Chapter VI: An Incident by the Way

Before venturing upon the streets, the fugitives, as they may now be called, had recourse to such disguises as were at their command. It so happened that at that time, the only servant with the family of the missionary was Luchman. A second servant, Ali Khan, had been called away two days before by the illness of his wife, and a third was absent for the evening. Living in a distant part of the city, the second had been given permission to remain away until ready to return, and he had not yet shown up. Since he was a Mohammedan, who, while impressed by the teachings of Christianity, had not yet made profession of the new faith, the family were rather relieved by his absence. Indeed they were not without strong doubts of his loyalty, and they would not have been surprised had he appeared among the fanatics that were certain to make a move before long against the missionary and his family.

The first preparation of the ladies consisted in an adoption of chuddars, or white shawls of muslin, which are common among the native women. These are worn over the head and drawn around the face so that only the eyes are visible when the wearer appears on the street. Enveloped by these cool coverings, there was good reason to hope that they could pass along the roads without attracting notice.

Luchman arranged turbans about the heads of Mr. Hildreth and Dr. Avery, tied with a skill peculiar to himself. The servants' quarters are never without several clean white muslin coats in order that the menials may make a seemly appearance at all times. The gentlemen each donned one of these, and thus the party at night were quite sure to pass muster, unless suspicion should lead to a close scrutiny as they sought to make their way toward the Cashmere Gate.

Luchman announced the painful necessity that the friends must separate, in order to draw less attention. No woman ever appears alone at night in any of the bazars, unless directly behind her husband. It was arranged, therefore, that Marian should walk behind Luchman, and Mrs. Hildreth immediately behind the missionary. They would part company as soon as the street was reached, and since all, with one exception, were familiar with the city, they were hopeful of reaching the Cashmere Gate without molestation.

Dr. Avery, being but slightly acquainted with the capital, was given the most direct route, which was explained with so much clearness to him, that he was as hopeful as the others. Indeed, with the spirits that were natural to him, he offered to wager Marian and Luchman that he would reach the rendezvous ahead of all.

The streets were unlighted by lamps, the paunchyats or groups of natives being gathered around the small fires kindled in many places on the ground. It was believed that these could be avoided without difficulty, though the bright moon in the unclouded sky required great caution in the movements of the fugitives.

Everything being ready, they stole out upon the nearest street as silently as so many shadows. Dr. Avery pressed the hand of Marian as he whispered a farewell, and begged her to maintain a brave heart, and to keep close behind her protector, Luchman. The brave girl uttered some reply which her lover did not catch, and, almost before he suspected it, he was threading his way alone through the narrow streets.

He was amazed by the throngs of people whom he met at every turn. It was yet early in the evening, and they seemed to be everywhere. Everybody was talking, and the chatter of tongues was like Babel itself. Now and then he heard an English word, or was able to catch the meaning of some expression in Hindustani. He was sure that every one related to the momentous subject of the mutiny.

All at once a greater uproar than usual broke out directly in front, and the swarm surged in that direction, led by the same headlong curiosity which controls a mob in a civilized city.

Avery pushed along with the others, and soon found that the cause of the tumult was a brawl among several men. Feeling no interest in such an affray, he was about to pass on, when one of the combatants leaped into the middle of the street, closely pressed by the others. It was then that the bright moonlight showed that the individual who was striving to disentangle himself was an Englishman, who was hard pressed by fully a dozen natives.

He was bareheaded, tall, muscular, and of great strength and activity. Had anything like fair play been shown, he would have vanquished the whole party, but it was clear he had been assailed by the mob, who were determined he should die.

Dr. Avery's bosom heaved with indignation, and it was hard to restrain the impulse to drive his way through the throng to the help of his imperiled countryman, but to do so would have been certain death. Unable to turn his back on the man that was making such a gallant fight for his life, he forced his hand into his pocket and grasped his revolver, in the hope that in the excitement he might fire several shots for his friend, without diverting the furious assault to himself.

So far as could be seen, the Englishman was acting on the defensive. He had no weapons in his hand, but he struck out, dodged and parried with a skill that showed him to be a master of the art of self defense. He would have knocked his assailants over and over but for the obstruction of the crowd behind them. But his blows were terrific, and beyond a doubt he cracked almost every skull against which he drove his fists with such tremendous force and lightning-like rapidity.

All the time the pale faced athlete was retreating or rather trying to retreat, and could he have shaken himself clear of the swarm but for a second, he would have gotten safely away, but he was so hemmed in by his assailants that escape was out of the question.

"God help you!" suddenly exclaimed Dr. Avery, unable to stand idle any longer, "I can't see you murdered like a dog! Out of my path, you infernal devils!"

It is hardly possible that this command, shouted in his own language, was heard by the wretches, most of whom were screeching and shouting themselves, but there were several close at hand who recognized the tongue and saw that another victim had run into their net. These natives, generally so afraid of foreigners, had become impudent and aggressive under the belief that all the infidel Christians were to be exterminated, root and branch, by the sepoys.

Dr. Avery cared nothing now about hiding his identity. He was struggling furiously and fighting his way to the side of his countryman. He was almost, if not quite, his equal in strength and activity, and the two would have made a brave battle with their backs against each other and their arms going like the piston rods of an engine.

The surgeon was forging ahead like a ship struggling in the trough of a sea, when a rasping howl from a score of throats told that he was identified, and the wretches made for him.

At this juncture, the stranger further out in the street did something which he ought to Have done before, though the act was as effective at one time as at another. Finding it impossible to extricate himself from the throng that pressed him so hard, he whipped out his revolver and fired five shots in rapid succession, wheeling quickly on his heel as he did so, by which maneuver he sent the bullets toward as many different points of the compass.

The natives were so plentiful that it was impossible to miss, and they went down like tenpins. The flashing of the weapon in their faces caused a panic for the moment. There was a wild scramble to get away from the desperate man, who had doubtless fired for the very purpose of creating this diversion.

It was the supreme moment for the Englishman, who bounded forward as if shot from a catapult, striking fiercely at every one within reach and clearing a path through which he dashed down the street like a frightened deer, his yellow hair streaming in the wind.

The sight of the fugitive running for life brought back the senses of the mob, and they swarmed after him. Dr. Avery was quick to see that this diversion gave him a chance to save himself during the moments that the attention of the heathen was drawn toward the flying fugitive.

Stepping quickly back into the shadow, he walked deliberately away without attracting notice.

"I would like to know whether they caught him," he muttered, full of solicitude for the stranger. "He knew what to do, and he got along a good deal better than he would had I reached his side. For that matter, it was mighty lucky for me that I failed. He can outrun all of those yawping devils, and, if he doesn't get tangled up in the streets, he has a good chance of giving them the slip--helloa! what's up now?"