting.
“Now, General, order him to allow us to proceed at once at his peril.
This fooling has gone far enough,” and I enforced my words with a look
of menace, while I pressed the revolver hard against his ribs, and
added in a whisper, “Instantly!”
He hesitated just one instant, trying to nerve himself to defy me, but
it was only for the instant.
“I am General Kolfort, and I order you at your peril to delay me no
longer.”
“I am very sorry, sir, but my orders are absolute. I can’t do it.”
“Write an order to Captain Berschoff that the rascal has mutinied
against your authority, General, and that instantly on his return to
quarters he is to be imprisoned and flogged for mutiny. We will see
then what he says about signatures,” and I took out my pocket-book and
gave it him with a pencil.
He glared at me viciously, but the revolver was his master, and he
wrote out the order just as I had bade him, and signed it.
“Now, Sergeant Pullschoff, read that, and say whether in the face of it
you venture to carry this thing further.”
The man took it, and I saw his face turn deadly white as he read it and
scanned the signature closely.
“I have done no more than my duty, General,” he murmured; but I saw
that I had beaten him, and I pressed that advantage home.
“If you detain us a minute longer, my man, you will go galloping back
to Sofia in custody for that order to be executed. You and your men
know perfectly well that this is General Kolfort, and that this is his
carriage.”
He stepped away from the carriage window, and I saw him consult with a
couple of his men.
“If I break my orders you will hold me harmless, General?”
“Of course we shall. Tell him so, General.”
“Yes,” assented the latter, but very slowly and regretfully, for the
new turn of the matter was all against his wishes.
“You can give me back that order,” I said then. “And I shall make it my
business to see that you are commended for your care in carrying out
your instructions. Tell the coachman to drive on.”
“Thank you, sir. I wish to do no more,” said the fellow, saluting, as
he handed me the paper, and then called to the driver to proceed.
“A very excellent soldier that, very wooden, but human at bottom in his
fear for himself,” I said quietly to my prisoner, as we passed the last
of the patrols, who all saluted us.
“Curse you!” cried the General, in the bitterness of his chagrin and
disappointment.
I laughed; I could afford to now that the danger was passed; and my
satisfaction was the more genuine because the danger had been more
serious than I had anticipated. Moreover, it suggested to me to take a
precaution which I had neglected before starting.
When we drew up for the next change of horses I made my prisoner write
me a formal permit to pass all patrols, as being on special service,
and I pocketed it for use in case of need. The value of it I had an
opportunity of testing within a few minutes, for we were stopped again
by another patrol of troops. But I produced the permit this time, and
it was accepted without a word of comment.
It was now daylight; and, as we drew near the frontier, my excitement
increased. When we changed horses for the last time my spirits were as
high as my companion’s rage and chagrin were manifest.
In less than an hour I should be across the frontier if all went
well; and all had gone so well that it would be a mere superfluity of
cowardice to anticipate any serious obstacle now. We had left the main
road, and had travelled some four miles through rough hilly cross lanes
to the point where Markov had planned for the frontier to be crossed,
when I found that the driver was in trouble with the horses. They were
going very erratically, now jibbing and plunging in the harness, and
again dashing forward at headlong speed. While they galloped I cared
nothing, and, though we bumped over the rough roads so violently
that my companion could scarcely keep on his seat, and was constantly
thrown against me, I was well contented, and laughed. The greater the
speed the better it pleased me. But when they stopped, and plunged, and
kicked with a violence quite beyond the man’s power to control, I was
anxious enough.
Then, quite suddenly, came an overwhelming disaster which ruined
everything. We had ascended a steep hill at a slow pace, with more
than one stoppage, and were descending a slope on the other side, when
the horses bolted, and dashed away down it with a frantic fury that
threatened to smash us up at almost every stride. The pace was mad
enough to frighten a man whose nerves were in far better order than
those of my fright-wrought prisoner, and his terror paralysed him.
There was going to be a smash; and I had scarcely time to realise the
certainty of it, and to wonder vaguely how it would affect my escape,
when it came. There were a few moments of mad, jolting, dizzying rush
down the hill, then a fearful crash as the wheels struck against some
heavy obstacle, a wild jerk that threw us both forward in a heap,
a noise of smashing glass and rending woodwork, half-a-dozen great
lurching bumps and jolts, and the carriage was on its side, dragging,
and tearing, and grinding on the rough road, till it stopped, and I
found myself lying in its ruins, with my hands and face badly cut
and bruised, and every bone in my body, as it seemed, either broken
or dislocated. I struggled out of the ruin as best I could, to find
the driver and his horses in a heap in the road, the man himself in
imminent peril of being kicked to death. I managed to haul him out of
danger, and laid him by the roadside unconscious from the effect of
his fall, and left the horses to fight it out for themselves while I
looked after General Kolfort.
He was also unconscious; but whether from hurt or fear I could not
tell. He lay pinned underneath the carriage, and I had great difficulty
in releasing him. But I got him out, and set him beside the coachman,
just as one of the horses succeeded in kicking himself free, struggled
to his feet, and began backing and tugging to break the reins. I ran
to him, patted and soothed him, and then, cutting the reins, I knotted
them and fastened him to a tree. I meant him to carry me to the
frontier on his back, and was glad to find, when I ran my hands over
him, that he had no more serious hurts than a few surface cuts.
But I was in truth vastly puzzled how to act. To take the General
with me any further was impossible; yet to leave him behind might
be infinitely dangerous. The instant he recovered consciousness he
would set all his wits and malice to work to have me followed; and my
perplexity was vastly increased when I saw about a mile ahead of me a
couple of horse-patrols appear on the crest of a hill, and come riding
leisurely toward us.
There was no time for hesitation. I realised instantly the
impossibility of holding the General in my power by means of threats
in the presence of a couple of soldiers in broad daylight. There was
infinitely less danger in trusting to flight.
I rushed to the horse, therefore, unfastened him, leapt on his bare
back, and set off at a gallop to meet the approaching soldiers. As I
glanced back I saw to my dismay that the General had been fooling me
with a sham fainting fit, for he had risen to a sitting posture, and
was endeavouring to shake the coachman back to his senses.
At this I urged my horse forward, for I knew his next step would be
to try and make the soldiers understand that I was to be stopped and
secured.
As I galloped I made my plans. Getting within earshot, I called to them
to hasten forward, for they had halted, and stood with their carbines
ready to stop me.
Reining my horse up as best I could, I said, in a tone of command:
“General Kolfort has met with an accident there, and you are to hasten
to his assistance instantly.”
“One moment, if you please, sir. Have you your papers?” asked one of
the men.
“Of course I have. I am riding on special service. Here is my permit;”
and I showed it to him, not letting it out of my hands, however. He
pushed his horse forward and read it.
“It seems all right,” he said.
“Of course it’s all right. I am on a matter of life or death, and have
to press forward with all speed. I have had to use one of the carriage
horses; but one of you had better give me yours. It is an urgent affair
of State.”
My tone of authority, added to the permit of urgency with the General’s
signature, impressed him considerably.
“It’s all against orders,” he said, hesitating.
“Do you suppose this won’t justify everything?” I cried, shaking the
General’s order in his face. “You may find it awkward to refuse. The
General will soon put you right. Quick! there’s no time to lose;” and,
to act my part thoroughly, I slipped off my horse.
He dismounted slowly, and half reluctantly; but the instant his foot
touched the ground, I let my horse loose, and, giving him a thrust in
the ribs, sent him trotting down the road, while I seized the bridle of
the other and swung into the saddle, before the man had recovered from
his astonishment.
Then an exclamation from the second soldier attracted the attention of
us both. There was good cause; for, on looking back, I saw that three
other horse-soldiers had joined the General, who was making frantic
gesticulations to the men with me.
“Ah! he sees me stopping, and wishes me to push on,” I said.
“I think you had better ride back with us, if you please,” said the
soldier who had dismounted, and he made a sign to his companion, who
was still barring my path, to stop me.
“Nonsense, he wishes me to push on.”
“I can’t let you proceed, sir, order or no order,” he answered bluntly,
and made as if to seize my horse’s bridle, while he ordered his
subordinate to prevent my passing.
At the same moment the men with the General fired their carbines to
call our attention, and set off towards us at full gallop.
“At least you can wait till those men reach us,” he said, and his tone
and face showed his suspicions that something was wrong.
Thus in a moment the position had developed into one of fresh
embarrassment and imminent peril for me.