CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FOURTH
A CHECK
The night passed undisturbed. Bob was almost sorry. As the slow hourscrept towards midnight, when Lawrence would relieve him, he would havewelcomed an opportunity for action. It was bitter cold. He dared notkindle a watch-fire, and so enlighten the enemy about his arrangements.Remembering Lawrence's similar vigil forty miles down, he said tohimself: "The kid's a good plucked one. He'd have made a first-ratesoldier, or political officer, or anything. Pity we're both so hardup!"
Suddenly he bethought himself of the mass of ore which had been tumbledinto the cavity in the bank just above the Pathan miners' compound. Itmust weigh many tons, and according to Mr. Appleton's calculations,sixty per cent. of it was pure silver. Bob did not know the marketprice of the metal, but the quantity that had been mined must representa considerable sum of money. The exciting incidents of the last fewdays had kept his thoughts engrossed with strategy and tactics; and thenotion that the mine was itself a valuable property, worth defending forits own sake, came almost with a shock of surprise.
"Who is the owner now?" he thought. "Did Uncle leave a will? I supposewe are his heirs, but what's the law of inheritance in these parts?"
And then the recollection of his uncle's recent death caused a revulsionof feeling. It was quite unreasonable to shrink from the thought ofbenefiting by Mr. Appleton's decease; but affection and high-mindedinstinct sometimes get the better of reason, and he dismissed thesubject, still with a vague hope that his uncle would even yet return tohis own.
At midnight Lawrence came with a squad of men to relieve him.
"All's well then?" he said.
"Yes; I haven't heard a murmur."
"Well, cut off and get a sleep. I'm good for a spell till daylight.Shan Tai has given me a splendid feed. We're lucky in our men, Bob. AsI was eating I overheard Shan Tai talking with Chunda Beg. 'What youtinkee?' says Shan Tai. They'd evidently been discussing the situation.'I say not one of the dogs will ever poke his nose within our walls,'said the khansaman. 'When the huzur told me that two boys were comingto live here I was sick in mind. Some of the Feringhi boys call usniggers, and speak to us as if we were mud. Our sahibs are not so.They do not sniff and curse and use us as if we were beasts and not men.What say you, cook man?' 'Say what you say allo lighto,' says Shan Tai.'Likee young massa plenty muchee. Big lot fightee men come all-same.No can fightee big lot long time.' 'Wah!' says Chunda. 'The two sahibsare worth thousands of those dogs of Kalmucks, and if Allah keeps themalive we shall smite and smite until the Sirkar sends help. Only givethem good food, cook man.' 'Makee chow-chow first-chop,' says Shan Tai,and the old chap gave a chuckle. He's a jolly good sort."
Lawrence had said that they were lucky in their men; it did not occur tohim that the fragment of conversation he reported showed rather that themen thought themselves lucky in their masters.
The day broke, and still the enemy had made no movement. As soon as itwas light Bob had the field gun dragged over the bridge to thebreastwork. Lawrence reported that the enemy had begun to erect a newrampart some distance down the track.
"They surely don't imagine that we're going to take the offensive," hesaid.
"No. It probably means that they'll snipe at us from behind it. Go andget your breakfast and come back as soon as you can."
Bob considered whether to interfere with the enemy's work, but decidedthat he had better husband his ammunition. Some two hours later, afterLawrence's return, the enemy began firing across their new breastwork.At the same time a number of them were seen skirmishing along the track,making short rushes from rock to rock. The track itself was only thirtyor forty feet wide, straight and comparatively smooth. But the cliffface was very rugged, affording a certain amount of cover. Skirmishingfrom point to point, where the cliff jutted out or receded, or wheresingle fragments of rock had fallen to the side of the track, the enemyadvanced under cover of the fire from their breastwork until they hadcome about halfway to the position of the defenders. Some scrambled upthe cliff here and there for a few yards so as to obtain a better viewof the men sheltered by the entrenchment. Bob refused to allow his mento make a general reply to their fire. He knew that they could notapproach beyond a certain point, the track being open and the amount ofcover diminishing as they drew nearer. Now and then, when one of themadvanced too far ahead of his fellows, he permitted the best marksman totry his skill, and two or three of the enemy were hit. One of his ownmen also, incautiously exposing himself, fell back with a gash in hisarm. Except for this, the day passed without casualties, and therelative positions of the two parties were the same.
The garrison were greatly delighted that the end of the second day foundthe situation unaltered. Only five days of the critical week remained,and some of them already saw themselves at the end of their probation.Bob hinted that they were not yet out of the wood, but he was gladenough to see how high-spirited and confident they were. For his ownpart, he relaxed nothing of his care and vigilance. He was still on hisguard against a night attack, and as an extra precaution, he sent two ofthe Sikhs to creep in the darkness along the track between the enemy'sbreastwork and his own, to give instant warning if they should see orhear any signs of movement.
But the peace of the night remained unbroken. During the early part ofthe next day, even, there was no sniping or skirmishing as before. Bobaugured ill of this inactivity. He would have been more at ease if theenemy had pursued their ineffective tactics, and would indeed havewelcomed a rush, which he felt himself able to repel. He could not butbelieve that they were gathering their strength, perhaps waiting for thesupport of more artillery, and he had an instinctive dread that the nextassault would be a much more formidable affair.
Soon after noon his prescience was rudely justified. Suddenly, withoutany warning, two guns opened fire from the enemy's breastwork. Lawrenceat once offered to set off in the aeroplane and repeat his work with thebombs; but Bob would not allow it, partly because of the scarcity ofpetrol and dynamite, partly from a fear that the enemy, now betterprepared, would have detailed a certain number specially to aim at theaeroplane in flight. The airmen might not escape a second time with aslight flesh wound.
The fight resolved itself into a short artillery duel. The enemy'sfirst shell flew high, striking the cliff above the cantilever gangway,and bespattering the sheds and the compounds with fragments of rock.Ganda Singh proved a better marksman. He planted a shell on the enemy'sbreastwork between the two guns; splinters of rock flew all around, andfor a time there was no more firing. Presently, however, it wasresumed, apparently from one gun only, and Bob hoped that the other hadbeen put out of action. But in a few minutes both the weapons were atwork, and the gunners' practice improved. Two or three shells struck thegarrison's barricade, and though no breach was made, part of the parapetwas blown away, and splintered rock flew in all directions, dealingsevere wounds among the men behind. Ganda Singh worked his gun withimperturbable calm, and Gur Buksh from the compound sent a rain ofbullets from the machine gun along the track. Bob saw, however, that hewould soon be forced to withdraw the field gun for lack of ammunition.He had only captured twenty rounds with it, and after half these hadbeen expended, with much damage to the enemy's breastwork, he decidedthat he must reserve the rest for use in the compound, when the enemyshould attempt to force a passage round the bend.
Signalling therefore to Gur Buksh to keep up a hot fire, he ordered fourof the men to run the field gun back to the mine. The rest he withdrewa few yards from the breastwork, posting them close against the cliffout of the direct course of the enemy's shells, which were now workinghavoc on his rough defences. But finding it impossible there to observewhat the enemy were doing, he ordered two men to run back to thebreastwork, lie down until the guns had fired, and then spring up andobserve the enemy's movements through the gaps. They soon reported thatskirmishers were again cautiously advancing along the track.
Presentlythe bombardment redoubled in vigour, and immediately afterwards thescouts cried out that a large body of the enemy was charging. The gunsceased fire; at the short range the trajectory was so flat that thegunners could scarcely aim at the breastwork without hitting their ownmen.
"Now, boys!" cried Bob, unconsciously addressing them as if they wereTommies, "after me!"
He led them back to their former position. They spread out along thebreastwork and opened fire. Bob saw a mass of two or three hundredKalmucks streaming without any sort of order along the track, while theskirmishers who had occupied the rocks above were firing as fast as theycould load.
"Take your time!" he cried. "There's no need to hurry."
The first volleys were nevertheless somewhat ragged. The nerves of thePathans, unaccustomed to the shattering effect of high explosive shellsbursting within a few yards of them, were shaken; only Ganda Singh andthe three other Sikhs he had with him were calm as disciplined soldiersought to be. It was their rifles that took toll of the advancing enemy.Several of these dropped; the rest came on yelling fiercely. Bob orderedhis men to fire independently. The steadiness of the Sikhs had itseffect on the Pathans, who rested their rifles in holes and crevices ofthe breastwork and took deliberate aim.
The head of the charging column was now within two hundred yards. Inspite of increasing losses they still dashed on, and crowds of theircountrymen were swarming over the breastwork behind them. Nearer andnearer they drew, but their ranks were thinning fast. When they wereabout a hundred yards from Bob's entrenchment their leaders wavered. Atthis many of the men halted, in irresolution; only a few of the bolderspirits, worked up to a pitch of frenzy, pressed on until but fiftyyards separated them from their goal. These never returned.
With startling suddenness panic seized those who had faltered. Yellingwith rage and despair they turned about and scurried like rabbits to theshelter of their breastwork, pursued by a dropping fire. When thesurvivors had got more than halfway back, their further retreat wascovered by the field guns, and Bob again withdrew his men a little tothe rear, well content with his successful stand.
There was no further attack that day. The men were jubilant. When Bob,on being relieved by Lawrence, returned to the mine, he was met at theend of the bridge by Ditta Lal. The Babu's aspect was even more thanusually bland.
"I offer fulsome congratulations on sparkling victory, sir," he said."Perchance you heard the universal shout that burst stentorian fromdrouthy throats."
"Is that your own?" asked Bob, interrupting.
"My own, sir?" The Babu was puzzled. "I fear I do not fully apprehendmeaning of question."
"Why, it sounded like blank verse, and I wondered whether you yourselfhad been dropping into poetry."
"Delighted, sir," said the Babu with a smile and a bow. "I didn't twigmy frail thoughts had run into metric mould. It was unpremeditated art.I am up to snuff now, sir. 'That burst stentorian from drouthythroats'--'pon my dicky, sir, phrase has tone, ring, sonorous rotunditythat many professed poetasters would give boots for. However andnotwithstanding, long and short of it is I am self-appointed spokesmanfor all and sundry in offering abject felicitations on auspiciousevent."
"Thanks, I'm sure."
They were walking side by side to the house.
"Now, dear sir," the Babu resumed, "when I was at CalcuttaUniversity--of which, as you are aware, I have honour and glory to beB.A.--I was wont to shed my light of countenance on football matches,watched young barbarians toe flying sphere. After certain amount ofrough and tumble, at blast of whistle all performance ceased for briefinterval, during which muddy oafs ingurgitated juice of lemons and allthat."
"What are you driving at?" asked Bob in bewilderment.
"Why, sir, that interludium, denominated half-time, has parallel hereand now. We are at half-time in this fateful strife. Three days andhalf of allotted span have expired; and I make bold to suggestion that,for refreshment and buck-up of general company, you issue orders fortamasha."
"What's that?"
"Tamasha, sir, is jollification, kick-up, regular beano--song and dance,et cetera. With your permission, I will undertake herculean labour oforganization."
"My good man, you know our proverbs: 'Don't hallo till you're out of thewood'--'Don't count your chickens before they are hatched.' It's truethe men have done very well so far, but the stiffest fight often comesin the second half, you know. Possess your soul in patience, Babu. Ifwe come through safely I promise you shall have your tamasha, orwhatever you call it, and I tell you what: as you seem to be a bit of apoet, why not spend your time in writing a ballad or something of thesort in anticipation?"
"Happy thought, sir. I have not hitherto built rhyme, lofty orotherwise, but I will do my level best to rise to height of greatargument; I will set my eye in fine frenzy rolling, and body forth formsof things unknown at present, but justified by event. I will strike mylyre while it is hot. Good-night, sir, and sweet repose."
He waddled off, bent on a passionate quest for inspiration. Bob lookedafter him with a tolerant smile.
"Poor chap!" he thought. "Much learning has made him pretty mad. Iwonder if we Britishers, when we pick up a smattering of their lore,strike the Hindus in the same way? I only hope his paean _will_ bejustified by the event."
The Air Patrol: A Story of the North-west Frontier Page 26
