CHAPTER VII.
BRIGHT EYES OF DANGER.
"My mistress still, the open road; And the bright eyes of danger." --R. L. S.
By mid-April, life in the blue bungalow had undergone an unmistakablechange for the better; and Theo Desmond, sitting alone in thecongenial quietness of his study, an after-dinner pipe between histeeth, a volume of Persian open before him, and Rob's slumbering bodypressed close against his ankles, told himself that he and his wife,in befriending Honor Meredith at a moment of difficulty, had withoutquestion entertained an angel unawares. Evelyn had blossomed visiblyin the pleasure of her companionship; while he himself found her goodto talk with, and undeniably good to look at.
There was also a third point in her favour, and that by no means theleast. Her sympathetic rendering of the great masters of music hadrenewed a pleasure linked with memories sacred beyond all others.Althea Desmond bid fair to retain undivided supremacy over the strongson, who had been the crown and glory of her life. Death itself seemedpowerless to affect their essential unity. Her spirit--vivid andvigorous as his own--still shared and dominated his every thought; andher photograph, set in a silver frame of massive simplicity, stoodclose at his elbow, while he reviewed the changes wrought in the pastfew weeks by the unobtrusive influence of John Meredith's sister.
The mere lessening of strain and friction in regard to the countlessdetails of an Indian household was, in itself, an unspeakable relief.During the first few months of his marriage he had persevered steadilyin the thankless task of instructing his cheerfully incompetent bridein the language and household mysteries of her adopted country. Butthe more patiently he helped her the more she leaned upon his help;till the futility of his task had threatened to wear his temperthreadbare, and to put a severe strain on a relationship more complexthan he had imagined possible.
Now, however, the tyranny of trifles was overpast. The man's elasticnature righted itself, with the spring of a finely-tempered bladereleased from pressure, and as the passing weeks revealed his wife'sprogress under Honor's tuition, he readily attributed her earlierfailures to his own lack of skill.
As a matter of fact, her power to cope with Amar Singh--Desmond'sdevoted Hindu bearer--and the eternal enigmas of charcoal,_jharrons_,[13] and the _dhobie_,[14] had not increased one whit: andshe knew it. But the welcome sound of praise from her husband's lipsconvinced her that she must have done something to deserve it. Sheaccepted it, therefore, in all complacency, without any acknowledgmentof the guiding hand upon the reins.
[13] Dusters.
[14] Washerman.
Great peace dwelt also in the compound, where a colony of servants andtheir families lived their unknown lives apart; and great pride in theheart of Parbutti, since Amar Singh had so far unbent as to prophesythat the Miss Sahib would without doubt become a Burra Mem before theend of her days.
While Desmond sat alone in this warm April evening, studying thefantastic Persian characters with something less than his wontedconcentration, the sound of the piano came to him through thehalf-open door.
For a few moments he listened, motionless, to the first weirdwhispering bars of Grieg's Folkscene, "Auf den Bergen," then the bookwas pushed hastily aside and the lamp blown out. Rob--rudely awakenedfrom a delectable dream of cats and the naked calves of unsuspectingcoolies--found himself plunged in darkness, and his master vanishingthrough the curtains into the detested drawing-room.
Evelyn was installed on the fender-stool of dull red velvet, her handsclasped about her knees, her head raised in expectation. A dress ofsoftly flowing white silk, and a single row of pearls at her throat,intensified her fragile freshness, as of a lily of the field, acreature out of touch with the sterner elements of life. It was atsuch moments that her husband was apt to suffer a contraction ofheart, lest, in an impulse of infatuation, he had undertaken more thanhe would be able to perform.
She patted his favourite chair; then, impulsively deserting her seat,crouched on the hearth-rug beside him and nestled her head against hisknee.
"I told her to play it! I knew it would bring you at once," shewhispered, caressing him lightly with a long slim hand.
"You shall sing to me afterwards yourself," he said, "a song inkeeping with your appearance to-night. You look like some sort ofelf-maiden in that simple gown and my pearls. Only one touch wanted tocomplete the effect!"
With smiling deliberation he drew out four tortoise-shell pins thatupheld the silken lightness of her hair, so that it fell in a fairsoft cloud about her neck and shoulders.
"Theo! How dare you!"
And as she turned her face up to him, in laughing remonstrance, he wasstruck anew by the childishness of its contour, in spite of thepallor, which had become almost habitual of late. Taking it betweenhis hands he looked steadfastly into the limpid shallows of her eyes,as though searching for a hidden something which he had little hope tofind.
"Ladybird, what a baby you are still!" he murmured, "I wonder _when_you mean to grow into a woman?"
Then with a start he became aware that Amar Singh, having enterednoiselessly through the door behind him, stood at his side in a poseof imperturbable reverence and dignity.
"Olliver Memsahib _ghora per argya_,"[15] he announced with discreetlylowered lids; while Evelyn, springing up with rose-petal cheeks and asmall sound of dismay, must needs try and look as if ladies inevening dress habitually wore their hair hanging loose about theirshoulders.
[15] Has come on a horse.
Honor swung round upon the music-stool as Frank Olliver, in eveningskirt and light drill jacket strode into the room.
Before she could bring out her news, a blare of trumpets, sounding thealarm, startled the quiet of the night, and Desmond leapt to his feet.
"There you are, Theo, man," she said. "You can hear for yourself. It'sa fire in the Lines. Geoff and I caught sight of the flare just nowfrom our back verandah. He's gone on ahead; but I said I'd look inhere for you."
"Thanks. Tell 'em to saddle the Demon, will you? I'll be ready in twominutes."
And Mrs Olliver vanished from the room.
As Desmond prepared to follow her, his wife's fingers closed firmly onthe edge of his dinner-jacket.
She was sitting now in the chair he had left; and turned up to him aface half beseeching, half resentful in its frame of soft hair.
"Why must _you_ go, Theo? There are heaps of others who--aren'tmarried."
"Don't be a little fool, child!" he broke out in spite of himself.Then gently, decisively, he disengaged her fingers from his coat; buttheir clinging grasp checked his impatience to be gone.
He bent down, and spoke in a softened tone. "I've no time forarguments, Evelyn. I am simply doing my duty."
He was gone--and she remained as he had left her, with hands lyinglistlessly in her lap, and a frown between her finely pencilledbrows,--mollified, but by no means convinced.
Honor had hurried into the hall, where Frank Olliver greeted her withimpulsive invitation.
"Why don't you 'boot and saddle' too, Honor, an' ride along with us?"
"I only wish I could! I'd love to go! But I _must_ stay with Evelyn.She is upset and nervous about Theo as it is."
"Saints alive! How _can_ you put up with her at all--at all!"muttered irrepressible Frank. "But hush, now, here's the blessedfellow himself!"
Theo Desmond strode rapidly down the square hall, hung with trophiesof the chase and implements of war--an incongruous figure enough, inforage cap and long brown boots with gleaming spurs, his sword buckledon over his evening clothes. He snatched a long clasp-knife from thewall in passing, and the Irishwoman, with an nod of approval, hurriedout into the verandah, where the impatient horses could be heardchamping their bits.
Desmond had a friendly smile for Honor in passing.
"Pity you can't come too. Be good to Ladybird. Don't let her workherself into a fever about nothing."
* * * * *
For eight b
reathless minutes the grey and the dun sped through thewarm night air, under a rising moon, their shadows fleeing beforethem, long and black,--two perspiring saises following zealously intheir wake;--till their riders drew rein before a pandemonium ofscurrying men and horses, silhouetted against a background of fire.
The great pile of sun-dried bedding burnt merrily: sending up fiercetongues of flame, that shamed the moonlight, as dawn shames the lamp.A brisk wind from the hills caught up shreds and flakes from theburning mass, driving them hither and thither, to the sore distractionof man and beast.
Lithe forms of grass-cutters and water-carriers, in the scantiestremnants of clothing, leaped and pranced on the outskirts of the fire,like demons in a realistic hell.
In valiant spurts and jerks, alternating with ignominious flight, theywere combating that column of flame and smoke with thimblefuls ofwater, flung out of stable buckets, or squirted from mussacks. Theywere beating it also with stript branches, making night radiant with athousand sparks.
But the soaring flames jeered at their pigmy efforts; twinkledderisively on their glistening bodies; and assailed the vast composureof the skies with leaping blades of light.
To the bewildering confusion of movement was added a no lessbewildering tumult of sound, whose most heart-piercing note was themaddened scream of horses; and whose lesser elements included shoutsof officers and sowars; high-pitched lamentations from the audience ofnatives; the barking of dogs; and the drumming of a hundred hoofs uponthe iron-hard ground.
During the first alarm of the fire, which had broken out perilouslyclose to the quarters occupied by Desmond's squadron, the terrifiedanimals in their frenzied efforts to break away from the ropes, hadreduced the Lines to a state of chaos. Those of them, and they weremany, who succeeded in wrenching out their pegs, had instinctivelyheaded for the parade-ground beyond the huts; their flight complicatedby wandering lengths of rope that trailed behind them, whirled inmid-air, or imprisoned their legs in treacherous coils; while sowarsand officers risked life and limb in attempting to free them fromtheir dilemma.
The restless brilliance gave to all things a strange nightmaregrotesqueness: and a blinding, stifling shroud of smoke whirled andbillowed over all.
As the riders drew up, there was a momentary lull, and beforedismounting Desmond flung a ringing shout across the stillness.
"_Shahbash_,[16] men, _shahbash_! Have no fear! Give more water--waterwithout ceasing!"
[16] Well done.
He was answered by an acclamation of welcome from all ranks.
"_Wah!_ _Wah!_ Desmin Sahib _argya_!"[17] the sowars of his squadroncalled to one another through the curling smoke; and the new arrivalswere speedily surrounded by a little crowd of officers and men:Wyndham, Denvil, Alla Dad Khan, and Ressaldar Rajinder Singh, in thespotless tunic and vast silken turban of private life.
[17] Has come.
The Jemadar took possession of the Demon's bridle, and Desmond,leaping lightly to the ground, hurried straightway to the relief of adistressed grass-cut. The man had been rash enough to attempt thecapture of two horses at once, and now stood in imminent danger ofbeing kicked to death by his ungrateful charges.
Desmond took both horses in hand, holding them at arm's length, andsoothing them with his voice alone.
"Here you are, Harry!" he said, as Denvil came to his assistance."This poor fellow will go with you now, quietly enough."
Handing over his second horse to the grass-cut, he vanished into thedarkness; where, betwixt stampeding horses and the incredibleswiftness of fire, he found more than sufficient scope for action.
He came to a standstill, at length, for a second's breathingspace;--and lo, Rajinder Singh emerging suddenly from the heart ofpandemonium, breathless with haste, a great distress in his eyes.
"Hullo, Ressaldar!" Desmond exclaimed. "What's up now?"
The tall Sikh saluted.
"The knife, Sahib! Give me your knife! It is _Sher Dil_,[18] fallenamongst his ropes. He is like to strangle----"
[18] Lion Heart.
"Great Scott! I'll see to it myself."
And he set out, full speed, Rajinder Singh after him, protesting atevery step.
The great black charger, the glory of the squadron and of his owner'sheart, was in a perilous case. So securely had he entangled himself inthe head-rope that, despite the freedom of his heels, and spasmodicefforts to regain his feet, he remained pinned to earth, not manyyards from where the fire was raging,--his fear and misery increasedby wind-blown fragments of lighted straw, by the roar and crackle ofthe burning pile.
Desmond saw at a glance that his rescue might prove a dangerousbusiness, but Rajinder Singh was beside him now, still hopeful ofturning him from his purpose.
"Hazur--consider--the horse is mine----"
"No more words!" Desmond broke in sharply. "Stay where you are!"
He plunged forthwith into the stinging, blinding smoke; dexterouslyavoiding the hoofs of Sher Dil, subduing his terror with hand andvoice, though himself half choked, and constantly forced to close hiseyes at the most critical moments; while the task of avoiding theburning fragments that fell about him seemed in itself to demandundivided attention.
Rajinder Singh, stationed at the nearest possible point, anxiouslywatched his Captain's progress; and here Paul Wyndham joined himhurriedly.
"Who is that?" he asked. "The Captain Sahib?"
"To my shame, your honour speaks truth," the old man made answerhumbly. "His heart was set to do this thing himself----"
"Have no fear," Wyndham reassured him kindly; and, with a sharpcontraction of heart, ran to his friend's assistance.
Desmond had already stooped to slit the rope that pressed so cruellyagainst the charger's throat; and, as Wyndham reached him, the animalgave a last convulsive plunge; threw out his forelegs in an ecstasy offreedom; and struck his deliverer full on the shoulder.
"Damnation!" Desmond muttered, as he fell to the ground, and Sher Dilstaggered, panting, to his feet.
Rajinder Singh sprang forward with a smothered cry. But, quick aslightning, Desmond was up again, and had secured the morsel of ropedangling by the horse's head. Only his left arm hung limp andhelpless, the droop of the shoulder telling its own tale.
"Collar-bone," he said laconically, in reply to the mute anxiety ofPaul's face. "Same old spot again!"
"It might just as well have been--your head," Paul answered, with atwist of his sensitive mouth. He had not quite got over his fewmoments of acute suspense.
Desmond laughed.
"So it might, you old pessimist! But it wasn't! Here you are,Ressaldar Sahib! Never have I seen a horse so set on killing himself.But it was needful to disappoint him on your account."
Rajinder Singh, who had come forward, plucking the muslin scarf fromhis shoulders for a bandage, saluted in acknowledgment of the words.
"How is it possible to make thanks, Hazur...?"
Desmond laid a hand on the man's shoulder.
"No need of thanks," said he. "This fine fellow hath already thankedme in his own rough fashion, clapping me on the shoulder,--forgetfulof his great strength,--because he had no power to say 'Shahbash!'"
The old Sikh shook his head slowly, a great tenderness in his eyes.
"Such is the gracious heart of the Captain Sahib, putting a good faceeven upon that which is evil. Permit, at least, that we make somemanner of bandage till it be possible to find the Doctor Sahib."
It was permitted; and the useless arm having been strapped into place,Wyndham insisted upon his friend's departure; a fiat against whichDesmond's impetuous protests were launched in vain. For, like many menof habitually gentle bearing, Paul Wyndham's firmness was apt to besingularly effective on the rare occasions when he thought it worthwhile to give proof of its existence.
"I'll ride back with you myself," he announced, in a tone of finality,"and go on to the Mess for Mackay afterwards. The worst is over now,and you'll only let yourself in for a demonstration if your men findout that any harm has
come to you." The diplomatic suggestion had thedesired effect; and they rode leisurely back to the bungalow, under amoon no longer robbed of its radiance.
Few words passed between them as they went; but on arriving at thesquat, blue gate-posts Wyndham drew rein and spoke.
"Good-night, dear old chap. Take a stiff 'peg' the minute you get in.I'm in need of one myself."
"Sorry if I gave you a bit of a shock, old man," Desmond answeredsmiling, and rode at a foot's pace toward the house.
"Here I am, Ladybird!" he announced, on entering the drawing-room; andEvelyn, springing from the depths of his chair, made an eager movementtowards him.
But at sight of his bandaged arm and damp dishevelled appearance shehalted with lips apart. A curious coldness crept into her eyes andentirely banished the young look from her face.
"Theo--you're hurt--you've broken something."
"Well, and if I have?" he answered laughing. "It's a mere nothing.Only a collar-bone."
"Your collar-bone isn't nothing. And I can't _bear_ to see you allhideous and bandaged up like that. I knew something would happen! Iwas sure it would!"
The light of good-humour faded from his eyes.
"Well, well, if you knew it all beforehand, no need to make so manywords about it now. Let me sit down. It's been stifling work and--I'mtired."
He sank into the chair and closed his eyes, his face grown suddenlyweary. His wife drew near to him slowly, with more of pained curiositythan of solicitude in her face, and laid a half-reluctant hand on thearm of his chair.
"Does it hurt, Theo?" she asked softly.
"Nothing to bother about. Mackay will be here soon."
"Won't you tell us how it happened?"
"There's not much to tell, Ladybird. Rajinder Singh's charger kickedme while I was cutting his head-rope--that's all. The good old chapwas quite upset because I wouldn't let him do it himself."
"Well, I think you _ought_ to have let him. It wouldn't have matteredhalf so much if _he_----"
"That's enough, Evelyn!" the man broke out in a flash of genuineanger. "If you're only going to say things of that sort, you may aswell hold your tongue."
And once again he closed his eyes, as if in self-defence againstfurther argument or upbraiding.
His wife stood watching him with a puzzled frown, while Honor, akeenly interested observer, wondered what would happen next.
Her sympathy, as always, inclined to the man's point of view. But apassionate justness, very rare in women, forced her to acknowledgethat Evelyn's remonstrance, if injudicious, was not unjustifiable. Thegirl saw clearly that the sheer love of danger for its own sake, whichFrontier life breeds in men of daring spirit, had impelled Desmond toneedless and inconsiderate risk; saw also that his own perception ofthe fact added fire to his sharp retort.
He stirred at length, with an uneasy shifting of the damaged shoulder.
"This bandage is hideously uncomfortable," he said in a changed tone."Could you manage to untie it and fix it up more firmly till Mackaycomes?"
Thus directly appealed to, Evelyn cast a nervous glance at Honor. Thegirl made neither sign nor movement, though her hands ached to relievethe discomfort of the wounded man; and after a perceptible moment ofhesitation, Evelyn went to Desmond's side, her heart fluttering likethe heart of a prisoned bird.
With tremulous fingers she unfastened the knot behind his shoulder,and, having done so, rested her hand inadvertently on the broken bone.It yielded beneath her touch, and she dropped the end of the bandagewith a little cry.
"Oh, Theo, it _moved_! I can't touch it again! It's ... it'shorrible!"
Her husband stifled an exclamation of pain and annoyance.
"Could _you_ do it for me, Honor?" he asked. "It can hardly be leftlike this?"
She came to him at once, and righted the bandage with deft,unshrinking fingers, rolling part of the long scarf into a pad underhis arm to ease the aching shoulder.
"Thank you," he said. "That's first-rate."
And as he shouted for a much-needed "peg," Honor passed quietly out ofthe room.
Evelyn remained standing a little apart, watching her husband withspeculative eyes. Then she came and stood near him, on the sidefarthest from the alarming bone that moved at a touch.
"I'm sorry, Theo. Are you very cross with me?"
Her lips quivered a little, and the pallor of her face caught at hisheart.
"No, no. We won't make mountains out of molehills, eh, Ladybird? Kissand be friends! like a good child, and get to bed as fast as possible.Mackay will be here soon, and you'll be best out of the way."
He drew her down and kissed her forehead. Then, as she slippedsilently away through his study, and on into the bedroom beyond, helay back with a sigh in which relief and weariness were oddly mingled.He was devoutly thankful when the arrival of James Mackay dispelledhis disturbing train of thought.