CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
IN THE MIST.
A more wretched night than that passed by the fugitives--two of them, atany rate--it would be hard to imagine. The wind blew piercingly cold atthat altitude; the juniper wood, which at its best is about the worstfuel in the world, would not burn, but made up for the deficiency in thefabrication of abundant smoke. There was no way of baking or doinganything with the frugal aliment which Mehrab Khan had so unexpectedlyproduced, and so generously withal, for he might easily have kept it forhimself. Wherefore it had to be consumed in the form of a raw pastemixed with rain water, and even this, both men, the European and theOriental--whose creed ignorant people imagine to teach that women haveno souls--refused to touch until Hilda insisted, and then they made apretence.
Towards dawn, but while it was yet dark, Mehrab Khan sallied forth toobtain provisions somehow or other, and, haply, intelligence, leavingthe most stringent injunctions that on no account short of actualdiscovery were they to move from their hiding-place. Shortly aftersunrise he returned with both. A kid was slung behind his saddle, and abag of grain in front, but he did not think it necessary to state thatthe owner, having been injudicious enough to refuse to give or selleither, and further, to manifest suspicion on the subject of himself, hehad incontinently slain the said owner, and borne away the spoil--a featwhich, to his wild Baluchi nature, represented an adequate comminglingof business with pleasure, but which he knew that these Feringhis wouldregard in another light. The latter noticed, however, that he no longerwore his khaki, but was attired in the loose garments and turban of theGularzai, and this he explained was for reasons of safety.
The intelligence which he had gleaned was partly satisfactory to them,and partly the reverse. Murad Afzul had surprised the camp, but thesahibs had not been injured, although carried away as prisoners. TheGularzai had raised the standard of the Prophet and joined in the_jihad_--the Nawab Mahomed Mushim Khan being one of its most earnest andenthusiastic supporters. Sarbaland Khan, too, had joined, and the Nawabhad appointed Murad Afzul one of his principal leaders. In brief, thewhole country was up in arms, and a large force had been sent tosurprise and overpower Mazaran.
"Well, that's cheering sort of _kubbur_ at any rate," said Raynier, ashe translated the burden of this communication to his companion. "Onething, it's possible we are better off here than we would be in Mazaran,for the garrison there is no great shakes, and Polwarth the biggest assthat was ever given command even of a box of tin soldiers."
Polwarth, it may be observed incidentally, was the commanding officer atMazaran, and he and the new Political Agent did not love each other.
There was one item of news which Mehrab Khan had not thought necessaryto disclose to his superior, and this was that the Nawab had issuedorders to secure Raynier Sahib alive and at all costs, but alive. Greatreward was promised to whoever should accomplish this, and bring himunharmed to Mushim Khan, but should any slay him the reward should bedeath. But he who should deliver him up alive, the reward would makehim a man of consequence for the rest of his days. And this was withinthe Baluchi's power to earn.
"How is it you still cleave to us, Mehrab Khan?" Raynier said halfbitterly, half affectionately. "All your fellow tribesmen and fellowbelievers are up against us. Why are you not with them?"
The man smiled. No well-simulated horror did he affect, for he feltnone. The question struck him as practically and nakedly natural. Nordid he break into vehement protestations of fidelity, and so forth. Hemerely replied,--
"It is written, _Huzoor_."
And the high Government official answered the Levy Sowar,--
"Be it so, my brother."
Shut off from the world for days they remained thus in their lofty eyrieamong the crags. A better shelter was found, and this not before it wasneeded, for the rainy weather continued and the cold at night was morethan uncomfortable. Then Mehrab Khan went forth upon the maraud onenight and stole a blanket or two and a _poshtin_--a sort of ulster madeof soft leather and fur-lined--as well as some more food. But fromtheir hiding-place he steadfastly refused to allow them to budge.
On Hilda Clive these conditions of hardship, which would have driven theaverage civilised and cultured woman nearly out of her senses, seemed tohave no effect at all--neither on her spirits nor on her health. As tothe latter they positively seemed to suit her. She had acquired acolour and a brightness of eye such as had never lit up her face underconditions of civilisation, and Raynier, looking at her, would wondertwenty times a day how he could ever have passed her every day of hislife for about three weeks, and taken no notice of her whatever. Somuch for looks. But as a companion, as a fellow castaway, she wasperfect, he decided. She was full of ideas. She could converse onevery subject under the sun, no matter what; the only topic she seemedto avoid, he was prompt to observe, being herself. More, he thought tonotice even that she purposely avoided it, yet in such wise as to conveyno idea of purposely concealing anything, but rather as not choosing tobe drawn. She would beguile the time, too, in trying to learnHindustani and Pushtu, under the joint tuition of himself and MehrabKhan, frequently to the amusement of both.
Thus, as the days wore on, something uncommonly like a very realcontentment settled down upon these two, here in the solitude of theirvast mountain world--nay, more. Their converse began to take on a sortof insidiously familiar, not to say caressing, form of confidence, alikeon the part of the one as on that of the other. Raynier began to forgetthat they were fugitives from a whole countryside, eager for theirblood. To forget the perils to be encountered ere they should once moremingle among their kind. To forget the havoc and massacre and miserythat had come about since last they had so mingled. And, more difficultstill to forget, perhaps, the official ruin which would most probablyawait himself. Strangely enough, the only thing he could not forget,the only thing that would force itself upon his memory, and that with ahorrid and most discordant jar, was the fact that Cynthia Daintree wason her way out to claim him--to claim him, upon whom she had absolutelyno claim at all; would, in fact, by this time soon be landing.
Without, the elements stormed and raged. For two whole days at a timethey would be unable to see outside their mountain abode, so thick andunyielding were the mists that encompassed it, and the rain poured downunceasingly, while now and again the roll of intermittent thunder wouldshake the mountain peaks in stunning reverberation the night through,and the red gleam seek out every corner of their cave abode. And whenthe mists parted, they gazed down upon shiny rock surfaces labyrinthedwith ragged black chasms, or the dark wildness of a juniper forest sweptby the wreaths of the flying scud.
But this state of comparative peace was not to last--was, in fact,destined to be brought to a most startling termination. One morningMehrab Khan, who had been away on a foraging expedition, failed toreturn. The day passed, and still no Mehrab Khan. Night likewisefailed to bring him, and now things began to look serious for these two,for their food supply was all but exhausted. As for the Baluchi, therewas only one conclusion to be arrived at--he had been found by theenemy, and either killed or detained as a prisoner. As for themselves,something must be done, for it was clear they could not remain there tostarve. With his own knowledge of the country, supplemented by furtherdetail which Mehrab Khan had given him, Raynier thought he could findthe way to Mazaran.
It was scarcely daylight when they started from their place of refuge.The weather had cleared overhead, but the ground was miry and slipperyto the last degree, so much so indeed that, until they should reachsmoother and more level ground, the horses were of more hindrance thanhelp. But at the start Raynier discovered that his steed had gone deadlame to such an extent that to ride it would be downright dangeroushere, where cliffs and slippery slopes abounded. It was decided toabandon the animal.
"Seems as if our troubles were beginning over again," he said ruefully."By Jove, it looks as if the story about the Syyed's _tangi_ was goingto prove true again in our case."
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He spoke half jestingly, glancing at her the while. To his surprise shewas looking very serious.
"No," she answered. "I don't think so. At least, unless--No--it's ofno use. I can't see."
She had passed her hand over her eyes, as he had seen her do on thatstrangely memorable night, and her face wore the same dreamy look.That, he knew, accounted for the seeming incoherence of her words. ForHilda Clive possessed in some degree the gift of clairvoyance, and whatshe saw now in front of them she preferred not to tell him just then.Whatever it was it took no definite shape in her own mind, hoveringthere vague but ominous. He looked at her curiously.
"Well, we'll cheat that superstition yet," he said, with a gaiety thatwas just a trifle forced.
They made but sorry headway, the horse slipping and stumbling to such anextent that Hilda preferred to walk, so that by the time day had fairlydawned they were scarcely more than three miles from theirstarting-point. It was deemed advisable to go into hiding once more,and here they were forced to finish what little food remained.
Towards dusk they started again. An unaccountable and wholly unwonteddepression had come upon Hilda, while her escort, walking beside herhorse, began to feel strangely weak and faint. He supposed it was theresult of recent bad living and want of exercise, and then, with a chillof dismay, he recognised the infallible symptoms of his old fever. No--this would never do. He must pull himself together; and by way of doingthis, he stumbled and fell dizzily forward.
With a little cry of alarm Hilda was off her horse in a moment and wasbeside him. She raised his head, laying a hand upon the damp and clammybrow.
"There, there! Do you feel better now?" she exclaimed, with a rush oftenderness in her tone.
"What an idiot I am," he answered, but the smile was a sickly one as hetried to raise himself. "I shall be all right in a minute. Heavens!the horse! Hilda--quick--go after the silly brute. It would never doto lose it."
In her anxiety to reach his side, Hilda had let the reins go, and nowthe animal was walking steadily off. She tried to coax it, but theresult only seemed to be to accelerate its pace. She was quite a littleway off now. Raynier had staggered to his feet, and had managed to takea few steps after her. Then he sank down in a dead faint.
The horse stopped. Now she would have it. Speaking soothingly, Hildadrew near. She had all but got her hand on the bridle rein, when theperverse brute slewed round. This manoeuvre he repeated three or fourtimes and then resumed his stroll. After him again she went.
No--it was too bad. She would try no further. She must have come quitefar already, but how far? She stopped and looked back. Great Heaven!what was this? The cloud which had encompassed the hilltop hadextended, stealing silently and insidiously downward, blotting out thewhole mountain side, blotting out the way she had come, blotting outeverything save three or four yards of slimy wet ground immediatelyaround her. How would she find her way back to where she had left hercompanion, and--what if she could not?
The Sirdar's Oath: A Tale of the North-West Frontier Page 18
