CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
IN THE ENEMY'S HAND.
For a while the scowling barbarian contemplated Campian from under hisshaggy brows. Then he gave an order to his followers. There steppedforward a man. This fellow had a villainous cast of countenance and asquint. He was of mixed blood, being a cross between Baluch andPunjabi. He had been at one time a _chuprassi_ in a Government office,and talked English fairly well.
"Chief say--you know who he is?" he began.
"Can't say I do."
"Chief say--you ever see him before?"
"Can't be sure of that either. Yet, I have an idea I saw him once whilehaving a friendly talk with the Sirdar Yar Hussain Khan."
At mention of the Sirdar's name, a faint show of interest seemed to comeinto the saturnine features of those around. Then the interpreter wenton:
"Dis chief--he Umar Khan."
The interest wherewith he would have received this announcement wasdashed with a feeling as of the last glimmer of hope extinguished. Itwas bad enough to know that he was in the power of a revengefulbarbarian with every motive for nourishing a deadly grudge againsthimself, but that this man should turn out to be the famous outlaw,whose savage and cruel nature was a matter of notoriety--well, he feltas good as dead already.
Now he recognised that Umar Khan's object in leading the Ghazi outbreakwas not merely that of indiscriminate bloodshed, or even plunder. Itwas to get possession of himself--for the purpose of wreaking somedeadly vengeance which he shuddered to contemplate--and well he might.
"Tell Umar Khan," he said, "that the money we have promised him will bepunctually paid--and that when I am back among my friends again inShalalai I will add to it another two thousand rupees."
The outlaw chief received the rendering of this with a contemptuousgrunt, and continued to glare none the less vindictively upon hisprisoner. Then he gave certain orders, in the result of which those whohad horses prepared to mount them, the remainder following on foot; forthose Marris who had been surprised into participating in the massacrehad now decided to cast in their lot with Umar Khan. A steed was alsoprovided for Campian, but over and above being an inferior beast, acheck rein, held by one of his custodians, was passed through the bit.
Before they set forth, however, the leader issued another order, and inthe result there stepped out from the stationmaster's house two men. Tohis surprise the hostage recognised in these Bhallu Khan and the otherforest guard. So these were the traitors? These had brought this crewof cut-throat murderers down upon them--and would share in the spoil.Such was his first thought, but he had never made a greater mistake inhis life; the fact being that the two foresters were as innocent ofcomplicity as he himself. They had been squatting outside the stationafter bidding farewell to their official superior. As fellow countrymenand fellow believers, the Ghazis had refrained from putting them to thesword, but had ordered them to remain within the outbuilding while thework of blood and plunder proceeded--and neither to come forth nor tolook forth on pain of death. Now they were released. But first UmarKhan treated them to a long harangue, to which they listened withprofound attention.
Campian--hailing the man who had acted as interpreter--told him to askthe chief if he might write a line to the Colonel Sahib and send it bythe foresters. A curt refusal was returned, and he was ordered tomount.
As the band receded over the plain, from its midst he could see thewhite figures of the two foresters moving along the platform--but noothers. Yes--he could. He could make out Vivien's figure. He thoughthe knew what was in her mind as she strained her glance over that amountof space, if haply she might distinguish him in that throng ofretreating forms--and it seemed to him that their very souls went forthto each other and met in blissful reconciliation. Then all was shutfrom his gaze. The band was entering the black portal of a great_tangi_.
The sight of its smooth rock walls brought back the recollection of thatother day, and the result was, on the whole, a cheering one. Then howsore had been his strait. He had come through it, however. Why notagain?
At sundown they halted, and spreading their chuddas and putting offtheir shoes, the whole band proceeded to perform their devotions in mostapproved fashion. Behind them lay the mangled remains of theirunoffending and defenceless victims, slaughtered in cold blood; but thenthese were heathens and infidels, and to slay such was a meritoriousact. So these sons of the desert and the mountain prayed in thedirection of Mecca with enhanced faith and fervour.
Throughout half the night they travelled onward. Onward and upward, forthey seemed to be ascending higher and higher among the jagged mountaincrests. The wind blew piercingly cold, and Campian shivered. Theythrew him an old poshteen or fur-lined coat, and this he was glad topull round him in spite of qualms lest it should already be more or lessthickly populated. Soon after midnight they halted, and building alarge fire under an overhanging rock, lay down beside it. Campian, wornout with fatigue and the reaction after the day's excitement, went intoa heavy dreamless sleep.
He was awakened by a push. It seemed as though he had been asleep butfive minutes, whereas in point of fact it must have been nearly midday,so high in the heavens was the sun. He looked forth. Piles ofmountains in chaotic masses heaved up around; all stones and slag; notrees, no herbage worthy of the name. One of the Baluchis handed him abowl of rice, cold and insipid, and a chunk of mahogany lookingsubstance, which smelt abominably rancid--and which he turned from withloathing. It was in fact a hunk of dried and salted goat flesh. Havinggot outside the first article of diet, he remembered ruefully how he hadbeen cheerful over the prospect of seeing something of the inner life ofthe lively Baluchi, but this, as a beginning, was decidedlydiscouraging.
This appeared to be a favourite halting place, judging from the oldmarks of fires everywhere around, and a better hiding place it seemedhard to imagine, such an eyrie was it, perched up here out of reach,where one might pass below again and again and never suspect itsexistence. The band seemed in no hurry, resting there the entire day.Part of this the hostage turned to account by trying to win over thegood offices of the squint-eyed cross-breed.
This worthy, who rejoiced in the name of Buktiar Khan, was notindisposed to talk. He too was promised a largesse when the prisonershould be set at liberty.
"What you do to dis chief?" he said, in reply to this.
"Eh? I don't quite follow."
"Dis chief, he hate you very much. What you do to him?"
"Oh, I see," and the prisoner's heart sank. His chances of escapingdeath--and that in some ghastly and barbarous form--looked slighter andslighter. "I never harmed him, that I know of for certain. I neverharmed anyone except in fair fight. If he has suffered any injury fromme it must be in that way. Tell him, Buktiar, if you get theopportunity, and if you don't, make the opportunity--that a man with thename for bravery and dash that he has made does not bear a grudge overinjuries received in fair and open fight. You understand?"
"I un'stand--when you slow speak. Baluchi, he very cross man. Youstrike him, he strike you. You kill him, his one brother, two brother,kill you, if not dis year, then next year."
A rude interruption there and then occurred to bear out the other'swords. Campian, who was seated on the ground at the time, felt himselfseized from behind and flung violently on his back. Half-a-dozen sinewyruffians had laid hold of him, and he was powerless to move. Bendingover him was the savage face of Umar Khan, stamped with the sameexpression of diabolical malignity as it had worn when he had firstbeheld it.
"O dog," began the outlaw, pushing his now helpless prisoner with hisfoot, "dost guess what I am going to do with thee?"
"Put an end to me, I suppose," answered Campian wearily, when this hadbeen rendered. "But it doesn't seem fair. I yielded myself up on theunderstanding that I should only be detained until the five thousandrupees were paid. And now I have promised you two thousand more. Whatdo you gain by my death?"
Buktiar duly translated this, an
d the Baluchi answered:
"What do I gain? Revenge--blood for blood. But hearken. I hadintended to strike off thy head, but thou shalt have thy life. Yet ifUmar Khan must walk lame for the remainder of his life, why should thedog whose bite rendered him lame walk straight? Answer that, dog--pig--answer that," growled the barbarian, grinding his teeth, and workinghimself up into a frenzy of vindictive rage. "Tell him what I said justnow, Buktiar--that a brave man never bears malice for wounds received infair fight," was the answer.
But this appeal was lost on Umar Khan. He spat contemptuously and wenton.
"I had meant to strike off thy head, thou pig, but will be merciful. AsI walk lame, thou shalt walk lame. I will strike off both thy feetinstead."
A cold perspiration broke out from every pore as this was translated tothe unfortunate man. Even if he survived the shock and agony of thisfrightful mutilation, the prospect of going through life maimed andhelpless, and all that it involved--Oh, it was too terrible.
"I would rather die at once," he said. "It will come to that, for Ishall bleed to death in any case."
"Bleed to death? No, no. Fire is a good _hakim_," [Physician], repliedthe Baluchi, with the laugh of a fiend. "Turn thy head and look."
Campian was just able to do this, though otherwise powerless to move.Now he noticed that the fire near which they had been sitting had beenblown into a glow, and an old sword blade which had been thrust in itwas now red hot. The perspiration streamed from every pore at theprospect of the appalling torment to which they were about to subjecthim. Not even the thought that this was part of the forfeit he had topay for the saving of Vivien availed to strengthen him. Unheroic as itmay sound, there was no room for other emotion in his mind than that ofhorror and shrinking fear. The ring of savage, turbaned countenancesthrust forward to witness his agony were to him at that moment as thefaces of devils in hell.
Umar Khan drew his tulwar and laid its keen edge against one of thehelpless man's ankles.
"Which foot shall come off first?" he snarled. "You, Mohammed, have thehot iron ready."
He swung the great curved blade aloft, then down it came with a swish.Was his foot really cut off? thought the sufferer. It had been done sopainlessly. Ah, but the shock had dulled the agony! That would followimmediately.
Again the curved blade swung aloft. This time it was quietly lowered.
"Let him rise now," said Umar Khan, with a devilish expression ofcountenance which was something between a grin and a scowl.
Those who held him down sprang off. In a dazed sort of way Campian roseto a sitting posture and stared stupidly at his feet. No mutilatedstump spouting blood met his gaze. The vindictive savage had beenplaying horribly upon his fears. He was unharmed.
"I have another thought," said Umar Khan, returning his sword to itsscabbard. "I will leave thee the use of thy feet until to-morrowmorning. Then thou shalt walk no more."
The prospect of a surgical amputation, even when carried out with allthe accessories of scientific skill, is not conducive to a placid frameof mind, by any means. What then must be that of a cruel mutilation,with all the accompaniments of sickening torture, for no other purposethan to gratify the vindictive spite of a barbarian? The reaction fromthe acute mental agony he had undergone had rendered Campian strangelyhelpless. It was a weariful feeling, as though he would fain have donewith life, and in his desperation he glanced furtively around to see ifit would not be possible to snatch a weapon and die, fighting hard. Adesire for revenge upon the ruffian who had subjected him to suchoutrage then came uppermost. Could he but seize a tulwar, Umar Khanshould be his first victim, even though he himself were cut to piecesthe next moment. But he had no opportunity. The Baluchis guarded theirweapons too carefully.
"Does that devil really mean what he says, Buktiar?" he took occasion toask, "or is he only trying to scare me?"
"He mean it," replied the cross-breed, somewhat gloomily, for were theprisoner injured the prospect of his own reward seemed to vanish. "Oncehe cut off one man's feet--and hands too--and leave him on the mountain.Plenty wolf that part--dey eat him."
This was cheering. How desperate was his strait, here, in the power ofthese cruel savages--in the heart of a ghastly mountain waste that amonth or two ago he had never heard of--even now he did not know wherehe was. Their route the day before had been so tortuous that he couldnot guess how near or how far they had travelled from any locality knownto him.
"I will give you a thousand rupees, Buktiar, if you help me to escape,"he said. "If you can't help me, but do nothing to prevent me, I'll giveyou five hundred."
The cross-breed squinted diabolically as he strove to puzzle out how hewas to earn this reward. Like most Asiatics he was acquisitive andmoney loving, and to be promised a rich reward, and yet see no prospectof being able to earn it, was tantalising to the last degree. He shookhis head in his perplexity.
"Money good, life better," he said. "Dey see me help you--then I dead.What I do?"
Then Umar Khan spoke angrily, and in the result Buktiar left the side ofthe prisoner, with whom he had no further opportunity of converse thatday.
The night drew down in gusty darkness. A misty drizzle filled the air,and it was piercingly cold. The Baluchis huddled round their fires,having lighted two, and presently their deep-toned drowsy conversationceased. One by one they dropped off to sleep.
Then a desperate resolve took hold of Campian's mind. He was unbound,and, to all appearances, unguarded--why should he not make the attempt?Any death was preferable to the horrible prospect which morning lightwould bring. He might be cut down or shot in the attempt. Equallygreat was the probability of coming to a violent end among the cliffsand chasms of this savage mountain waste. No sooner resolved upon thanhe arose, and, drawing his poshteen tighter round him, walkeddeliberately forth; stepping over the unconscious forms of the sleepingBaluchis. His very boldness aided him. None moved. In a moment he wasalone in the darkness outside.
A thrill of exultation ran through his veins. Yet what was there toexult over? He was alone upon the wild mountain side--unarmed, andwithout food--in a perfectly unknown land. Every step he took fairlybristled with peril. The wind increased in volume; the rain pattereddown harder. He could not see an inch in front of him. Any momentmight find him plunging from some dizzy height to dash himself into athousand fragments and Eternity. Here again his very desperation savedhim. Trusting entirely and blindly to luck, he skirted perils thatwould have engulfed a more careful and less desperate man. Anythingrather than a repetition of his experience of that day.
On through the darkness--on ever. The howl of a wolf ranging themountain side was now and then borne to his ears upon the wind and rain:and more than once the dislodgment of a loose stone or two, and its faraway thud, after a momentary space of silence, told that he was skirtingsome vast height, whether of cliff or _tangi_--but even that failed tochill his blood. He was moving--his energies were in action. That wasthe great thing. He was no longer cold now. The exertion had warmedhim. He felt more and more exultant.
Yet with morning light his enemies would be upon his track. Here, amongtheir native rocks and crags, what chance had he against thesepersistent, untiring hillmen? The savage hatred of Umar Khan, enhancedby being deprived of a sure and certain prey, would strain every sourceto effect his recapture. Well, he had the long night before him, andthe darkness and turbulence of the night were all in his favour.
If only he had some idea of his locality. The tidings of the outragewould have reached Shalalai, and by now a strong military force wouldhave been moved up to Mehriab station to investigate the scene of themassacre, and follow up its perpetrators. But he had no idea in whichdirection Mehriab station lay, or what mountain heights might have to becrossed before he could gain it.
Morning dawned. Weary eyed, haggard, exhausted with many hours of theroughest kind of walking, stumbling over boulders and stones, bruised,faint for want of food, the fugitiv
e still held on. He was descendinginto a long, deep valley, whose sides were covered with juniper forest.Shelter, at any rate, its sparse growth might afford him. Ha! He knewnow where he was. It was the Kachin valley.
Yes, in the widening dawn every familiar feature was made more plain.He had come over the high _kotal_ which he and Bhallu Khan had climbedto when stalking markhor. There was the spur which shut out ChirriaBach, and away up yonder the forest bungalow. Could he gain the latterhe could obtain food, of which he stood sorely in need, as well as armsand ammunition. Some of the servants were still there. They would haveheard nothing of the tragedy on the railway line, and would bemomentarily expecting the return of the household. Turning to the righthe struck off straight for the house, full of renewed hope.
But that huge, practical joke entitled Life is, in its pitiless irony,fond of dashing such. He had barely travelled half a mile when a rattleof stones on the mountain side above arrested his attention. A score ofturbaned figures were clambering down the rocks. Spread out in a halfcircle formation they were nearly upon him. There was no escape. UmarKhan and his savage freebooters were not going back on their reputationjust yet. The fugitive's long night of peril, and labour, andperseverance, had all gone for nothing. Several of the Ghazis werealready pointing their rifles, and in loud, harsh tones were calling onhim to halt.