THE RUINED HUT
The two soldiers mistook me vastly if they thought I was going to allow
myself to be caught in this way like a rat in a trap, when the trap was
a mile long, and the door of it guarded so loosely.
I had backed my horse to prevent the man on foot catching hold of the
bridle-rein, and, wheeling round swiftly, I plunged my hand into my
pocket, drew out my revolver, and, before the second soldier could
guess my intention, I sent a bullet into his horse’s head.
He dropped like a stone, sending his rider flying on to the road, his
carbine, which he had levelled at me, going off in the air as he fell.
The other made a rush at me, but I covered him with the pistol.
“How dare you try to stop me on State business?” I cried in a voice of
thunder. “Another step and I’ll blow your brains out.”
He pulled up short enough at that, and I clapped my heels into the
horse’s flanks, and was off like the wind. He was a good beast, in
excellent condition and very fresh, and more than fit to carry me
the six miles which I reckoned lay between me and the frontier. The
distance was so short that I had no need to spare him, and, as I had
over three-quarters of a mile start, I did not doubt that I could win a
race in which my safety and probably my life were the stakes.
I was in luck, too, for the soldier before dismounting had thrust back
his carbine into its leathern shoe, and in among his saddle-furniture I
found a reserve supply of ammunition.
Turning in my saddle I saw that the three soldiers had passed the two
with whom I had had the tussle, and were galloping after me at full
speed, striving might and main to lessen the distance between us, and
I knew, of course, that old Kolfort had given them his most imperative
command to overtake and capture me at all costs.
But a few minutes of this hot work showed me that I was better mounted
than they, and that I was gaining. They perceived this, too, and
resorted to a tactic which gave me some uneasiness. One after another
they began firing their carbines, not of course at me, for I was
hopelessly out of range, but in the hope of attracting any other patrol
parties who might chance to be in the neighbourhood.
This was by no means to my taste. It suggested that they knew there
were more troops about, and while I dug my heels into my willing
horse’s sides, and urged him with my voice to still greater speed, I
cast ahead many anxious looks.
A minute later, too, I was thrown into a state of much perplexity as to
my road. About half a mile in front the road forked, and I did not know
whether my way lay to the right or left, and had no time to consult the
plan of route. It would have been fatal to hesitate, however, and I was
going to leave my horse to settle the matter for himself, trusting that
he might have been stabled somewhere near the frontier and would thus
make for that point, when a very disquieting fact decided me.
A couple of troopers were riding at a quick trot along the road to the
left, and coming in my direction. They were at a considerable distance,
and I should reach the junction long before them. I determined to trust
to fortune and take the other road.
They soon caught sight of me, and as the men pursuing me kept up their
fire, the two in front hustled their horses into a gallop, evidently
thinking something was wrong, and intending to cut me off and stop me.
They saw me turn into the right road, checked their horses, leapt into
the fields, and came galloping across to intercept me. This was not
practicable, however, because the point for which they were making was
nearer to me by the road than to them by the fields, and after they had
galloped half across the fields they called to me to stop. Perceiving
my advantage, my answer was to urge my horse forward, till he was
straining every nerve and flying over the ground like the gallant beast
he was.
Then one of them reined up suddenly, and being well within range, he
sat as steady as a rock on his horse, levelled his piece, and fired.
Fortunately for me he was quite as bad a marksman as the majority of
such men are, and the bullet whistled harmlessly by me as I dashed
past at the same headlong speed. His companion had, however, come much
nearer, and when he found he could not intercept me, he too halted and
fired after me in his turn.
He also missed me, but I felt my horse give a violent change in his
stride, and immediately begin to slacken speed. I looked around
anxiously and found, to my intense alarm and consternation, that he was
wounded, and had gone dead lame on his off hind leg.
For the first time I was inclined to despair. Behind me were five
well-mounted men eagerly bent on my capture, and before me lay at least
three miles of unknown road--even supposing that I was riding in the
right direction--while my horse was already beginning to stagger in his
stride. But my blood was up. I would not be taken alive, and I resolved
to fight so long as I could lift a finger in self-defence.
Flight was now out of the question, however. Wounded as he was, my
horse could not have carried me to the frontier had I been able to ease
his pace, which was of course impossible. I could fight better on foot
than on the back of a wounded horse, moreover, and I began to think
desperately of my best course.
I drew out the trooper’s carbine, put the ammunition into my pockets,
and looked about for the most likely spot for a last stand. About half
a mile ahead of me I spied a peasant’s cottage half in ruins, lying a
little distance from the lane. Just the place for me! I urged my horse
to the last effort, and he answered gallantly, as if he understood how
dire was my need. But he was reeling badly when we reached the spot I
was heading for; and the two men behind raised a glad shout as they saw
me pull up, slip from the horse, and make a dash, carbine in hand, for
the cover of the ruined cottage.
They both fired at me as I ran, a cowardly act that filled me with
rage. Hitherto I had tried to avoid shedding blood, but I sent that
thought to the winds now as I sprang behind the shelter of the welcome
walls and turned to settle accounts with them. Armed as I was, I
believed I could for a time hold the place against a party twice as
strong as that which was coming against me, and I was so mad in my
rage and disappointment, that I swore I would shoot without mercy any
living soul that came within range.
The two soldiers came galloping up to the point where my horse had
now fallen, and they stood chuckling at the successful shot which had
wounded him.
I singled out one of them--the man who, as I thought, had fired the
fatal shot--took deliberate aim, and fired. He dropped like a stone,
and his companion turned instantly and scuttled back to meet the other
three, who were now closing up fast. I smiled grimly as I thrust in
another cartridge, and was turning to look for the next quarry when my
heart gave another throb of dismay.
The place seemed alive with troops; and I saw another horseman coming
from the opposite direction along the lane towards the cottage, and
I did not doubt that he was the advance guard of a stronger patrol
following behind.
The four men had halted out of range and were talking excitedly
together, and I was thus at liberty to watch the newcomer, whose
movements puzzled me considerably. When he heard the shot from my gun,
and probably saw the smoke, instead of dashing forward to join the men
threatening me, or falling back upon any party behind, he scuttled off
the road and concealed himself in a small clump of trees, from which he
seemed to be scanning the cottage where I lay. No trooper out on patrol
would have acted so, and I concluded promptly that he was in some such
condition as myself, and as eager as I to escape the attentions of the
soldiers.
Could it be possible that he was a friend? The mere thought of such a
chance in my desperate position filled me with excited pleasure, and,
stepping forward, I stood so that the sun’s rays fell right on me as I
faced him, and I waved my hand. I thought he made some motion with his
hand in reply, but he stood in the shadow of the trees, and was too far
off for me to see him clearly. Then I waved my hand again, beckoning
him to come to me, and had time to do no more before the four soldiers
began to move, and I had to step back under shelter and watch them.
Apparently they had resolved to make a dash for the cottage, in the
endeavour to capture me with a rush. But they should never reach the
place alive. I calculated that I should have time for two shots with
the carbine and half-a-dozen more with my revolver, and if I could not
empty the four saddles my hand and eye and nerve had lost their cunning
indeed.
They crossed into the field, and seeing that there were no windows in
the end of the building from which I could fire upon them, they kept
out of range until they were in a line with the end, and then began
their advance. A shrewd enough plan, had I been a fool to be caught
unawares, or a coward afraid to expose myself to their rickety fire.
But I was neither, and creeping out at the front I was in a position to
take a kneeling shot at them before they started the advance. I don’t
think they even saw me, for there was a relic of what had once been a
palisade projecting from the end of the house, which gave an excellent
cover, and I waited till they were well within range before I fired.
One of them fell forward, and I had reloaded and was taking careful aim
for my second shot, when with a loud shout they pulled up hastily and
made ready to fire in their turn.
I didn’t give them time to shoot before I fired again, and again
brought one of them out of his saddle. This reduced the number
to two, and neither of them had any relish for the business. They
discharged their pieces at random, wheeled about suddenly, and galloped
back faster than they had advanced. I had given them an excellent
object-lesson in the value of good shooting, and I stood watching them
in moody curiosity to see what they would do next.
Then I heard the sound of a galloping horse from the other end of the
cottage, and when I ran back quickly to learn the cause I had indeed a
joyful surprise. It was the horseman I had seen in the distance.
“Took you in the rear, Count,” said a deep voice I knew so well; and
the next instant Zoiloff and I stood hand-locked, his stern face aglow
with pleasure and I with more delight in my heart than either words or
eyes could tell. Never could a friend have been so welcome, and none
more welcome than Zoiloff. I was so moved that I could not even find
words to ask the news which I was burning to learn. He saw this, and
said:
“All is well with the Princess. She is safe at Nish, waiting for you.”
I wrung his hand afresh in my delight.
“Never did beleaguered force hear better news,” I said.
“The beleaguered force is doubled now,” he answered, smiling. “Though I
can’t say it seems to need strengthening, judging by results. But now
we had best be off, for the country between here and the frontier is
like a rabbit-warren with the swarming troops. We shall probably have
to hide, for we can’t hold this place till nightfall, and I very much
doubt if we can get through the pass in daylight.”
“I have a permit that will carry us through,” I said; “but I have no
horse to carry it on.”
“I’ll soon mend that,” he answered, and without a word he mounted again
and set off at a gallop toward the two soldiers, who stood together
holding the horses of their wounded comrades by the bridles. What
followed was a gleam of farce in the tragedy that surrounded us. The
men seeing him coming were instantly filled with alarm, for my work had
told its tale well enough on their nerves, and after making a show of
resistance and firing their carbines at him with scarcely a pretence of
taking aim, they plunged their spurs into their animals and shot away
trying to lead the other horses with them. But Zoiloff gained at every
stride, and when he fired his revolver after them they cast off the
led horses and themselves fled for their lives in sheer scatterbrained
fright. He had no difficulty in capturing one of the horses, and came
cantering back to me smiling and victorious.
“What rabbits,” he said contemptuously.
“What a happy thought of yours,” I replied, as I mounted, and we stole
off, keeping the cottage between us and the still flying soldiers.
“Shall we make a dash for it and risk everything; or shall we try and
hide? Those curs will soon be after us with a larger pack in full cry,
and we may find it difficult to hide.”
“We’ll push straight for the frontier,” I answered, “and trust to old
Kolfort’s signature to get us through. The patrols seem to be in very
small numbers, and if there’s any trouble we can show fight. But now
tell me what has happened, for I am on fire with impatience to hear
everything.”
“Happily there’s little enough to tell, for by some means we managed
to escape all interference, and under your fellow Markov’s guidance
we reached the frontier without let or question. There was plenty of
uneasiness after we left you as to whether we should be pursued; but
thanks, I suppose, to your ruse, we were not followed, and the only
trouble afterwards was in the frontier pass. It was only watched in the
loosest manner in the world, and as Markov knew his business thoroughly
he had us all past the lookout before they had even a suspicion of
our presence. It was only a matter of a quick gallop then for a bit
and we got through. I went on to Nish with the Princess, who was much
fatigued of course, and it was at her urgent request, when you did not
come yesterday, that I returned to see if I could hear any tidings of
you. My uniform saved me from any trouble, and I was intending to go
to Sofia, when I heard the firing and stopped to see what it meant, I
saw you stand out in the sun glare just now, and though I could not
definitely recognise you at such a distance I made a guess it was you,
and rode up on the chance.”
“You left the Princess well?”
“In all save her anxiety for you; and that we may hope to remove in a
few hours now. But how have you fared?”
I told him the story, and he listened with many an approving smile and
nod, looking stern and serious at the story of the Countess Bokara’s
suicide, and laughing at the trick I had served old Kolfort.
“After all that, we are not going to be stopped now,” he said at the
close; “although we shall have need of clear heads and perhaps quick
hands before we are through. But we shall know soon. You see that
narrow road climbing the hill yonder, with that small station-house
about half-way up. Well, the frontier line runs close ahead of that;”
and he pointed to the spot. “Hullo! who comes?” he added a minute
later, as we turned a bend of the road and came upon two or three
horse-soldiers.
We were riding at a brisk canter, and did not rein up until they
challenged us. Seeing Zoiloff’s uniform they saluted him, but the
leader turned to me and asked for my permit.
“I am on special service,” I said quietly, producing the permit.
He read it, returned it to me, drew back for us to proceed, and we
cantered on without having wasted a minute.
“You had your wits about you when you got that paper,” said Zoiloff,
laughing. “If those fellows had only known what that special service
was, we should have had a brush with them. Let’s hope that those at the
barrier will be as easily satisfied.”
“It’s a nasty-looking road,” said I, when we reached the foot of the
long tortuous hill. “We’d better spare the cattle in case of a bother,”
and we pulled up to a walking pace. I scanned the station-house closely
as we came in sight of it.
“I wish to Heaven it was night. We could steal up that path there,”
said Zoiloff, pointing to the right of the road. “That’s how Markov
managed it. It leads out again about twenty or thirty yards on this
side of the station-house yonder, and we rattled through at a gallop.”
“How many men are stationed there, do you think?”
“I couldn’t see more than half-a-dozen or so all told this morning when
I passed, and I stopped intentionally and chatted with the officer in
command. But in a narrow place like this six men can do a lot.”
“I see there’s a telegraph-wire. I hope the General hasn’t managed to
send a message,” I returned uneasily.
“I should think not, judging by the ease with which those men below
there were satisfied. But I mean to get through. Once past the
station-house, and we haven’t more than two or three hundred yards to
gallop before we’re in Servia. But I confess I never thought of the
telegraph,” and Zoiloff shook his head.
“Well, we’ll try the papers first and the pistols afterwards, in case
of need. And they won’t find it easy to stop us.”
But as we drew closer I saw what Zoiloff meant about the ease with
which a handful of resolute men could hold such a spot.
“They’ve turned out to receive us,” he said, as we saw an officer
posting men to block the road. “He won’t attempt to stop me, I expect,
and while you’re showing him your permit I’ll edge past and try to
get the men out of their order so as to leave a gap for you to dash
through. Then I’ll follow you, and they may hesitate about firing on
me.”
“Very well; but we can’t make much of a plan. Probably I may find it
best to appear to yield at first and then wait for the moment to make
the rush;” and with that we rode on slowly, watching the men ahead
of us closely, but laughing and chatting together as though the last
thought in our heads was of any chance of being stopped. And we were
both laughing heartily as at some joke when the officer in command met
Zoiloff with a salute and turned to address me.
“Your permit, sir, if you please,” he said courteously, but as I
thought with a glance of suspicion.
“Certainly,” I replied, and I took it out and handed it to him. As
he read it Zoiloff pushed forward and entered into conversation with
the men. There were only five of them, making six with the officer,
as Zoiloff had said, and they were on foot. I saw him push his horse
between the two at the end of the short line, and then as he chatted he
coolly turned his horse broadside on the road, thus making a big gap.
It was cleverly done, and he sat there saying something which made the
men laugh.
“This mentions no name, sir,” said the officer, looking up from the
paper. “May I inquire your name?”
“Certainly. I am the Hon. Gerald Winthrop, an Englishman.” The reply
perplexed him.
“An Englishman? And on special service for General Kolfort? I don’t
wish to appear impertinent, but have you another name?”
“I am also a Roumanian Count--Count Benderoff.”
“Ah!” His tone told me at once that he had had some instructions about
me, and I began to prepare for emergencies. “I am placed in an awkward
position, Count, but I’m afraid I cannot allow you to pass.”
“My business is very urgent, lieutenant.”
“The delay will probably be only a brief one. I am expecting a
messenger from General Kolfort, and I thought you were probably from
him. No doubt the moment he arrives you will be at liberty to proceed.
But you’ll understand my position.”
“The consequences of stopping me may be serious.”
“So may be those of allowing you to pass, Count. But in any case I have
no alternative.”
“But I have ridden straight from General Kolfort himself, who handed me
the permit personally.”
“My instructions have come over the wires, and within the last few
minutes; and they are imperative not to allow you to pass until the
General himself or those he is sending shall arrive. If you will
dismount I will try to make the delay as little irksome as possible,
though one’s resources in a God-forsaken place like this are not
abundant.”
“Do you mean you wish to arrest me?” I asked quickly.
“Certainly not. You are at liberty to return if you please; my
instructions are merely not to allow you to pass the frontier.”
“Quiet, mare!” I called to my horse, which was fidgeting and plunging
restlessly, as I touched her secretly with my heel, making it difficult
for him to lay his hand on the bridle. Then I laughed as if the thing
were a joke, and I gave Zoiloff a look. He understood it, and began to
edge his horse so as to leave room for me to pass.
“It’s very ridiculous,” I said to the officer, who had drawn a little
away from me, “but I suppose there’s no help for it; and in any case I
shall be glad of some breakfast.”
“I shall be delighted to be your host,” he replied, without a suspicion
of my intention; and he called to one of the men to come and hold my
horse.
This made the gap in their rank larger than ever; and, causing my
horse to fidget and strain at the bit, I suddenly slackened the reins,
plunged my heels into her flanks, and darted away up the hill as fast
as she could gallop.
“Hallo! She’s run away with him!” said Zoiloff; and he wheeled round
and dashed after me.
It was some seconds before the officer realised how we had fooled him.
Then we heard the order given to fire after us, and the next instant
the report of the guns rang out, echoing and re-echoing among the crags
on either side of the narrow gorge.
The bullets whistled by me; and, glancing back, I saw that Zoiloff was
following all right. A second volley was fired, but not until we had
already passed the frontier; and I did not draw rein till I was nearly
to the crest of the hill and within sight of the Servian station-house
over the crest. Then I found that Zoiloff was not so close to me as he
should have been, and I halted to wait for him. Below him I saw the
officer and two of the men had mounted and were in hot pursuit.
Zoiloff was leaning forward curiously in the saddle, sitting very
loosely, and his horse could hardly move. I rode back to him, filled
with alarm.
He looked up as I neared, and I saw his face was bloodless. He tried to
wave to me to go forward, but his hand fell listlessly.
“Are you wounded, friend?” I asked.
“No--at least not much. Go on!” he said, his voice weak and faint; and
his horse was staggering so that I thought it would fall. Meanwhile the
men behind were coming up quickly.
“Come on to my horse,” I cried, my heart sick with pain and fear
for him, as I rode to his side and tried to lift him off. But at
that moment his horse went down heavily, and only with the greatest
difficulty did I save Zoiloff from an ugly fall.
In a moment I dismounted. There was no time now to mount with him on my
horse, so I laid him under cover of his own fallen animal and turned
with bitter rage in my heart to check the men behind us, as well as to
revenge the hurt of my staunch friend, who had given himself to save me.
Snatching the carbine from my saddle, I knelt down, and, firing over
the prone horse, I aimed at the foremost rider, who fell in a huddled
mass on to his horse’s shoulder and then dropped to the ground.
I was ramming home another cartridge as the other two halted and took
aim. I crouched under shelter of the horse, and felt him quiver and
kick feebly as one of the bullets plugged into him; and then the men
came dashing forward again.
But not for many strides, for my second shot sent the officer toppling
out of his saddle heavily to the rough road. I loaded again instantly,
for the sight of Zoiloff’s death-white face and the thought of his
wound maddened me so that I could have killed a dozen men in cold blood
to avenge him.
The remaining trooper had little stomach for any further fight,
however, and he reined up and stood irresolute.
“Go back, if you care for your life,” I called to him. “We are on
Servian ground, and you have no right to pursue me.” He was afraid for
his own skin to come on, and yet afraid for duty’s sake to turn back,
and I saw him open his carbine at the breech to reload.
I did not give him time to do that, however, before I fired. I missed
the man, but struck his weapon, shattering it in his hand. This was
much more convincing than any words, and, recognising his unarmed
helplessness, he wheeled his horse round and rode off back down the
hill.
I had won; but what a price had the victory cost!
I bent over my wounded friend, my heart sick with my grief.
“Fly!” he whispered. Wounded sorely as he was, his thoughts were all
for me and none for himself.
“There is no need, my dear friend. There’s no one to follow us. Can you
bear for me to lift you on to my horse? We’re safe.”
“I’m glad. I’m not hurt much,” he whispered, trying to smile.
I lifted him in my arms, and, drawing my horse to a stone by the side
of the road, managed to mount with him; and then, saving him all in my
power from the jolting of the horse, I walked up the rest of the hill
and over to the Servian station-house.
The men turned out to meet us.
“My friend is sorely wounded,” said I.
“I heard the firing, but my orders are not to interfere,” said the
officer in command.
“The outrage was committed on Servian territory,” I replied.
“I have strict orders not to cause any trouble with the Bulgarians just
at present,” he said, as if by way of apologetic explanation of his not
having come to my aid. “We don’t inquire too closely into what is done
east of the station-house.”
“Can you give me a place where my friend can rest?”
He looked uneasy at the question and hesitated.
“Can’t he bear any further journey?”
“He is badly wounded, sir,” I returned, with some indignation.
“I can do better than give him a bed here. My men shall carry him on a
litter down to the village at the foot of the hill, where there is a
priest who knows something of surgery, and he can get medical aid.”
“As quick as you can, for God’s sake!” I said.
Poor Zoiloff had fainted, and lay helpless in my arms, his head resting
on my shoulder.
The men lifted him gently off the horse, the litter was brought out,
and I helped to place him in it.
“I’m afraid I needn’t ask for his papers,” said the officer, as the men
moved off.
I showed him my English passport, as clearing the way for me, and, with
a mere glance at it, he returned it.
“I hope you will have better news than I fear of your friend,” he said
warmly.
I could not answer him; I was too broken with this new trouble. I
followed the mournful little procession, and I am not ashamed to say
that as I watched it and gazed at the white face in the litter my eyes
were more than once half blinded by tears.