CHAPTER XVIII
THE DACOIT'S HEAD
The search now proceeded with fresh spirit. Taking the spot where laythe tiger's carcase as a centre, the party closely examined every exitfrom it, but quite fruitlessly. It was tolerably easy to perceive fromwhich side the shot had been fired,--where Denham must have beenstanding at that moment,--they proceeded first in that direction.
A little breakage among some succulent plants betrayed a slight fartherprogress there; then this trace ceased wholly. A wall of thick foliageinterposed,--a purple flower bedecking it with rare beauty, but itturned them back. A long stalk of _Amherstia_ lay on the ground at ashort distance, as if it might have been broken off short in an attemptto mount a tree by its aid, but this clue also failed them.
The glade narrowed at one side to a tiny track, possible to penetrate.They advanced along it in single file, now climbing over fallentree-trunks all smothered in ferns, then stooping beneath loops andtrails of _Dendrobiums_, and a variety of plants, matted together withconvolvuli, and tendrils of many kinds.
It opened out upon a blackened vista over which the jungle fire hadswept, burning away every trace of animal life; a desolate track ofwaste and ruin, among such super-abundant life, as was strange to see.
Stranger still to observe a glorious butterfly--a fragile, delicatecreature, just emerged from its chrysalis tomb--spreading its paintedwings, yet damp from its new birth, in the warmth of the sun as itstreamed down upon the scorched grass. It was a living allegory of Lifeafter Death which could not fail to strike every soul.
"It is your friend's 'leyp bya,'" said one of the Burmans. "It must havebeen out upon a ramble when the fire overtook him in his sleep, and itcannot now find its home again in him."
The charred scrub no longer presented further difficulties in the way ofsearch. It was comparatively easy to penetrate in almost any direction;and the party separated, scattering themselves over the cleared space,and closely examining every rood of ground. Not a sign of man was to befound. Would any such exist after so fierce a flame had swept over it?Could it have been expected?
Mr. Brudenel laid his hand upon Gilchrist's shoulder.
"It is useless, my friend," said he. "The boy has gone, and left notrace. You must bear it like a man. If he yet should have escaped bothfire and wild beast, he will be heard of in time. He can find us, but wecannot find him."
"Oh, do not say that I must abandon hope!" cried Gilchrist in agonisedtones. "There must be something yet to be done."
"Offer a reward to any Burman who may bring in the smallest trace,"suggested Osborn. "Those fellows have their network of connections allover the land. Make it worth their while to bring in anything that theymay find. The stock of his rifle might be burnt, but the barrel must bethere in some form. So must his hunting-knife, and many little things,as buttons, buckles, and such like, on his clothes. No wild beast couldeat up thiccee neither."
"I will give any reward which Mr. Brudenel thinks likely to succeed,"cried Gilchrist eagerly.
"Not too fast," remonstrated the police officer. "Offer too liberal asum, and, should he live, some of our worthy neighbours will murder himfor sake of it. Leave that to me, I will manage that."
He had really no hope whatever that Denham lived, but was too kindly atheart to say so in plain words.
"Stay with me awhile, till we feel that we have turned every stone tofind the lad," he suggested. "You will have every facility for searchwith us, and a rest will do yourself no harm after all you have gonethrough. Your old man will not be fit to move yet, either. Let my wifecoddle him up into good health again first, and I can give you somesport the while."
Mr. Gilchrist readily accepted the invitation, for he could not bear theidea of relinquishing all hope of Ralph.
They returned sadly and silently to the station, where every comfortawaited them, but which they could not enjoy from a haunting dread ofwhat Ralph might be suffering in some lonely spot,--perhaps burned andbruised, yet living, and beyond help. The nice dinner choked Mr.Gilchrist, he could not swallow the dainties which Mrs. Brudenel, in thepride of her young housekeeping, had laid before them; sleep forsook hispillow; he had no apparent answer to his prayers; gloom took possessionof his soul.
With gentle wile did Mrs. Brudenel try to cheer her visitor, anddistract his thoughts from constant brooding over the inevitable.
She succeeded with him better than her husband did, though he was askind as he knew how to be; but he was accustomed to rougher experiences,and used to losing his comrades by death under many phases. His wifewalked in the verandah with her afflicted guest; she told him of Wills'state, which steadily improved. She consulted him as to the garden,which she was anxious to make very beautiful, and how to grow theplants which she admired most, and which were all new to her experience.Gilchrist tried, for sake of her kindness, to take interest in herpleasures, despite his heavy heart.
"I fear," said he to her, "that we give you much trouble, and are sadlyin your way."
"Oh no, no! far from that!" cried she eagerly. "You are such pleasantcompany for my husband, to whom it is such a treat to have English facesabout him; and you tell me so nicely how to manage the orchids, of whichI am anxious to have a good collection. Yours is just the help I wanted;and if you want any drawings of specimens, I may be of some assistanceto you, for I am fond of drawing."
"Fetch some of your pictures, wifey," said Mr. Brudenel. "See,Gilchrist, is not that thing nice, it looks just as if it were growingthere. I have ordered a carved frame for it, from a fellow here who doesthat sort of thing admirably."
"It is indeed an excellent drawing of the specimen," said Gilchrist;"but, excuse me, madam, you have copied the blossom from one plant andthe foliage from another."
"I did," said Mrs. Brudenel, surprised. "I only had the flower, whichwas brought to me cut from its stem, so I put in the leaves from thatone which grows in the verandah."
"And that one, which is not yet in bloom, will bear a blossom of whiteand lemon colour, whereas this is purple streaked."
"Oh, Mr. Gilchrist!" cried she, in pretty dismay, "what can be done? CanI alter it and put it right?"
"It would be best to do so, certainly," said he, unpacking a tin case ofhis own sketches; which, though less finished than the lady's drawings,were far more accurate as botanical specimens. But among them were someof Ralph's hasty schoolboy productions; one done in a merry mood, whenhe had contrived to introduce the semblance of a grotesque human faceamong the convolutions of the plant. Mr. Gilchrist came upon thisunexpectedly, in his search for the one which he wanted, and broke downcompletely over it, as it brought so forcibly before him the boy'slaughing eyes and bright expression as he had held it up for inspection,with some harmless nonsense.
Oh, Ralph! Was that smiling face cold and set in death already? Werethose pleasant eyes closed for ever, those jocund lips pale and grim?Was that dear brave boy lying scorched and blackened by the jungleflame, or torn limb from limb by the tiger? Had he gone through so muchby sea and land, for his fate to remain an unsolved mystery forevermore; a secret--a dreadful haunting secret--only to be divulged onthe last day?
Mrs. Brudenel put her kind hand upon Gilchrist's shoulder.
"Do not despair, my friend," said she gently; "do not abandon yourselfto despair. God is very good,--very merciful. Perhaps Ralph is safe yet.No sign of him has been found, and had the tiger killed him there surelywould have been some. Let us seek for faith."
"I do not know how to have faith, dear lady," groaned Mr. Gilchrist."There seems no ground for faith."
"Ah, my dear sir," was her innocent reply, "faith would not be faithwere there ground for it. It is simple trust in our Father's goodness."
Gilchrist could not reply. He knew that she was right; he knew that shewas nearer to God than he; he felt rebuked, though she was far fromhaving intended to administer rebuke,--it did not occur to her that shehad done so.
There was silence for a few minutes, then she began again.
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bsp; "Tell me about Ralph, he must be about the age of my brother Sydney."
"Not seventeen," replied Mr. Gilchrist.
"And what a hero he is! how much bravery he has shown! Sydney would beso envious of him. He is very high-spirited and daring too. He is goingto be a soldier,--papa is a soldier, you know."
"Yes, madam?"
"I have heard papa say that the hardest thing soldiers have to do is to_wait_ until they are wanted. When they are charging down upon an enemy,and fighting, they are carried on by the excitement, and forgeteverything but the work in hand. When they are standing still, doingnothing but keeping steady, and seeing the battle carried on by otherson every hand, it is a very hard thing for them to hold themselves in."
"Waiting is always hard," said Mr. Gilchrist, sighing.
"Yes. Papa had to do it the very first time when he was in anengagement. It was in some Indian skirmish with native troops, andpapa's company was one held in reserve to pour in fresh when the rebelswere tired, and meantime to hold a pass and prevent them from movinground to the rear of the English. I believe," continued she, with asmile, "that I am expressing myself badly, like an ignorant girl, butperhaps you understand what I mean?"
"Yes, madam, your meaning is perfectly clear to me."
"Well, papa found it so hard to stand still, with nothing to do, that hetook up a bit of stick and whittled it to keep himself steady. When thecall to charge was sounded, he put the half-peeled stick and the handfulof chips into his pocket; he never knew why, or even that he had doneso, until mamma found them there long afterwards, and asked him why hekept such things. Then the sight of them called up the whole scene tohim more plainly than anything else, he said: the dark-faced rebels,with evil looks and angry eyes; the glare and flashing guns and smotherof smoke; and the poor creatures shot down before his face, and lyinghowling and bleeding on the ground, among plunging horses and shoutingmen; and some lying still who had been so raging just before, and theset determined look upon the Englishmen.
"Mamma has those chips now, put away among her treasures, and shows themto us sometimes on a Sunday evening, when we have been reading the Bibleto her, and talking about being resolute, and such things."
"Your story reminds me of the poet's words, 'Those also serve, who onlystand and wait,'" said Mr. Gilchrist.
"Yes, does it not," cried she, her sweet face kindling. "I do so likethose lines."
Mr. Brudenel here returned from his morning duties, and invitedGilchrist to take a turn in the verandah with him.
"No news yet, I am sorry to say," said he.
Mr. Gilchrist turned to Mrs. Brudenel, "I will try to 'stand and wait,'patiently," said he.
Some excitement was here observed among the natives and servants. A manhad arrived, carrying something large and round, tied up in agaily-coloured handkerchief, which he swung carelessly in his hand as heapproached.
The little crowd pressed closely about him, all eagerly talking at once.Some words attracted Mr. Brudenel's ear, that of "dacoit" prominentamong them. He rose hastily, and marched down to the excited group.
"Oh," cried Mrs. Brudenel, "perhaps the man has brought news of yourfriend! let us hasten to hear what he says. What can he have in thathandkerchief?"
She rose, and almost ran through the compound; in her eagerness quiteoutstripping Mr. Gilchrist, who longed, yet dreaded, to hear the newswhich he felt had come at last.
Mr. Brudenel lifted his hand in warning to his wife, but she did notperceive his caution; nor, in the babble of Burmese tongues, catch hisdesire that she should not be present.
"What have you there?" asked she in her excitement, airing one of thefew phrases of the language which had been so recently taught to her.
Quite proud to be addressed by the English lady, and pleased withhimself, his burden, and the news which he had to impart, the Burmanuntied his bundle with an amiable grin of delight, and out rolled, tothe horrified girl's feet, the ghastly, gory, head of a dacoit chief,with its fierce expression set in death upon the parted blackened lips,and in the deep lines around the sunken eyes.
With blanched face, she recoiled in terror; and her husband, hurryingforward, passed his stalwart arm around her for protection, while shehid her face on his breast.
The Burman, meantime, was pouring out a flood of explanations, and thehistory of his having watched the robber, seen him possessed of Englishthings, followed, tracked him from place to place, and, finally, setupon him in a lonely spot, killed him, searched him, and found uponhim--this!--holding up a silver watch.
It was Ralph Denham's watch, Mr. Gilchrist knew it well. Moreover, ithad R. D. engraved upon it on the back. It had been a present to himfrom his mother before he sailed, he valued it extremely, and had itupon him when the _Pelican_ was abandoned, being almost the only thingof value which he had saved. Indeed, it was nearly the only trinketwhich he had ever possessed.
How it had fallen into the robber's hands could not now be ever known,for the man was dead. Had poor Denham escaped the tiger, been sparedfrom the fire, to fall a prey at last to a fellow-man? Had he been thevictim of other perils, and had the dacoit only found the watch in thejungle and appropriated it? Was the fellow even venturing to bring it infor the reward, and could he have told more of the gallant lad's fate?Who could say now?
Mr. Brudenel questioned the Burman closely, seeking confirmation of thestory in its every detail of place and time. The man knew nothing ofDenham, nor as to how the watch had fallen into the hands of the dacoit,who was one of a band of robbers that was harrying the mountain villagesat a little distance. The watch was useless to him evidently. It had rundown, and was silent. Either he had not possessed the key, or did notunderstand how to use it; and he had worn it round his neck as anornament in a conspicuous manner, which had attracted the Burman'snotice.
Mr. Gilchrist paid the offered reward in silence, carried the watch intothe house, and, laying it down, broke into a passion of grief which, fora time, admitted of no consolation.