Chapter THE EIGHTH: The Edge of the Storm

They swung themselves across the river hand over hand on the rope. On returning to the aeroplane Bob opened a box of sardines and took out of a biscuit tin some of the flat bread-cakes baked by the Chinese cook. But neither he nor Lawrence had any appetite. After a few minutes Lawrence got up.

"It's no good," he said. "I can't eat, and I can't rest. It would be different if we knew for certain that the old man was gone; it's the uncertainty that's so wearing. Do you see anything of the Pathans?"

Bob took his field-glass and went to the edge of the track, whence he had a scarcely interrupted view of a mile or more of the valley.

"No, they're not in sight," he said after a minute or two. "Shall we go and meet them?"

"I'm more inclined to go down-stream, on the off-chance that we may find something."

"All right. Better take our rifles, perhaps."

"Why? Nurla has got clean away by this time, whether Uncle is with him or not. You may be sure he wouldn't wait about."

"Well, we'll take our revolvers; it's just as well to have something handy. For all we know he may be resting behind some rock."

"With a rifle! Revolvers wouldn't be much use against that."

"Nor would rifles, now you mention it. He'd pot us before we saw him if he wanted to. All the same, we'll take our revolvers."

They swarmed across by the rope, gained the farther bank, and walked slowly down the track, scanning the rocky recesses as narrowly as before. They had scarcely any hope of finding their uncle's body; but while it remained undiscovered they were ready to search again and again. It was now near midday, and the sun beat fiercely upon them. For a time they were unconscious of the heat in the intentness of their occupation, and the foreboding anxiety that filled their minds; so that they had walked much farther than they supposed when they became alive to the fatigue induced by exertion in such a temperature. Then, wiping their perspiring brows, they sank down to rest on a flattish boulder overhanging the stream.

"We must give it up," said Bob wearily. "Unless Nurla has got him he's either at the bottom of the river, or else washed down miles by this time."

"I don't care about caving in altogether," said Lawrence. "It would be some satisfaction--a mournful one--to recover his body and give him decent burial."

"Poor old man! He wouldn't care a bit about that. What's more to the point is to hunt down the blackguards who killed him. That's what I propose to do as soon as our men come up. Some of them are sure to know the country, and with them on horseback and ourselves in the aeroplane, I'd take long odds that we find Nurla in time."

As they talked, they kept their eyes on the river, more from the habit engendered during the previous few hours than with any strong hope of their search being rewarded. Presently Lawrence, following with his eyes the foaming ripples as they swirled down-stream, caught sight of something that caused him to spring to his feet with a sudden ejaculation and lift the field-glass to his eyes.

"What is it?" asked Bob, rising also.

Lawrence handed him the glass. Far away he saw, rounding a bend in the track, a party of horsemen marching slowly in single file towards them. Their costume proclaimed them as Kalmucks, and though they were too far distant for their features to be distinguished, the shape of the foremost seemed to be that of the dwarf, Black Jack.

The watchers suddenly remembered the encampment over which they had flown earlier in the day. The same thought flashed simultaneously through their minds: the stealthy proceedings of Nurla in the mine and his subsequent disappearance had not, then, been prompted by an indefinite hope of gain; they had been deliberately planned, either in the knowledge of the proximity of a body of his fellow countrymen, or even in concert with them. There could hardly be a doubt that, as once before, an attempt was to be made to dispossess Mr. Appleton of his mine.

The boys stood watching only for a moment or two; then they dropped down, feeling instinctively that it behoved them to keep out of sight. But brief though their gaze had been, it was long enough to assure them that the approaching party was a numerous one. They counted a dozen men; others were coming round the bend, and they were strung out along the track. Every man had a fire-arm of some sort, a carbine, or a rifle, or a long musket like the Afghan jazail.

For the moment even the fate of their uncle was obliterated from the boys' minds by this astonishing discovery. They realized that their own lives and the safety of the mine were in danger. Hitherto their anxious thoughts had been fixed on one object alone; now they saw themselves faced with a much more complicated problem.

"We must get back," said Bob, insensibly lowering his tone of voice. "We can do nothing at present for Uncle. We must at least return to the aeroplane and wait to see what happens. I'm pretty sure I'm right: those fellows are being led by the dwarf--and Nurla too, I suspect--to the mine. Luckily we've plenty of time to fly back in the aeroplane and give warning."

"What then? If all those men we saw in the encampment are coming along, we haven't half enough men to prevent anything they like to do."

"I don't care about that. Uncle beat off an attack once, and if those fellows want the mine, by Jove! they shall have a fight for it."

"You're talking through your hat," said Lawrence, whose tastes and temperament were quite unmilitary, and who did not know his brother, perhaps, as well as might have been expected.

"Well, we'll get back, at any rate," rejoined Bob, ignoring the accusation. "And, if possible, without being seen."

They got up, and set off up-stream at a run, keeping as near as possible to the left-hand side of the track in order to escape observation. Only now did they discover how far they had come. The bridge was quite out of sight. They had not timed their walk, and had no means of knowing how many yards or even miles they had to cover before they should reach the aeroplane. The distance was in fact more than two miles, and the Kalmucks were only three-quarters of a mile behind them. The roughness of the track lessened the horsemen's advantage in being mounted; but the boys feared that, if they had been seen, the Kalmucks, pressing on the small, hardy ponies, accustomed to rough country, might overtake them before they had time to make good their escape across the river.

They were not long left in doubt whether they had been seen and were being pursued. They had been bounding along a straight stretch of the track, perhaps half a mile in length. Before they gained the farther end of it they heard the shrill shouts of the Kalmucks rising above the droning bass of the river. As they turned the corner, and passed out of sight, the sharp crack of rifles followed them; but the pursuers had not dismounted to take aim and had fired a thought too late. The only effect of the shots was to make the boys increase their speed, for they knew that the ponies must rapidly gain on them over the straight and fairly level portion of the track which they had just left. They pushed on gamely, hugging the cliffside as closely as possible, but being forced sometimes to diverge towards the river by the nature of the path. They looked anxiously ahead for a sight of the ruined bridge, and felt the shock of dismay, when, catching a partial glimpse of it at last, they found that they had still at least a mile to go.

The pursuers began to close in upon them. A scattered volley proved that they had again been seen. The Kalmucks were firing and loading as they rode--a mere waste of ammunition, as it might have seemed, but for an instant proof that these warriors of the steppes were no mean marksmen, even in full career. Bob's cap was struck from his head, and he discovered only by the blood trickling down his neck that he had been wounded. Lawrence, glancing over his shoulder, saw that it would be quite impossible to reach the bridge before the pursuers came up with them.

"We can't do it!" he gasped.

Bob said nothing. His mouth hardened, and he looked intently ahead. At a few yards' distance a jutting rock encroached upon the track, rendering it only just wide enough for a horseman to pass. On rounding it he halted.

"Down on the ground!" he panted. "Out with your revolver! There's nothing else for it."

They threw themselves down with their faces to the enemy, and covering themselves as well as they could with the corner of the rock, they held their revolvers ready to fire at the foremost of their pursuers.

"Wait till they are within a few yards of us," said Bob. "No good wasting shots at long range. They are bound to go slow."

They waited in breathless excitement. Lawrence the pacific was now as warlike as Bob himself. The enemy drew nearer. The narrowing of the track caused them to reduce their pace from a gallop to a trot, then to a walk. In the ardour of the chase their order had been changed; Black Jack was no longer in front.

The boys had just had time to pull themselves together when the first man came within range.

"Now!" said Bob, springing to his feet.

Showing themselves on the narrow path between the rock and the brink of the river they emptied four barrels rapidly, almost pointblank at the horsemen. The first two men dropped; the others, taken utterly aback, reined up, but were thrown into a huddled mass by the men pressing on behind. There was a moment's pause--a pause emphasized by cries of pain and fear, and the shrill screams of horses. Then the confused throng began to wheel about.

"Hold your fire!" whispered Bob, at the same moment emptying his two remaining barrels into the medley. Another man fell. It was enough. Reckless of everything but his own safety, each man urged his steed back along the track, and in a few moments all had passed out of sight.

"We win the first trick," said Bob, glancing at his brother. "Why, you're as pale as a ghost!"

"So are you," returned Lawrence.

"Well, it's our first experience of war, so I'm not surprised. But we must cut it. For one thing, my revolver's empty, and I've no more cartridges here. For another, those fellows will come back as soon as they've got over their surprise, and even if they funk a frontal attack, I dare say they can manage to clamber round somehow and turn our flank. Our only chance is to make a break for the bridge and get over if we can before they're fit to come on."

They started at once, and ran up the track, taking much comfort from the knowledge that the projecting rock would for some distance conceal them from the enemy. But after a few hundred yards the track both ascended and wound slightly to the right, bringing them once more into full view. They had no sooner reached this point than loud shouts behind them announced that the pursuit had been resumed. They glanced back, then ahead, measuring with their eyes the gaps that separated them from safety on the one hand, and capture on the other. A couple of bullets whistled over their heads, but the firing ceased, and they guessed that the enemy were confident of being able to overtake them. Such assurance was misplaced. The track in this part of the ravine, the scene of the morning's disaster, was particularly rugged, and gave no advantage to the mounted men. Moreover, there were at intervals isolated rocks behind which the boys could have posted themselves as they had already done, and the Kalmucks approached these heedfully, reining up until assured that they had no similar ambuscade to fear.

"Lucky they don't know we've only two shots between us," said Bob as he sprinted along by his brother's side. "A good spurt and we're home."

They were both good runners, though their want of training showed itself in a certain shortness of wind. They gained the bridge, saw at a glance that the pursuers were still several hundred yards away, and seizing the rope began to swing themselves hand over hand across the stream. At their previous crossings they had exercised some little caution, in case the rope should break under their weight. Now, however, they put everything to the hazard, realizing that to fall into the stream would be no worse than to be caught.

The Kalmucks had been informed by Nurla of the destruction of the bridge, and had anticipated an easy capture. When they saw the boys swinging themselves across they gave utterance to renewed shouts; some flung themselves from their horses and ran forward to swarm over in the same way: others reined up and once more began to fire. The fugitives were still some few feet from the farther side, and momentarily expected to be hit, when there was a sudden diversion in their favour. They heard shouts in the opposite direction, from beyond the rocks on the other side of the clear space on which the aeroplane rested. Immediately afterwards several rifle shots rang out. For a second they halted in their progress, in the fear that they were the targets of another hostile band. But next instant it flashed into Bob's mind that the volley must have been fired by their own Pathans, whose arrival they had long expected.

"Come on, Law," he cried. "We're all right now."

With three more heaves he was upon the bank. He turned to assist his brother; then both scurried across the open space, past the aeroplane, and dashed into safety behind the screen of rocks, where they were received with shouts of delight by the five stalwart Pathans who lay there in a line with their rifles at their shoulders.

For the moment they were not aware of the effect of the volley. It had brought the Kalmucks to a sudden check. One of those who were scrambling across the rope dropped into the river; the rest swung themselves round and struggled frantically in the opposite direction. Two or three of those who had halted on the track were wounded; and their comrades, realizing that they were helpless against marksmen under cover, wheeled round and made a hurried flight down the river, not drawing rein until they had passed the intervening rocks and were themselves protected. Those who had followed the boys sprang to their saddles and galloped away; but one of them was winged before he had ridden many yards. He fell from his pony, which dashed on in pursuit of the rest and was soon lost to sight, the man rising and limping after.

The Pathans chuckled as they rose to their feet.

"That was well done," said one of them, named Fyz Ali. "But where is the huzur?"

He turned to the boys, who, feeling thoroughly exhausted by the stress and strain of this eventful morning, had flung themselves down, and lay at full length with their heads resting on their arms.

At the man's words Lawrence looked up. He had learnt enough of the Pathan patois to understand and to make himself understood, though he could not yet sustain a lengthy conversation. In a few words, haltingly, he explained what had happened to his uncle. The Pathans threw up their hands in consternation, invoking the name of Allah and pouring out a torrent of curses upon Nurla Bai and the Kalmucks. Mr. Appleton was very popular among them, and the news of his loss, and of the escape of the assassin, filled them with dismay and rage.

"Beyond doubt the huzur is dead," said Fyz Ali, pulling at his beard. "Allah is great! The huzur could not live, falling wounded into the swift water. He sank like a stone, and lies at the bottom. We shall cast dust upon our heads for our father."

"You were just in time to save us," said Lawrence.

"Allah be praised! We were riding down, and came to the wonderful machine, and when we saw that the bridge was broken we knew that we must wait until the huzur returned. Therefore we got off our horses and were resting and eating when we heard shots afar off, and believed the huzur was doing justice upon Nurla Bai. But looking down the stream we perceived the sahibs running, and the accursed Kalmucks after them, and I said we must hide behind the rocks and fire when the time came. And by the mercy of Allah we were able to save the sahibs, and our hearts are glad; but our joy is turned to grief by this heavy news. Our light is become darkness, and we are as little children."

Lawrence then told in detail, as well as he could, the events of the morning. When he spoke of the encampment on the plateau, Fyz Ali at once agreed that Nurla Bai must have known of the proximity of his fellow countrymen, and that an attack upon the mine was clearly intended.

"What are we to do, sahib?" he asked.

Before Lawrence could reply, the air was rent by the crackle of rifles, and a shower of bullets hissed overhead, some pattering upon the rocks. Some of the Pathans had incautiously shown themselves, and the enemy had opened fire from their position down the river. They instantly ducked under cover, and gathered in a group about their young masters, to consult on their course of action.

"How many Kalmucks did you see?" asked Lawrence.

"We did not count them, sahib," said Fyz Ali, "but there must have been nearly thirty. There are not so many now," he added with a grim chuckle.

"And we number seven all told!" said Lawrence. "Look after the men while I talk to my brother."

"We're in a hole," said Bob. "The fellows aren't great marksmen, but we can't move the aeroplane while they command the space in front. They're only about a quarter of a mile away, and with a score of rifles they couldn't help hitting us."

"What was your idea?"

"To get aloft and fly down-stream to reconnoitre. I should like to know whether the rest of them are coming up from the camp. But that's out of the question."

"We're safe for the present, anyhow. They can't cross while we command the bridge."

"That's true. I wonder whether they can climb the hills, and get at us from above. You might ask Fyz Ali whether he knows of a path."

The Pathan consulted with his companions. One of them said that he knew of a rough path a mile lower down the river, which led by a tortuous and difficult course over the hills; but it involved a round of nearly ten miles, and the march would take at least five hours.

"By that time it will be dark," said Bob. "It's something to know that we are safe till then, and it gives us time to think out a plan. The one thing that's clear at present is that we must get back to the mine."

"And Uncle?"

"We can do absolutely nothing more. In spite of what Fyz Ali said, I can't help thinking that he may be still alive. If he were drowned, his body must have come up."

"And the Kalmucks would kill him if they found him."

"I'm not so sure. He'd be a valuable hostage. They might bring him up to the mine, and make our surrender a condition of his release."

"With all my heart I hope it is so. But suppose they haven't got him?"

"We must get back to the mine and do our best to hold it. That's what he'd wish us to do. But look here, old chap, we've eaten next to nothing. It's no good letting ourselves down. Ask Fyz Ali to give us some of his tommy; we can't get our own; and when we've had a feed we'll decide what's to be done."