CHAPTER THE TWELFTH
A SKIRMISH ON THE BANK
Lawrence, riding behind Fyz Ali, reflected with rueful amusement on thefate which had made him a sort of soldier in his own despite. "I'm notcut out for this kind of job," he thought. "Bob would be elated athaving shivered through a night watch, and beaten off an attack. Idon't feel particularly jolly; in fact, I feel thoroughly rotten; andthere's more to come, worse luck."
It is said that the greatest commanders have felt depressed rather thanexalted after a victory; so that, remembering the hardships andanxieties of the past twenty-four hours, one can sympathize withLawrence Appleton. It did not occur to him that he had come through hisrecent ordeal with much credit, and he was quite unaware that thePathans ahead were discussing him as they rode, summing him up, anddeciding that the chota sahib was a first-rate fighting man.
After riding at a trot for about half a mile, Lawrence said:
"Now I'll get off and walk, Fyz Ali. The pony's lagging."
"Not so, sahib," replied the man. "I will walk; the sahib is used to asofter life."
"The more reason why I should harden myself."
"That is true, sahib; but it is foolishness to yoke a calf to anox-wagon."
By which Lawrence understood that this stalwart man regarded him asstill an ungrown boy. He made no more objection; Fyz Ali dismounted,and kept pace with him over the rugged ground to which they had nowcome.
Thus the little party marched for another mile. They went for the mostpart in single file, the track only rarely widening so much as to givethem room to ride abreast. It was at one of such broader stretches thata sudden demand was made upon Lawrence's quickness and resource. He wasriding in front with two of the Pathans; the other two mounted men werea few yards behind, with Fyz Ali on foot between them. Quite suddenly,about two hundred yards ahead, there came into view from round a highrock a band of at least a score of men, marching towards them. Lawrencehad been expecting to meet the Pathan reinforcements from the mine, andhe might at the first moment have mistaken the strangers but for asavage yell from the men at his side. Then he recognized in a flashthat they were Kalmucks.
Both parties had momentarily halted; each was as much surprised as theother. Then, as Lawrence saw some of the Kalmucks lifting rifles totheir shoulders, he became instantly alive to the situation. Without amoment's hesitation he dug his heels into the flanks of his pony, and,shouting to his men to come on, he rode straight at the enemy. It wasthe psychological moment. The Kalmucks were apparently without a leader;or their leader, if they had one, was a shade less quick-witted than theEnglishman. With a spirited captain the warlike Pathans will goanywhere and do anything. Responding to his call with a truemountaineer's yell the men urged their steeds to a gallop, and swoopeddown upon the still hesitating enemy.
Lawrence could not have decided better if all the circumstances had beenknown to him. Some of the Kalmucks, after the failure of their nightattack, had crossed the river some distance below the bridge, andmarching on foot for long hours in the darkness over the difficult andtortuous path through the hills, had turned back along the track to takethe defenders in the rear. They were weary: they had no regular leader;and being accustomed to fight on horseback they were demoralized at thesight of mounted Pathans, few as they were, galloping straight at them.With a well-directed volley they might have annihilated the little band;but they let the opportunity slip. A few stood their ground and fired;the rest took flight, and while some scurried up the hill-side, seekingcover in the broken ground, where horses could not well follow them,others turned tail and bolted straight back along the track.
The few shots thus wildly fired missed all the Pathans save one, and hewas only scratched. Lawrence and his men pressed their advantage. Two ofthe Pathans wheeled to the right, and in spite of the steepness of thehill-side and the many natural obstacles, they dashed up in pursuit ofthe fleeing Kalmucks, cutting down several with their terrible tulwarsbefore they could reach safety. Lawrence rode straight at the men whohad fired. He overturned one by the impact of his horse, struck anotherdown with his clubbed rifle, and then led his men after the others, whowere running, some up, some down the bank. Two or three Kalmucks spranginto the river; within ten minutes the whole body was completelyscattered. Only at the last did one who had climbed to an inaccessiblecrag on the hill-side and recovered from his panic, take good aim androll a Pathan from his horse with a mortal wound.
The charge was over; the victory was complete; and Lawrence reined uphis panting pony. Not till then did he remember that Fyz Ali was notmounted, and must have been left far behind. What had become of him?Lawrence turned and looked back along the track. He was not in sight.
"Stay here," he said to the Pathans; "I'll go back and look for FyzAli."
"Hai, sahib!" said one of the men, "it is foolishness. See, Ayoub isdead. Some of the dogs of Kalmucks are hiding behind the rocks above;they will shoot you even as they shot Ayoub."
"Nonsense: I'm riding Fyz Ali's horse: I can't leave him in the lurch."
He rode back along the track, and after a moment's hesitation one of thePathans followed him. Warned by the fate of Ayoub they proceeded withcaution, scanning the hill-side for signs of the enemy. For half a mileor more they saw neither foe nor friend, except the bodies of those whohad fallen in the fray. Then they came in view of a strange procession.At this point the hill-side to the left of the track rose so steeply asto be unscalable. It was here that the Kalmucks, hard pressed, hadflung themselves into the river. A few hundred yards ahead they saw twomen approaching them, walking slowly backward. One of them was Fyz Ali,the other a Kalmuck. Fyz Ali had the man by the middle, holding him sothat he formed a screen against a dozen Kalmucks who were slipping fromrock to rock on the hill-side some distance beyond. Evidently they werewatching for a chance to take a shot at the Pathan, but were baffled byhis ingenious device. By keeping the prisoner constantly between him andthem, he rendered it impossible for them to fire without the risk ofhitting their own man.
Smiling with appreciation of Fyz Ali's manoeuvre, Lawrence dismounted,and ordered his man to dismount also. Then leading the ponies behind arock, they knelt down, took aim at the distant Kalmucks, and fired. Itwas doubtful whether their shots took effect, but they checked thepursuit, and Fyz Ali seized the opportunity to hasten his retreat.Hugging the perpendicular wall, he came nearer and nearer, never loosinghis hold of the Kalmuck, nor allowing his own person to be exposed.
The Kalmucks beyond returned Lawrence's fire, but they made no attemptto advance. They were not equal to the desperate venture of leavingtheir cover among the rocks and running the gauntlet along the openspace which Fyz Ali and his prisoner were now traversing. In anothertwo minutes the Pathan had joined his master.
"That was well done," said Lawrence, welcoming him.
Fyz Ali, breathing hard, set his prisoner against the rock, and holdinghim there with his left hand, drew his tulwar.
"No, no," said Lawrence hastily.
"Why, sahib? He is a Kalmuck," said Fyz Ali, and his eyes glared as helooked round.
"It is not our way," said Lawrence, "to kill prisoners. And he isunarmed."
"But I am not!" growled the Pathan. "Would he not kill me? Did notNurla Bai try to kill Muhammad, unarmed and sleeping? It will be short,sahib."
"No, I can't allow it. Tie his hands together so that he can do nomischief; then we'll leave him to his friends."
Fyz Ali muttered between his teeth, but obeyed. He tore off the man'scoat; it was dripping wet; the Kalmuck was one of those who had sprunginto the river, and he had clambered up the bank in the nick of time toserve the quick-witted Pathan as a screen. With a few strokes of histulwar Fyz Ali slit the coat into shreds, with which he bound thetrembling man's hands together. Then, striking him heavily on theface--the Pathan is not chivalrous towards his enemies--he hauled him tothe top of a rock, and left him there.
; Lawrence and the two Pathans then hastened back to the place where theyhad left the others. These had given their dead comrade burial in theriver. Then all resumed their march. They looked back whenever theyreached a spot where they could get a view of the track behind them, butthere was no sign of pursuit.
"They must have come over the hills in the night," said Lawrence,walking beside Fyz Ali, whom he had insisted on remounting. "Where doesthe hill-path join the track?"
"I know not, sahib," replied the man. "The Kalmucks know the path: itis their country."
"Well, keep your eyes open as we go, and see if you can find it. We mayas well know."
They scanned the hill-side narrowly, and about twenty minutes laterLawrence noticed a narrow cleft in the precipice above the track whichmight possibly be the lower end of the hill-path. He stopped andexamined the ground at the entrance, but it was so hard that the skinboots of the Kalmucks could have left no trace on it. Had they beenmounted, the hoof marks would have been easily discoverable. Lawrenceglanced up the winding cleft. It seemed an unlikely enough passage-way;indeed, at a height of several hundred feet above the track it appearedto come abruptly to an end. Lawrence deliberated for a few momentswhether to climb and satisfy himself one way or the other; but decidedthat he had better not delay.
Ten minutes later they met the reinforcements from the mine. The menhad heard firing in the distance and hurried on at full speed. Onlearning from their comrades of what had happened, they were eager topush on and annihilate the surviving Kalmucks, and one of them, whenLawrence refused to go back, muttered under his breath that theEnglishman was afraid. Fyz Ali caught the words, and turned fiercely onthe man.
"I'll slit your throat if you talk foolishness, Hosein," he said. "Thechota sahib is a man; get that into your silly head. Did he not fightat the bridge? And when we met those Kalmuck pigs, did he not in atwinkling see what was to be done, and ride straight at them, cheeringas the sahibs always do? And when I was left behind, he came back forme, though the dogs were hidden among the rocks and had just killedAyoub. He is a man, I tell you; mashallah! what he says is good, andwhat he does is better, and I will cut your hand off if you do not swearto follow wherever he leads."
"Peace, brother," said the man. "How was I to know? His beard is notyet grown. Allah is great! All the sahibs are men, even in thecradle."
The Air Patrol: A Story of the North-west Frontier Page 14
