CHAPTER THE TWENTY-EIGHTH

  THE LAST FIGHT

  Lawrence landed in the twilight on his platform. All sounds of combathad ceased. His first care was to see exactly how much petrol was left.There was enough for about twenty minutes' flight: then the aeroplanewould be doomed to inactivity.

  "Look over the machine," he said to Fazl, "and come after me when youhave finished. What did you mean about Nurla Bai?"

  "He has gone into the river, even as he sent the huzur."

  "You shot him? But no: you did not fire. What happened?"

  "He came along with us, sahib. He caught the chassis as we rose, and wewere gone before he could let go. He clung to the stay. I cut himdown."

  Lawrence's blood ran cold with horror. In spite of the man'sbrutalities and crimes, he could not but feel moved by the terrible fatethat had befallen the revolted miner. It was well deserved: yetLawrence wished that Nurla could have met his death in open fight. Hesaid no more to Fazl, but went along the pathway now enwrapt indarkness, to discover what had happened during his absence, and to givethe garrison his promise of relief.

  The compounds were deserted. No lights were visible. At first hethought that the men must already have taken refuge in the galleries;but as he came to the end of the pathway he saw them all grouped at therear of the house under the cliff, behind a mound of tailings. Theywere very silent. Only a sound like a multitudinous sigh broke fromthem when he drew near.

  "Where's my brother?" he asked anxiously, as Gur Buksh saluted.

  "Here, sahib: he is hurt."

  The group parted, and Lawrence saw Bob with his head and one armbandaged, reclining in a long chair.

  "Nothing very serious, I hope," said Bob with a smile, as Lawrence bentover him. "A bullet in my arm just below the shoulder, and a whack inthe skull from a splinter of rock. Any news, old chap!"

  "Yes, thank God! Endicott himself is within less than thirty miles,with three or four hundred men, field pieces and mountain batteries.There's a medico with him, so we'll soon put you to rights."

  "Tell the men, will you?"

  Lawrence gathered the men about him and quickly gave the information. Acompany of British soldiers would have received it with a ringing cheer:these Asiatics merely murmured praises to Allah, mingled with triumphantexecrations of the enemy.

  "It'll be as much as we can do to hold out until the Major arrives,"said Bob in a low tone. "Is he coming on at once?"

  "No, unluckily. His horses were dead beat: he said they must have threeor four hours' rest, and I'm afraid he can't be here until four or fiveo'clock in the morning at the earliest. But he has sent someammunition, and a dozen men are coming in advance on a raft; they shouldarrive about three o'clock. I intend to meet them a little way up, andbring them in on the aeroplane. I've just enough petrol left."

  "That's good. We're practically helpless here. They've knocked thewall about with their field pieces from the breastwork, and smashed themachine gun. We couldn't hold the wall any longer. The carbide hasgiven out, so that we can't make any more acetylene for the searchlight,and the track's free for them now. I only hope that as they've forcedthe passage they won't trouble us any more, but go straight ahead in themorning. They little suspect what's in store for them!"

  "They may possibly leave us alone, but they're hardly human if theydon't try a shot or two at the aeroplane, especially when they discoverwhat has happened to their own."

  "What did happen to it, by the way?"

  Lawrence described the incidents of the manoeuvring up and down river,and the extraordinary scene at the turning-place. It was then that heand Bob argued about the cause of the final collapse, almost forgettingtheir actual circumstances in discussing the scientific problem. Theywere suddenly recalled to realities, however, by sounds from theopposite bank--the ringing clatter of horses' hoofs and the rumble ofwheels.

  "They're moving their guns up," said Bob. "No doubt they've only beenwaiting for the dark. Listen! We shall soon know what they mean todo."

  Both chafed at their inability to impose any check upon the movement.Rifle fire from their few men would be ineffective in the darkness; itwould moreover be a signal to the gunners to sweep the wall with shell.They were not long in doubt as to the enemy's intentions. The noisesceased. It was clear that the Kalmucks were going to wreak vengeanceupon the garrison of the mine before continuing their march up stream.Bob recalled the old military maxim: never leave an enemy in your rear.At dawn they would no doubt open fire from the guns placed exactlyopposite the mine, and as soon as they discovered the aeroplane on itsplatform beyond the shoulder of the cliff they would smash it to atoms.

  "I've still a few bombs left," said Lawrence. "I might destroy theirguns if I could only see them. Isn't there enough acetylene for tenminutes' light, Bob?"

  "Not for one, worse luck. You certainly can't do anything in the dark.There's just one chance, though."

  "What's that?"

  "You could light a big fire on the buttress yonder. It might show justenough light for the purpose."

  "I'll try it. I tell you what: I'll fire the shed itself, with a lot ofcombustibles inside. We can easily build another afterwards if Endicottgets rid of the enemy."

  "We shan't want to do that. If we're alive to-morrow morning we shan'tthink of staying here any longer."

  "Leave the mine, you mean?"

  "Yes: take poor old Uncle's silver ore to India and sell it for whatit's worth. I don't know how much that will be, but it ought to give usenough money to keep us while we're looking round for some other job:I've had enough of mining. In any case we couldn't stay here. The placewould remind us too much of Uncle and all the tragic horrors."

  "You're right: though I don't like the idea of caving in. Now I'll getsome of the men to carry grease and things to the shed. Can Chunda giveme some grub? I'm very hungry."

  "We've got all our provisions either here or in the galleries. We werevery lucky to have so much; it will last for two or three weeks more."

  While Lawrence made his supper, Fyz Ali and three or four other Pathansconveyed to the platform combustibles of all kinds, returning with theammunition sent by Major Endicott. Then Bob insisted on Lawrence'ssleeping for a few hours. About three o'clock in the morning Lawrencereturned with Fazl to the aeroplane. They kindled several fires in theshed, leaving the door open. When the flames gave them light enough,they started the engine and flew off up the river, hearing sounds ofcommotion among the enemy on the track. Never having flown by nightbefore, Lawrence was rather nervous; but he reached the turning-placesafely, wheeled round without mishap, and flew northwards into thestretch of a few hundred yards now illuminated by the blazing shed.

  There were four bombs left. Lawrence had instructed Fazl to drop two asthey passed over the guns, reserving the other two for use as theyreturned if they should discover that the first had not been effective.They saw two guns placed on the track just opposite the bridge. TheGurkha, leaning over perilously, let fall two bombs together. There wasa terrific crash and a babel of yells; but they could not yet tell whatdamage had been done. The aeroplane was beyond the illuminated area,and Lawrence had to concentrate his attention on the machine as he flewnorthwards in the darkness. He felt that he could not risk an attemptto turn until he reached the wide space seven miles down stream, and hewas very anxious lest the engine should fail for want of petrol beforehe could get back. It was quite clear that to bring Major Endicott'sadvanced party of twelve into the mine was now impossible. By the timethe aeroplane should have reached its platform, if it did so, everyounce of fuel would be used up.

  For safety's sake he rose to a considerable height. The grey light ofdawn was stealing over the summits of the hills. He turned and flewback, watching the engine nervously. As soon as he came to theneighbourhood of the mine, he saw the enemy scuttling away from thetrack into nooks and crannies in the face of the cliff. The sound ofthe p
ropeller had been the signal for a general _sauve qui peut_. Fazldropped his last two bombs opposite the bridge, and then the aeroplanepassed into the cloud of smoke drifting up and across the river from theconflagration.

  Lawrence saw that the petrol would not last another three minutes. Heutilised the expiring power of the engine to rise still higher, so thatwhen it failed he would be at a sufficient altitude to make a long volplane back to his platform. He had just turned when he detected alessening of power. The engine began to splutter; then it ceased towork.

  It was a terrifying moment. In the darkness he could not read theaneroid that indicated his altitude. He did not know whether the angleof the descent which had already begun would bring him to earth beforehe reached the platform. Gently, easily as the machine swooped down, itmight land him on the track where he would be completely at the mercy ofthe enemy. He looked anxiously ahead. The flaming shed came in sight,but dimmed by the pall of smoke that lay over the bottom of the gorge.He steered into the smoke towards the platform, but, half blinded by thereek, he missed it, and only by a sudden movement of the lever, that wasitself almost disastrous, did he save the machine from dashing againstthe cliff. Luckily the smoke hid him from the enemy. By anotherdexterous feat of steering he rounded the bend, and in a few secondsdropped with a quivering shock upon the fence that separated thePathans' from the Kalmucks' compound. With every nerve jarring hesprang out of his seat. Fazl followed him, and between them theydragged the aeroplane from its uneasy perch and laid it behind thefence. Even now his chief thought was to protect from the enemy's firethe machine which had served him so well. Only when it was quiteinvisible to them did he hasten across the compound, scale the secondfence in the darkness, and rejoin his brother in the sheltered nookbehind the house.

  "Just managed it!" he panted, throwing himself down. "The enginefailed; I missed the platform, and came down on the fence. The chassisis rather rumpled, but no other damage done. I should have been wild ifthe machine had come utterly to grief."

  "It's more important that you're safe, old boy," said Bob. "Did yousucceed?"

  "Morning will show. Fazl declares that he hit the guns; I don't know.I wish I could have brought those men of Endicott's in. I dare say theyheard me as I passed over the track, and are wondering why I didn't comedown for them."

  "We can't help it. I only hope the Major himself started in time."

  Dawn was stealing down into the valley. Ganda Singh crept on all foursto the wall and peeped over. In a few minutes he returned and reportedthat there was nothing opposite the bridge but a mass of broken rock andmetal. The guns had been destroyed. But the Kalmucks were scatteredalong the track between the bridge and the bend, crouching behind rocksand entrenchments which they had thrown up during the night. Apparentlythey were unaware of the descent of the aeroplane, and dreaded anotherattack by bombs.

  It was hardly light when a fierce bombardment broke out from the bend.Shells crashed upon the northern wall, and whistled into the desertedcompounds, scattering earth in all directions, and filling the air withnoisome fumes.

  "We're safe here for the present," said Bob, whose face looked pinchedand pale in the light of the morning. "But when they find we don'treply, and there's no other attack from the aeroplane, they'll bringtheir guns along and pound us from the opposite bank. When it gets toohot we must go into the galleries. Before they can repair the bridge andcross, Endicott ought to be here."

  He had scarcely spoken when a shell plumped into the house, and set iton fire. The garrison were enveloped in a mantle of smoke. But as thesmoke drifted across the river, the Kalmucks, taking courage from thequiescence of the defenders, rushed forward from their shelters andbegan to throw a light framework over the torrent between the rock inmidstream and the end of the ruined bridge. The sudden cessation of thebombardment gave Bob an inkling of what was to come; next moment loudyells from beyond the river made it clear.

  "They're coming at us," he said quietly to Lawrence. "They must havemade a bridge. We can't retreat now. You must do your best, old chap."

  Though Lawrence begged him to remain on his chair, Bob got up andaccompanied the little band as they rushed towards the river wall tomeet the storming party. They were no more than thirty; the trackswarmed with the enemy. The improvised bridge would not support morethan thirty at a time, so that the attackers and the defenders of thewall were equal in point of number; but the Kalmucks had posted manysharpshooters in the rocks above the track, who could fire over theircomrades' heads and pick off the garrison manning the wall and the gapwhere the end of the drawbridge had been.

  It was a fierce and terrible struggle hand to hand. The defenders coulddeal only with the storming party; they had no leisure to attend to thehalf-concealed marksmen among the rocks. With bayonet, clubbed rifle,sword and miner's pick they sought desperately to stem the attack. GurBuksh had distributed the Sikhs among the miners to give themsteadiness; but the Pathans, inspired by the fury of their own leaders,Fyz Ali and Muhammad Din, needed no encouragement from the disciplinedmen. Shan Tai and Chunda Beg had thrown themselves into the fray withpicks. Of all the little community only Ditta Lai and the Bengaliservants remained in the rear; they were physically unfit to bear a partin the great fight. It was much to their credit that, at this crisis inaffairs, they did not cower in frantic terror, but toiled hard to raisea rampart of boxes, tins, and bags of earth opposite the mouth of thegallery.

  Regardless of the fusillade, Bob and Lawrence went from end to end ofthe line, cheering the men, rallying them when they showed signs ofbeing forced back by the onrush of the yelling enemy. Again and againthe assault was beaten back. At one moment the end of the bridge washeaped high with the men thrust back from the wall. The river receivedmany dead and wounded forms, and bore down some who, though unhurt, hadbeen hurled or jostled off the bridge. But the garrison were droppingman by man. Gur Buksh, conspicuous by his height, fell to a bullet.Ganda Singh fought on, though a bayonet had transfixed his arm. Fyz Aliwas shot as he was in the act of bringing the butt of his rifle downupon the head of a big Kalmuck who was forcing his way through thenarrow gap into the compound. Bob, fainting from his former hurts, sankdown unconscious among his wounded men. As yet unscathed, Lawrencestood in the gap, and the number of prostrate forms in front of him borewitness to his unfaltering vigour. Next to him Fazl, whose low staturerendered him immune from the sniping shots of the enemy, darted forthwhenever he saw an opportunity of using his kukuri, and sprang nimblyback before he could be touched.

  But Lawrence's heart sank as he saw his devoted little band becomingless and less. He had no reserves. There was no limit to the numberthat the enemy could throw against him. The crowd on the bridge neverdiminished. As soon as one man fell his place was taken from behind.From sheer exhaustion the defenders could not stem the torrent manyminutes longer. Their arms were aching and numbed almost to the pointof paralysis. The frequent alarms and broken rest of seven days andnights were telling on their hardy frames. Lawrence, swinging his riflelike a flail, expected at every stroke that his muscles would refuse tolift the weapon for another. Missing Bob's cheering cries, he gave arapid glance round, and seeing his brother on the ground, he was justmaking up his mind that the time had come for a general retreat to thegalleries, their last line of defence, when there came the suddencrackle of rifles from a new direction. It was on the right. There wasa cheer, very different from the shrill cries of the Kalmucks, and thenconfused cries all around. The firing from the rocks had ceased. At asecond volley the Kalmucks on the bridge halted in surprise andhesitation. Lawrence guessed what had happened. Seizing the moment, heshouted to his men to follow him, and springing from the wall, led themin a fierce rush on to the bridge. They swept the enemy before them,cutting down one, tumbling another into the stream.

  On the track a disorderly terrified crowd were rushing past the bridgetowards the north, masking the fire of their own guns at the bend.Behind them at a gallop came fifty sowa
rs of the Border force, led byMajor Endicott himself. They swept on through the panic-stricken mob,upon whom, as the horsemen passed, the garrison from their post on thebridge opened a withering fire. Major Endicott and his troopers pushedon and on, driving the enemy, some before them, some into the river,some up the rugged hillside. They did not halt until they reached theguns. There were a few minutes of desperate fighting about them; thenthe gunners were cut down, and the swarms behind were in full flightdown the track. At a word from the Major half the sowars leapt fromtheir horses, slewed the guns round, and sent shell after shell amongthe frenzied crowd until the whole track within sight was clear ofliving men. And Bob woke to consciousness to hear his brother's voicelead the men in a ringing cheer. The mine was saved; the enemy had beenheld in check for a week; every man had done his duty.

  CHAPTER THE TWENTY-NINTH

  REUNION

  Major Endicott left his men at the bend, and galloped back to thebridge. Dismounting there, he pressed Lawrence's hand warmly.

  "Well played, sir!" he said. "Where's your brother?"

  "In the compound, Major. He's all right, I think: that is, he wasn'thit this morning; but he was wounded yesterday, and is rather offcolour."

  "The doctor will be up in a few minutes. He was just behind me; andFenton will arrive with the rest of the men and the guns in about anhour. I pushed on ahead when I heard the bombardment."

  "Just in time! We couldn't have held out another five minutes."

  "I'm glad we managed it," said the Major simply.

  "Come and see Bob. They've burnt our house, and we can't make you verycomfortable."

  "My dear boy, comfort is ruin to a soldier. Ah! here's Coats; he'dbetter have a look at your brother at once."

  The doctor rode up with another score of troopers. These the Majorordered to remain on guard at the bridge, in case the Kalmucks who werestill scattered here and there on the track and the hillside should showany disposition to rally. Then the two officers crossed with Lawrenceinto the compound. Bob had been carried back to his chair by Shan Taiand the khansaman. The doctor made a brief examination of his wounds,got out some lint and lotion, and as he bandaged him declared that hewould be quite sound in a few days. Then he went off to attend to theother wounded--almost every man of the little company. Ten had beenkilled outright; two were so severely injured that recovery washopeless; the rest would be well sooner or later. Among these were FyzAli and Gur Buksh, though the Sikh's arm had to be amputated.

  "I was never so glad of anything as I am to hand things over to you,Major," said Bob.

  Major Endicott was seated on an upturned box beside his chair, with abiscuit in one hand and a hunk of corned beef in the other.

  "Well, you know, I feel rather mean," he said munching. "Capital stuff,this! ... All the credit is yours and Lawrence's, and I shan't fail tosay so. It's a thousand pities you are not both in the service. By theway, I saw as I came up that your aeroplane had come to grief, and itwas a great relief to see Lawrence safe and sound."

  "It wasn't ours," replied Bob, who then related in brief the events ofthe previous day.

  "That's amazing. Then I suppose Lawrence can still use your machine forscouting if necessary?"

  "We've no more petrol, unfortunately. What do you intend to do, then?"

  "First of all secure our position here as soon as Fenton comes up.We'll make it impossible for the enemy to get round that bend yonder.Then we'll follow up the runaways and shepherd them out of the valley."

  "There's such a lot of them, and you've so few!"

  "But they can't extend on this narrow track, and my few will be a matchfor them. They'll soon give it up as hopeless, and draw off to rejointheir huge army operating in Afghanistan. This week's delay has beenour salvation. The Chief is moving up a large force to hold the passessouth, and our flank is secure--a handsome feather in your cap, my lad.When I am sure that the valley is clear I shall return to the frontier,and of course you and your men must come too. You won't want to hold onhere now that your poor uncle is gone?"

  "No: we had already made up our minds to that."

  "I don't want to be inquisitive, but--er--have you--in short, what'syour financial position, Bob?"

  "I don't know. We had very little money, of course; everything in thehouse is burnt, including Uncle's cheque book, and all his papers. Idon't know what he left, but I suppose there'll be no difficulty inproving our title to what there is?"

  "None at all, I should think, though I'm not up in law. You've got someore worked, of course; copper, isn't it? Pity it isn't gold."

  "There's better than copper, at all events. There's a heap of unworkedore in a cavity just beyond the compound, and Uncle said it's almostpure silver."

  "That's first-rate. I recommend you to set the men to get it up atonce. We'll transport it to India somehow or other, and I'm sure I hopeit'll make you millionaires."

  "Not much chance of that," said Bob with a smile. "But it will give ussomething to jog along with."

  "You must be ready to start almost at once. We marched light; I've foodfor only two or three days, and short commons at that. This corned beefis very good: any more of it?"

  "I'll inquire of my store-keeper. I haven't seen him lately: he wasn'tin the fighting line, and I dare say he's alive."

  When Captain Fenton with the remainder of the relieving force arrived,the men were set to work after a meal to render the track impassable. Itwas fortified at the bend with a series of entrenchments and wireentanglements, space being left only for horsemen to pass in singlefile. Before the enemy had recovered from the shock of their reverse,the position which had given them so much trouble when defended by amere handful of almost untrained men was rendered ten times moreformidable, and held by ten times as many trained troops. On the nextday they felt forward with their artillery, but being met by a hail ofshells from the mountain batteries, they soon withdrew their guns, andfinally turned their backs on the scene of their wasted labours.

  Major Endicott followed them down the valley with the greater part ofhis force, Lawrence accompanying him on one of the troopers' horses. Hetook two guns in case they should turn at bay, but they showed theutmost alacrity in retreating, and for many miles only the stragglers oftheir rearguard were ever in sight. When the pursuers, however, werewithin a short distance of the scene of Lawrence's little engagement onthe way back from the bridge, they noticed a number of Kalmucks marchingover the hills to the left. They were no doubt following the path bywhich the Kalmucks on that occasion had managed to outflank Lawrence'sparty. There being none of the enemy in sight along the track, MajorEndicott deemed it necessary to climb into the hills and pursue thefugitives until he had made sure that no concentration was beingattempted.

  He left half his party with the guns on the track to continue theirmarch, and began to climb. It was a breakneck path, narrow, tortuous,and at times so steep that the troopers had to dismount and lead theirhorses carefully. They made slow progress, and when the Major reached amore level stretch and, looking through his field-glass, no longer sawany sign of the enemy, he decided that it would be waste of time andenergy to follow any farther.

  He had just given the order to retire when the figure of a man suddenlyappeared from the entrance of a ravine a few hundred yards ahead, andwalked towards the troop, holding his hands above his head. Thinkingthat he was one of the enemy intending to surrender, the Major waited.

  "I know that man," said Lawrence after a few moments. "He's an oldUzbek fellow, who lives quite alone somewhere in these hills, no oneknows where. He comes to the mine at long intervals to buy food andammunition in exchange for the horns and skins of _Ovis poli_. I supposehe's on his way there now."

  "Can you understand his lingo?"

  "No; my uncle was the only one of us who could talk to him."

  The man approached. He was a strange object, the wrinkled skin of hisface yellow like old i
vory, a ragged white beard hanging almost to hiswaist. When he came up, he made some sort of salutation to Lawrence,and another to the Major, then muttered the word _kuzur_.

  "We all know what that means," said the Major; but he paused, struck byan eager look in Lawrence's eyes as the old man made some pantomimicgestures and pointed in the direction whence he had come. Lawrencesprang from his horse.

  "He wants me to go with him, Major," he said hurriedly. "I believe--Ihardly dare think it----"

  He did not wait to complete the sentence, but followed the old man, whowas already walking back. They came to a narrow ravine, which woundaway into the hillside towards the river, always at a steep descent.Passing along it, they came after some minutes to a well-built akoi,around which several skins lay drying. The man led Lawrence to theentrance, and motioned to him to go in.

  The lad's heart was beating tumultuously. He paused a moment at the lowopening, shrinking lest what he was about to see were a culminatingspectacle of woe. In the middle of the tent there was a fire, the smokeof which passed out through a hole in the dome-shaped roof. Crushingdown his agitation, he stepped in, his tread falling noiseless on afloor of thick skin rugs. Just beyond the fire lay the still form of aman. Holding his breath, Lawrence bent down, and looked upon the face ofhis uncle, asleep.

  Though his footsteps had been silent, the fact of his presence seemed topenetrate the consciousness of the sleeping man. He opened his eyes.

  "Ah, Lawrence," he said, "what is this I hear about great guns?"

  Lawrence could not speak. He clasped his uncle's hand, and felt with akind of surprise that it was warm as his own.

  "Poor old boy! I expect you've had a bad time," Mr. Appleton went on."But I couldn't let you know that I was all right."

  "I can hardly believe it. It seems too good to be true. We'd long agogiven you up."

  "Long ago! Why, goodness alive! how long have I been here then?"

  And then Lawrence remembered that it was only a fortnight since thatunlucky pursuit of Nurla Bai.

  "It seems an age," he said. "But how splendid it is, Uncle! Bob andeverybody will be simply wild with delight. You're not ill, are you?"he asked, noticing that his uncle remained flat on his back.

  "I'm never ill, as you know! But old What's-his-name is not much of asurgeon, and I'm helpless with a broken thigh or something of the sort.That rascal Nurla Bai only gave me a flesh wound, which is healed now;but when I fell I came down too heavily on a rock beneath the surface,and smashed myself. The old man happened to be fishing close by----"

  "I remember: we found a fishing net when we were searching for you."

  "I was carried within reach of him, and he drew me ashore to a cavernunder the cliff. Of course I was senseless, and the old man seems tohave been scared out of his wits by the aeroplane, or he would haveshown up when you were looking for me. Anyway, he carried me to thisplace, which appears to be only a few feet above the bank, and here hehas looked after me ever since. When I came to myself, I explained whathad happened, and asked him to walk up to the mine to tell you that Iwas alive. He went off, but returned with a story about a whole armymarching up, and fighting, and big guns, and what not. So I simply hadto make the best of it, though I knew that you must think me dead. Now,what is this all about?"

  "I'll tell you everything when I get you home, Uncle. Major Endicott ishere----"

  "Thinks me mad, you know."

  "With a lot of troopers, and they must sling up a horse-litter for you.We've got Captain Coats at the mine--an army surgeon, you know; he'llsee what's really the matter with you."

  "Any other strangers? Billeting is rather expensive. But I'm talkingnonsense. Get me out of this as soon as you like. It's a verycomfortable hut, but not like home, and I long to see old Chunda Beg'sserious phiz, and--yes, hear the Babu's chatter. And I want toknow----"

  "Yes, there are heaps of things to explain," Lawrence interrupted."I'll run and tell the Major."

  "And I say, in case I forget it, I promised to give old Stick-in-the-muda pound of tobacco when I got back. Remind me."

  Lawrence hurried out, fearing that weakness had made his uncle ratherlight-headed. On his acquainting the Major with his amazing discovery,and explaining that the akoi appeared to be very near the river, theorder was at once given to return to the track. There they met theother half of the party, who reported that the bridge down stream hadcollapsed under the hurried flight of the enemy. Their rearguard hadevidently elected to try the difficult mountain track rather than riskbeing caught.

  Lawrence went down the track with the Major and two troopers, and weresoon met by the old Uzbek, whose name no one knew. He conducted themalong a narrow parting in the rocks till they reached his akoi. Withhis aid a litter of skins was rigged up, and on this Mr. Appleton wascarried down to the track. There the litter was slung between twohorses, and the rest of the journey to the mine was accomplished slowlyindeed, but in comfort.

  On the way Major Endicott, at Mr. Appleton's entreaty, gave him asuccinct account of what had happened during his absence.

  "I wish I'd been there, egad!" he ejaculated, as he heard of hisnephews' gallant defence. "But no: they've had a chance to show whatstuff they're made of; my assistance would have ruined it. D'you stillthink I'm mad, Endicott?"

  "Well--perhaps a trifle light-headed--owing to your illness, you know,"answered the Major in some confusion.

  "That's not what I meant," said Mr. Appleton with twinkling eyes. "Youthought me chronically mad, fit for Bedlam. Oh! you needn't apologize:all you frontier fellows did. 'Poor old Harry,' you know. 'Only amadman would think of mining in the Hindu Kush!' But where would youhave been without the mine, eh? Where would you have been, the wholedashed lot of you, without the mine and my young nephews? I tell youwhat, sir, my mine has been the saving of India, and don't you forgetit."

  "We shan't do that, Appleton, I assure you," said the Major, willing tohumour him.

  "Yes; my mine, and one other thing: Bob's aeroplane. What you want, mydear sir, to keep India safe, is a corps of air patrols, with Bob asboss and Lawrence as second in command. We've got the finest navy in theworld: for its size we've got the finest army; and we ought to wake upand get the finest air fleet, and the finest corps of airmen that can betrained. That's my opinion."

  There is no need to describe the scenes of wild excitement andjubilation at the mine when Mr. Appleton was carried among his people.The surgeon's report after examination of the fractured limb was asurprise to everybody. He said that the old Uzbek, by skill or goodluck, had done just what an experienced surgeon would have done in theabsence of proper splints. The fracture was a simple one, the bone wasalready joining up, and there would be no risk in conveying Mr. Appletonin the horse-litter by easy stages to India.

  Preparations for departure were hurried on. With the aid of thetroopers, the Pathans put up in a day a temporary shed for theaccommodation of the Englishmen. Then they set about hoisting thesilver ore from its cavity in the bank of the river to the compoundabove. The transportation of twenty tons of ore over rough countrywithout suitable vehicles was a matter that gave everybody much concern.It was ultimately decided that as much as possible should be carried bythe men and animals, the remainder being left, to be fetchedsubsequently by a host of carriers whom Fyz Ali undertook to enlist.Every man of the garrison was delighted with the promise of treble payfor the fortnight of Mr. Appleton's absence, and Major Endicott did notdespair of extracting a grant from Government in recognition of theirservices to the Empire.

  On the night before the southward march was to be begun, the Englishmenwere provided by Shan Tai with a supper on which he lavished all theresources of his art. Corned beef and other tinned comestibles appearedin various disguises, and Mr. Appleton, reclining on his chair, mildlyexpostulated with the Chinaman for deferring this triumphant exhibitionof his skill until the eve of the abandonment of the mine. Healths weredrunk in water and coffee, the only beverages available,
and thestore-sheds having luckily escaped injury, Mr. Appleton was able tooffer his guests some excellent cigars.

  When all were contentedly smoking, Mr. Appleton said:

  "I want to take you men into my confidence, and ask your advice. As youknow, I have decided to close down here. I had already decided to do soat the end of this summer: recent events have only anticipated it by afew weeks."

  "Congratulations," said Major Endicott. "I suppose you've made yourpile."

  "A very modest pile. Sixty per cent. of that ore is pure silver, and itwill fetch something like L50,000. That of course I shall invest."

  "Choose a good security," said the Major.

  "No more hair-brained adventures, you mean! Really, Major, you must tryto disabuse your mind of the notion that I am mad. Now, I am going toretire. Yesterday was my fifty-third birthday; I have knocked aboutenough; my tastes are simple: and I've enough to live on apart from thesilver.

  "You wonder, I dare say, why I brought my nephews out here only a fewmonths before the date I had fixed on for giving up the mine. I'll tellyou. I didn't know the boys, and wanted to study them at closequarters, and see for myself what they were good for. I am quitesatisfied. The probation they have come through during the last fewdays would convince any one."

  "I should rather think so," said the Major emphatically.

  "Well now, what do you advise? What shall I do with them?"

  "Let 'em both join the service; I recommend that without hesitation,"said the Major.

  "Hear! hear!" Captain Fenton ejaculated.

  "Would they have you back at Sandhurst, Bob?" asked his uncle.

  "No need for that," exclaimed the Major. "The Chief will give him acommission in the Indian army straight away when I've had a talk withhim."

  "Will that suit you, Bob?"

  "I couldn't wish for anything more splendid," said Bob, flushing withpleasure.

  "That's settled then. And you, Lawrence?"

  "The same for him, of course," said the Major.

  "It's uncommonly good of you," said Lawrence, "but--well, I'm not cutout for a soldier."

  "Rubbish, sir. I wish all my subalterns were like you."

  "What's your notion then?" asked Mr. Appleton.

  "Well, Uncle, I was going to Oxford, you know, but I'm afraid I shall betoo old for a scholarship next year, and--and it would cost too muchwithout."

  Lawrence spoke awkwardly, colouring to the roots of his hair.

  "You could manage on L400 a year, I suppose?" said Mr. Appleton, dryly.

  "Much less, Uncle. I know a chap who did jolly well on L200, andsaved."

  "What will you do when you come down? Take a clerkship at thirtyshillings a week, or teach little ruffians good cricket and bad Latin onforty?"

  "I thought of trying for the Indian Civil, Uncle. I should like itimmensely after being out here."

  "Stiff exam, isn't it?"

  "I can swat, sir."

  "I believe you can! Well, I'm going to settle my silver money on Boband you." [Here there was what the reporters call a "sensation."] "Itshould bring in L1500 a year even in the safest security. You shallhave L400 each until you're twenty-five; after that you'll share thewhole lot equally between you. Think I'm mad, Major?"

  "I wish you'd bite an old uncle of mine," said the Major with a laugh."I congratulate you young fellows; you deserve it all."

  The boys were overwhelmed with their good luck, and their uncle'sgenerosity. They stammered out their thanks; then, desiring to talkthings over quietly between themselves, they got up and went out.

  They strolled up and down the compound, looking with the mind's eye intothe vista opening so brightly before them, discussing plans withyouthful eagerness and optimism, voting their uncle a "trump," a"brick," a "ripping old boy," and employing the hundred and onemeaningless phrases with which Englishmen are wont to dissemble theirfeelings. It is only the bare truth to say that their deepestsatisfaction and thankfulness sprang from reunion with their uncle.

  Presently Bob noticed, in the gloom, Ditta Lal pacing slowly along bythe cliff wall.

  "Hallo, Babu!" he called. "Come here. I want to speak to you."

  The Bengali drew near, and as he came within the candlelight beamingthrough the open doorway of the shed, they noticed that he wore a verydejected look.

  "I want to thank you," continued Bob. "Chunda Beg told me that while thefight was going on you were heaping up that rampart yonder. It was wellthought of; we're indebted to you."

  The Babu's face lit up for a moment as he bowed his acknowledgments; butit instantly clouded over again.

  "You don't look very happy," said Lawrence. "What's the matter?"

  "It is a complicated case, sir," said the Babu mournfully. "Diagnosiseasy, but as for remedies that touch the spot, alas! _non est_, or morecorrectly, _non sunt_."

  "What's wrong? Out with it, man," said Bob.

  "Imprimis and in first place, sir, I droop in shade of impendingcalamity--regular sword of Damocles. I learn from esteemed avuncularrelative, whose return to wonted haunts fills bitter cup of rejoicing tooverflowing and slops, that he abandons commercial avocation, rests onhis oars and laurels, and subsides into lassitude of adipose retirement.Every man to his gout, sir; but what is one man's alimentary nourishmentis another man's happy dispatch. In short, young sirs, where do I comein?"

  "Well, I'll tell you a secret," said Bob. "In recognition of yourvaluable services, and your willingness to help in all sorts of ways outof your own line, my uncle is going to make you a present of L50 whenyou leave his employment."

  "Jolly good tip, sir," said the Babu, brightening. "To use vulgartongue, Burra Sahib is ripping old josser, and no mistakes. But for oneharrowing reflection, carking care, sir, and fly in ointment, I shouldbe restored to normal hilarity and cock-a-hoopness."

  "Well?"

  "You observe, sir, that while honourable superior persons are engaged intemperate carousal and fumigation, there is absence of mafficking andhorseplays among small fry; no beer and skittles, sir. That lies likeleaden hundred-weight upon my bounding bosom. I attribute it to vacuouscavity in my brain-pan, or possibly erratic convulsions of grey matter.I spoke of organising tamasha, you remember--regular orgy ofintellectual fireworks and monkey tricks, the set piece and tour deforce of which was to be ode, elegy, or comic song penned by humble andobsequious servant. Would you believe it! Though I have scorneddelights and lived laborious days, crowned my noble brow with soppedtea-cloth, imbibed oceans of coffee, black as your hat, and performedother rites enjoined by custom and recollections of stewing forexams--in spite of stupendous and praiseworthy efforts, that monument ofliterary agility is yet only shapeless block, sir: in short, I haven'tdone it."

  "That's a pity," said Lawrence, repressing a smile. "Inspiration ranshort, eh?"

  "No, sir, inspiration flows unchecked, a mild pellucid stream. Failureis due to intractable and churlish disposition of English lingo. Iwrite a magnificent and lovely line, to wit--

  "The solar luminary winked his bloodshot orb--

  and then beat coverts for a rhyme: cui bono and what's the use? Howtrue it is that fine words butter no parsnips! My note-book is chockfull of similar felicitous lines, left in single blessedness and mereoblivion for want of an accommodating partner, or, as I may say,eligible parti."

  "Why not try blank verse, then?" said Bob.

  "Blank verse is like blank cartridge, sir, suitable for reviews andsham-fights--that is to say, for long-winded epics and rigmaroles aboutnothing in particular; but not for battle pieces, in which you needclink-clank and rum-ti-tum to achieve truly martial effects."

  "I should like to see what you've done, though," said Lawrence.

  "Well begun is half done, proverb runs; fallacious and tommy rot, sir.I began well; I will exhibit, commending to you beautiful aphorism ofsome precious and defunct poet now forgotten, namely, 'We may our endsby our beginnings know.'"

  He drew a roll of paper from
his pocket, and moving towards the lighteddoorway, spread it before their eyes. This is what they read--

  ODE

  _in celebration of gorgeous defence of gorge by two young English sirs, who with handful of rude mechanicals, dauntless breasts and flying machine, 100 h.p., withstood the mights of twenty thousand Mongols. Written at request of one of aforesaid sirs, Mr. ROBERT APPLETON, Esquire, etc., by DITTA LAL, B.A. Calcutta University._

  Here the page ended. Lawrence turned over: the back was blank.

  "Where's the rest?" he asked.

  "There's the rub, sir. The rest is dispersed through many pages of mynote-book, high and dry, pearls of poesy, gems of purest ray serene,waiting leisure and a rhyming dictionary to thread them into perfect andresplendent ornament."

  "Well, finish it when you have time. You can send it to us, you know."

  "Registered, sir. I will do so without failings, and earn the meed ofmelodious tear or two, if not penny a line."

  Rolling up the paper, he returned to his own quarters, followed by eyesmirthful but compassionate.

  The campaign in Afghanistan lasted for several months after the checkgiven to the flanking force in the valley. The Mongols having obtaineda firm grip of the country around Kabul, it was difficult to dislodgethem, though they never succeeded in forcing the passes into India. Asthe struggle developed, and the British Indian army took the offensive,the Afghans, who had by this time found the Mongols unpleasant guests,and begun to doubt their value as allies, quarrelled with the invaders,and either withdrew into their remotest and least accessible hills, ortook sides actively against them. This was the beginning of the end.The horses which, if the early raids had been successful, would haveproved a tremendous asset to the enemy, were in a prolonged check inAfghanistan a serious handicap. It became impossible to feed them. TheMongol host lost its mobility, and found itself pent up in a mountainousregion where supplies even for the men failed.

  The story of the great retreat cannot be told in these pages. When oncethe retrograde movement began, every armed man in Afghanistan andNorthern Persia hasted like a sleuth-hound in pursuit. Only a fractionof the half-million invaders returned to Tashkend and beyond.

  A year or two afterwards, when the invasion was passing into theoblivion which soon swallows up even the greatest events of the hurryingmodern world, two of the actors in this little drama had their memoriesrecalled to it by a trifling street scene. Colonel Sir Herbert Endicottand Lieutenant Robert Appleton were walking through the bazaar at Lahorewhen they met an old fakir striding along. They were struck by hisvacant gaze, and the incessant muttering of his lips.

  "You heard what he said, Bob?" said the Colonel, as the tall, lean,half-naked figure swung by.

  "Yes," replied Bob, who was becoming an expert in the Border dialects."'I am a sharpener of swords,' wasn't it?"

  And his thoughts flew back to that first journey through the hills.

  "The poor wretch is clearly mad," said the Colonel. "I fear the swordhe sharpened has wounded his own hand. Let's hope it will always be sowith rebels and malcontents. There's this good come out of it, at anyrate: we have learnt to sharpen our own swords, and not to grudge theexpense.... When do you expect your new aeroplane?"

  "Pretty soon. It's a ripper, but I shan't like it so well as the oldone. Old friends are best."

  "Does that hold with aeroplanes as with men, I wonder? Anyhow, I wishyou luck with it. Shall we turn?"

  THE END

  Richard Clay & Sons, Limited London and Bungay.

 
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