The Sirdar's Oath: A Tale of the North-West Frontier

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

  OF THE DAK--AND MEHRAB KHAN.

  "Halloa, Raynier. I see the _dak_ coming," cried Haslam, putting hishead into the tent where the other was sitting, going over some officialpapers with his Babu; for, even though this was a sort of holiday trip,there were things to be attended to, and every day a Levy Sowar rodeinto and out from Mazaran, a distance of about forty miles. To the restof the party this daily post was a daily event. They got English mailletters--or news from the outside world. Haslam, for instance, whosefamily was away in England, was wont to wax excited over the event. Butto Raynier it was more of a nuisance than otherwise. It brought himofficial correspondence, but as for English letters he never got any,and did not want any. So Haslam's announcement failed to awaken anyinterest within him.

  A little later there entered a chuprassi bearing a leather bag. ThisRaynier unlocked, and proceeded to extract the contents by the simpleprocess of turning it upside down. The usual official matter--but--whatwas this? An English mail letter?

  There it lay amid the heap of long envelopes, and even before he took itup a frown came over Raynier's face, for it was directed in thehandwriting of Cynthia Daintree.

  What on earth could she have to write to him about? The envelope hadbeen re-directed on from Baghnagar, so she was evidently ignorant of histransfer and promotion. He sat staring at the envelope, and the frowndeepened. He felt in no hurry to explore its contents, for hisinstincts warned him that they would certainly prove unpleasant,possibly mischievous. Well, it had to be done.

  The letter was long and closely written, and a feeling of weariness andrepulsion came over him at the anticipation of having to wade throughall this. And--it began affectionately.

  But before he had read far the mystified expression upon his face becameone of blank astonishment and dismay.

  "Great Scott! The woman must be mad," he ejaculated, bringing his handdown upon the table; all of which afforded huge if secret delight to theBabu, whose keen native scent for an intrigue had led him to put two andtwo together--the receipt of the letter in a feminine hand, and thebewilderment and disgust evoked thereby in his master.

  Good cause indeed had the latter for both. For the writer, afterreferring to their quarrel, lightly, daintily and in a prettilyrepentant way, proceeded to set forth that an excellent opportunity tojoin him having now occurred in the shape of some friends who werereturning to India, she was coming out immediately--would, in fact,already have sailed by the time he received this letter, and that theycould be married at Bombay when she landed, or from her friends' houseat Poonah. Then there was a good deal that was very high sounding andgracious about turning over a new leaf and learning to understand eachother better and so forth, with a deft rounding off of affection toclose the missive effectively and clinchingly. No wonder he was dazed.

  "You can go now, Babu," he said.

  The Bengali rose and salaamed. There was going to be some fun now aboutsome mem-sahib, he was thinking to himself with an inward chuckle, forhe had seen that kind of thing before.

  Raynier sat there thinking, and thinking hard. What on earth was themeaning of it all? He went over in his own mind that parting scene.There was no sort of ambiguity about it, he decided; no loophole orpossibility of doubt that it was absolute and final. He recalled herown words, "Very well, then. It is your doing, your choice, remember."There was no sort of reserve, no double meaning there, even if hersilence ever since had not shown that she had considered heracquiescence final. And now she wrote coolly announcing her intentionof coming out, and marrying him straight off hand. Marrying him!

  It is possible that never until that moment had he so completelyrealised the intense feeling of emancipation which had been with him dayand night since the breaking off of that most mistaken understanding.Of late, too, it had been stronger still upon him, yet now it was thestrongest of all.

  The thing was preposterous--in fact, preposterous was hardly the wordfor it. But what was to be done? To suffer himself to be led as asheep to the slaughter was simply and entirely out of the question. Butthe unpleasantness of it all, the scandal it would create, theridiculous and even scurvy position in which it would place himself--why, it was intolerable!

  He scanned the letter. Even as she had said, she was well on her waynow. It was absolutely too late to cable and stop her--even if he knewwhere, for he did not fail to notice that so important a little detailas the name of the ship, or even of the Line, was deftly omitted. Howthen could he meet her? Easily enough. She would cable him from Adenas to the time of her arrival, she had said. And Aden was the last portof call.

  For all that he would cable on the off-chance of being in time to stopher. Such messages were expensive, and he had an idea that it would inthis case prove a sheer waste of money. Ha! That was it. He wouldsend the message to the Vicar direct. He of course would know the shipCynthia was on board of, and would send after her to the first port ofcall, and thus avoid humiliation for herself and all concerned. He gotout telegraph forms, and rapidly, though carefully, indited a couple ofmessages. Then he lifted up his voice,--

  "_Koi hai_!"

  There entered a chuprassi.

  "Take those at once, and tell Mehrab Khan he is to send them in toMazaran, now, immediately. Let him pick out the man with the besthorse, and tell that man to _ride_ it. You hear?"

  "_Ha, Huzoor_."

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  To another in the camp the post had seemingly brought tidings of moment.Hilda Clive, in the seclusion of her tent, was scrutinising hercorrespondence with anything but indifference. Several envelopes wereopened, their contents just glanced at, and thrown down. Then a quick,eager look came into her face as she drew one sheet from its cover, andsettled herself to read. As she read on the look of interest deepened,and a very soft, velvety glow rendered her eyes dangerously fascinatingand winning had any been there to see them.

  "Just as I have thought," she said to herself, as she came to the end ofthe communication.

  "Now it will all come right. And yet--and yet--do things ever comeright? Well, this shall--yes, it shall." And the smile that parted herlips and the light in her eyes rendered her face positively radiant, asshe rose, and with extra care locked away the correspondence she hadjust been perusing with such happy effect. And ten minutes laterRaynier's bearer was notifying him, with profuse apologies for presumingto intrude upon the notice of the great, that the Miss Sahib waswaiting, and ready to start upon the ride they were to take together.

  Hilda Clives spirits were simply bubbling over, for she had justdiscovered something she had set herself to find out, and the result wasin every way satisfactory. But they had not been long on the roadbefore she discovered something else--viz, that her escort, usually soequable, and full of ideas and conversation, was to-day not himself. Hewould give random answers, and his thoughts seemed to be running onsomething entirely outside; in short, it took no more than a couple ofsearchingly furtive glances to convince her that he had something on hismind.

  Their objective was the village of a sirdar of the Gularzai, and theirway lay through ten miles mostly of craggy mountain, all tumbled andchaotic--shooting upward in a sea of jagged peaks. The path by whichthey threaded the labyrinthine passes was in places none too safe,frequently overhanging, as it did, the boulder-strewn bed of a mountaintorrent, now nearly dry. All of this Hilda Clive thoroughly enjoyed,although she had to dismount while Mehrab Khan led her horse. ThisMehrab Khan was jemadar of the Levy Sowars, and wore a sort of khakiuniform and a blue turban and _kulla_. For the rest, he was a verysmart and intelligent man, and by nationality was a Baluchi of the Dumkitribe. By some intuition Raynier had at once singled him out as one tobe trusted. He liked to have him in attendance on such expeditions asthe present one, and would talk with him for hours at a time, and ofthis preference the man was intensely proud.

  As they emerged from the mou
ntain passes upon the more open country,they approached a camp of four or five shaggy herdsmen, who would hardlygive the salaam, but scowled evilly at them, leaning on their queer longguns with sickle-shaped stocks. Hardly had they gone by than there wasa rush of two great dogs--guardians of the flocks pasturing along themountain side. Open-mouthed, with one ferocious bay, they came straightfor Hilda, who was riding on that side. In a moment she would have beendragged from her horse, for Raynier's steed had taken fright, and it wasall he could do to keep the idiotic beast from incontinently bolting,let alone come to her assistance. But Mehrab Khan, who was behind,spurred alongside of her, and with a lightning-like sweep of his tulwarcut down the foremost beast, nearly severing it in half.

  The other sheered off, growling. But a savage, vengeful shout behindtold of a new danger. The herdsmen they had just passed came runningup, and it could be seen that two or three of them had drawn theirswords.

  "Stay, brothers," called out Mehrab Khan. "Stay. It is the _Sirkar_."

  Would they stop? It was little enough these wild mountaineers cared forthe _Sirkar_. The situation was critical. There were five of thesefierce, fanatical savages, fired with hate for the infidel intruder,burning with a desire for revenge upon the destroyers of their property.Raynier had got in front of Hilda Clive, whispering hurriedly to her onno account to move, while Mehrab Khan and the other Levy Sowar, withtheir rifles ready, faced the oncomers.

  The latter, not liking the look of things, slackened their speed andcame to a halt, spitting curses.

  "Why do they keep savage animals to rush out at people?" Raynier asked,for, though he could talk Pushtu fairly well, he chose to put it throughMehrab Khan. "Dogs of that kind are more dangerous than a pack ofwolves."

  The men answered scowlingly that they were kept to protect the flocks,and that dogs were of no use at all for such a purpose unless they werefierce. Besides, they were not accustomed to strangers in a strangedress.

  "There's something in that," said Raynier.

  "Would not the Huzoor pay for the property he had destroyed?" thespokesman asked. "Such a dog as that was valuable."

  Raynier replied that he would, but they must send or come to the camp toreceive it, as he did not carry money about with him. Then a bargainwas struck, allowing a trifle over for their trouble in travelling thatdistance, and with a surly salaam, the herdsmen withdrew.

  "Of course I might have refused to pay a single pice," Raynier said, ashe explained to the girl what had transpired. "But it is not soundpolicy invariably to stand stiffly on one's rights, and it's better topay a few rupees than make enemies of these people. Besides, poordevils, it is a loss to them."

  Hilda agreed, only insisting that, as the liability was incurred in herdefence, she ought to be allowed to discharge it--a proposal which waslaughed to scorn.

  "You see, now, what might have happened during that little moonlightstroll of yours," Raynier went on. "And I don't think you'd find thesebrutes so ready to turn tail as that panther was. By the way, I daresayyou'd rather turn back now?"

  "Of course not. Why?"

  "Only that you must have seen enough of the interesting Gularzai atclose quarters for one day."

  "Then I haven't," she answered gaily. "I wouldn't give up this visit toa real native magnate for the world."

  "It was well done, Mehrab Khan," said Raynier, in Pushtu. "Thy strokewas a worthy one, strong and swift."

  And the Baluchi, proud and pleased, murmured his thanks.