by Maud Diver
CHAPTER XXXIV.
"And echo circles in the air, Is this the end--is this the end?" --Tennyson.
September was drawing to a close. Every day the sun fought a losingbattle against the frost and bitter winds of the Pamirs, that pierceeven through sheep-skin coats to the marrow of the bones; and everynight the thermometer fell to zero, or below it. For winter beginsbetimes on the "Roof of the World."
On just such a night of keen stars, and still, penetrating cold, Lenoxsat alone in his circular tent of felt and lattice-work--the one formof habitation used by the nomads of the district--his coat-collarturned up, a rug round his legs, his fingers numb and blue, writing upthe official and private records of his week's work. In the middle ofthe floor a fire of roots flamed and crackled cheerfully enough, thesmoke, and most of the heat, escaping through a hole in the domed roofabove. A felt rug or two, a camp chair and table, and three sheep-skinbags, laid out for sleeping, gave an air of rough comfort to the place.But with the thermometer at zero, fuel scarce, and provisions runningvery low, actual comfort was past praying for. Lenox shifted his chairan inch or two nearer the blaze, drawing the camp table along with him,and disturbing Brutus, who acted as foot-warmer in return for theprivilege of sleeping under the rug.
"Sorry to shunt you, old chap," he apologised aloud. "But you're adeal better off down there than I am."
Sundry tappings on his left foot signified grateful acknowledgment ofthe fact, as Brutus settled himself afresh and dropped back into theland of dreams, whither Lenox would gladly have followed him. For theweek had been a hard one, and he was very tired. The frost seemed tohave gripped both body and brain, and too long a spell ofmountaineering at high altitudes was beginning to tell upon hisstrength; so that he had been thankful for the flat expanses of thePamirs, which had made riding possible and pleasant once again.
His entrance into the brigand state, and his polite, but unequivocalultimatum to its insubordinate chief had been carried through, notwithout moments of uncertainty and danger, yet with complete success,and throughout the past six weeks he had been enjoying his first bigtour of that strange region of raised valleys and vast, wind-sweptspaces where the boundary lines of three Empires meet.
Since the night when he had flung away the cherished pill-box that nowlay regally entombed under fifty feet of snow, he had suffered nocollapse. His gradual method of unwinding the chain had averted thatfinal danger and degradation. Bat there had been days when all histraining in self-discipline had been needed to restrain him fromapplying to Zyarulla, whose kummerbund held a perennial store of theprecious drug,--the more so since his Ladaki 'cook'--chosen mainly forhis powers of endurance--knew rather less about the primitiverequirements of camp catering than Lenox himself; and in spite of keenair and exercise his appetite had steadily fallen away. There wererare days, of course, when he could have eaten camel's flesh, and thatgratefully; but there were many more when the mere man yearned towardsthe luxury of plate and silver, of varied meats, and the sparkle of aniced peg. To-night his 'dinner' consisted of a large cup of cocoa,some native biscuits, and a lump of milk-cheese made by the Khirgiz,whose domed huts and scattered flocks are the only signs of human lifein this dry region of snow and sun and tireless wind.
On the table at his elbow, besides the steaming cocoa, were two campcandlesticks, some closely written sheets of a letter to Quita, and herlast that had reached him outside Hunza five weeks ago. Each one hehad received showed more clearly how the mysterious influence ofabsence was winning for him that volatile essence of her which hadeluded his grasp throughout six months of personal contact, and yearsof unwearied devotion. Of the deeper, hidden forces at work on hisbehalf, he guessed nothing. Only he was aware of subtle changes takingplace in her--of an indefinable softening and uplifting of the wholewoman, that increased tenfold his longing for a reunion which promisedto be closer, more consummate than the best that they had achieved asyet.
But to-night, because body and spirit were flagging unawares, the milesupon miles of inhospitable mountain country, that must be traversedbefore he could regain the outposts of civilised life, overpowered hisimagination. To-night, for the first time, despondency and the ache ofdesire magnified the very real dangers ahead--the lateness of theseason, the uncertainty of weather and supplies. Difficulties inrespect of transport had obliged him to cut down his commissariat,despatching the remainder, with his heavy baggage, to await him on theIndian side of the Darkot Pass--the last great obstacle that cut himoff from India, and from the dear woman, never dearer than at thismoment. It was a risk, of course, and a big one. But mountaineeringimplies risks; and the man who is not prepared to face them and sleepsoundly on them, had better stick to his armchair and an office.
The original risk had been increased by the fact that his programme ofexploration had taken longer than he calculated, and now ominoussnow-clouds, a rapidly dwindling food supply, and his own importunateheart, urged an immediate start for the terrible Wakhan Valley and theDarkot Pass. It meant a race for life--that he saw plainly enough.The chances were ten to one against the Pass being open after the 1stof October--the earliest date by which he could hope to get across.
With a sigh, he closed his diaries, emptied the cup of cocoa at a gulp,and took out of his breast-pocket a folded leather frame. It containeda photo of Quita in evening dress--a photo so disturbingly alive thatin general he contented himself with the knowledge that it was there.But now he sat looking at it long and intently, till the eyes seemed tosoften and speech hovered on the too-expressive lips. Almost the musicof her voice was in his ears, when the night's colossal stillness wasbroken by voices of a very different quality--the deep tones of the twoPathans and the interpreter, who, on this lightly-equipped expedition,were sharing his tent; while the six little Gurkhas, packed likesardines into a smaller one, seemed to find the experience as amusingas they found the whole varied field of life. It takes more than merehardship to knock the spirits out of a Gurkha.
As the three men entered, Lenox slipped the frame back into his pocket;and, with a few friendly words, gave them leave to retire into theirsleeping bags, while Zyarulla laid out his master's 'bed' on thefarther side of the fire. That done, he came forward, and, squattingon his heels, held out fingers like knotted twigs to the blaze. Lenox,under a pretence of reading, sat watching him spellbound, knowingprecisely what would happen next. Nor was he mistaken. Presently thethawed fingers fumbled at his kummerbund, produced a discoloured twistof paper, opened it, and taking out two familiar dark pellets, tossedthem down his throat. In the act he met his master's gaze fixed on himwith strange intensity, and at once two more pellets appeared upon hispalm.
"Will not the Sahib honour his servant by partaking also?" he asked,proffering his treasure. "The cold increaseth every hour, and theHeaven-born hath had too little food to-day."
It was a moment before Lenox could find his voice; not becausetemptation mastered him, but because he could scarcely believe theevidence of his brain. The sight of the forbidden thing within easyreach no longer tormented him as it would have done two months ago.The habit of resistance was beginning to take effect at last; and,almost before Zyarulla had time to wonder at his silence, Lenox hadwaved aside his open palm.
"No, no," he said quietly. "I have eaten enough, and thou wilt needall and more before we set foot in a bazaar again. Opium is not forSahibs. For the Pathan people, who are made of wood and iron, it maybe very well; but for the white man it is poison."
The Asiatic shook his head, and a light gleamed under his grizzledbrows.
"Great is the wisdom of the Sahib; yet in this matter have I also someknowledge. The Dream Compeller is no poison, Hazur, but Allah'sbountiful gift to man, bringing strength out of weakness, peace out ofturmoil, even as the rain draweth grass from parched earth.Nevertheless, it is as your Honour wills."
And Lenox, still watching the man's movements with a strange minglingof indifference and triumph, saw the miracle-worker--of whos
e powers heknew far more than the Pathan--disappear unhindered into the folds ofthe man's kummerbund; saw himself once more a free man,--captain of thesoul and body given into his charge.
"Now it is time to sleep," he said, pushing back his chair, and risingso abruptly that Brutus stumbled on to his feet, and emerged from thefolds of the rug with an injured air. "All things are in readiness forsetting out?"
"Hazur, all things are in readiness."
"It is well. Scatter ashes on the fire, and call me at dawn."
And as he slipped into the sheep-skin bag, his whole heart echoed thewords, "It is well." Let him only win his way back to the wife whosespirit called to him across the silence and the miles, and all would bewell indeed!
Ten minutes later, the candles were put out; the glow of the firequenched; while outside the temperature fell steadily, and a sky heavywith threatening cloud brooded over the sleeping camp.
Lenox woke before dawn to find a creditable snow-peak piled above hisdead fire, while flakes as large as plucked feathers whirled andfluttered down upon it through the generous hole in the roof. Thethree natives had vanished, sleeping bags and all; and the Ladaki cook,with the astounding patience of his kind, had coaxed into life a firelarge enough to make his master a cup of tea from the few remainingspoonfuls of the magic leaf, more priceless to the mountaineer thanbrandy.
It was a bad beginning. Even the Gurkhas looked grave, and shook theirheads. The sky, low and heavy with tumbled cloud, was a study in greysand indigoes; the earth a still, uncharted waste. No whisper of windor trees; no sound of life; no break of colour anywhere, from the levelplain to the galaxy of peaks and rounded shoulders tossed aloft like afrozen tempest. Only at intervals, far up the mountain-sides, blackspecks--that were grazing yaks--suggested a Khirgiz encampmentcunningly hidden in the folds of the hills. Presumably the sun was up,though the east showed as lifeless and unpromising as any other quarterof the heavens.
A detailed investigation of the commissariat department--revealing aserious shortage of tea, cocoa, and rice, to say nothing of minoressentials--proved no less discouraging than the aspect of earth andsky. Only by the most stringent economy could the little store bepersuaded to last out four days, by which time they hoped to be overthe pass. Lenox, as usual, blamed himself.
"Extra work on siege rations is about our programme!" he remarked withgrim humour to his devoted ally the little Havildar. "We must managethe first three marches in two days if possible. But I'm sorry to havelet you all in for a risk of this kind."
"All right, Sahib," the Gurkha answered with a brisk salute. "We beFrontier soldiers. It is not the first time. And 'when sparrows havepicked up the grain where is the use of regret?' If there be enoughfor your Honour all is well. The black man can tighten his belt, andforget that the stomach is empty!" He tightened his own on the spot;and went off to bid his brothers do likewise on pain of dire penalties.
Stepping down, undismayed, from the voiceless, trackless Roof of theWorld, they were met by a desolating wind; the feathered snow-flakeschanged to a storm of sleet,--stinging, saturating; and only theknowledge that twenty-four hours delay might mean a blocked pass andanother six months of isolation from his kind, induced Lenox to urgehis men forward in the teeth of it.
As it was, they pushed doggedly on over snow-sodden tracks, that werespeedily converted into drainage rivulets; trailing single file alongthe 'devil's pathways' that overhang the Wakhan river,--mere ledges cutout of the cliff's face, where a false step means dropping a hundredfeet and more into the valley beneath; scrambling up giant staircasesof rock, and glacier _debris_; zigzagging down one or two thousandfeet, by the merest suggestion of a route, only to start a freshclimb--drenched and weary--after floundering through a local torrent,rushing full 'spate' from the hills. Such crossings, without bridge orboat, through streams ice-cold as the glaciers that gave them birth,formed the most exciting episodes of the day's march. They had atleast the merit of creating a diversion, if a damp and dangerous one.For the Kashmir baggage ponies, battling helplessly against a currentstrong enough to sweep them off their feet, could only be guided andcontrolled by showers of stones, and a chorus of picturesque terms ofabuse from their distracted drivers. The Gurkhas, whose irrepressiblespirits kept the rest from flagging, enjoyed these interludes to thetop of their bent; plunging waist-deep into the icy water, shakingthemselves like terriers as they scrambled out on the far side, andshouting incessantly to each other, or to the terrified animals, tillthe cliffs echoed with ghostly voices and laughter.
Along tracks possible and impossible Lenox rode his tireless scrap of ahill pony, who climbed like a goat, and whose unshod feet picked theirway unerringly even over rocks covered with new snow that gave nofoothold to man or beast. The rest walked; while the baggage poniesslid and stumbled, and scrambled in their wake with the stupefiedmeekness of their kind.
Journeying thus,--now drenched with snow and sleet, now heartened byrare bursts of sunshine,--through the worst bit of hill country betweenPersia and China, they camped at last in the grim Wakhan valley,rightly named 'the Valley of Humiliation.' To Lenox, the name struckhome with a peculiar force. For his time-saving scheme had failed.The three marches had not been accomplished in two days. Evil weather,incessant delays, and the impossibility of hurrying baggage animalsover dangerous ground, had prevailed against him. The valley hadconquered: and for the man remained nothing but stoical acceptance ofdefeat, and the 'half of a broken hope' that even in heaven and earth'sdespite, he might yet win through in time.
On a night of intermittent moonbeams and racing cloud, the scene fromthe little camp across the river had a sombre majesty--a suggestion ofimpersonal, relentless power that crushes rather than uplifts; thatdwarfs man, with his puny struggles and aspirations, to a pin-point ofsand on an illimitable shore. Colossal ice-bound spurs walled them in;their sides astonishingly steep, their embattled heads shattered by sunand frost into fantastic peaks, from which masses of rock and stonesare hurled down into the valley, when rain and melting snow begin theiryearly task of modelling the face of the earth. And between thesethreatening heights the Wakhan river hurried, a pale streak of light,now grey, now silver, as the clouds, like great birds of ill-omen,chased one another across the moon.
The sinister aspect of the place had its effect on Lenox,hypersensitised as he was by anxiety over lost hours, and by thepremonitory chill of fever, strengthening that prescience of disasterwhich saps spirit and courage more surely than disaster itself. Butthey were on the march again betimes, next morning, breasting thenorthern slopes of the Hindu Kush, which at this point can be crossedwithout much difficulty. Before noon they were over the crest; andLenox, weary at last of his nightmare struggle with the mountains,dropped thankfully into the Yarkhun valley, beyond which towered hislast great obstacle--the Darkot Pass.
It was late afternoon, and, come what might, he intended to requisitiona guide (no easy matter) and push his way across at daylight. Butneither earth nor heaven had a word of encouragement for the man whoscanned them with tired, desperate eyes. At his feet the Yarkhun riverwhirled and foamed, a grey glacier torrent, thick with the milky scumof ice-ground salt; beyond it the ink-black gorge leading to the summitwas shrouded in a scroll of threatening cloud; and the first nativeswhom they questioned as to the state of the pass replied unconcernedlythat it had been closed four days; adding that no man who valued hislife would attempt to cross it in uncertain weather.
To force his little contingent forward in the face of such news seemednothing less than murder and suicide of an elevated type. But Lenox,gritting his teeth on a curse, despatched Zyarulla in search of moreprecise information, and ordered his tent to be set up without delay.For even at times of despondency and ill-health, the man possessed hisfull share of that 'outward-going force' which is the hall-mark of theScottish race; and the instant books and maps were available, he satdown, filled a pipe from his dwindling store of tobacco, and proceededto look out possible alternatives s
hould the worst befall.
There were two: desperate resources both, yet one degree better thanimprisonment in the Yarkhun valley till it pleased the snows to melt.They could follow the course of the river to Chitral,--no Frontieroutpost then, but an independent Native State; or work their way, byfaith and courage, through the wild Swat country to the Punjab. Thestate of both routes was unknown; the question of supplies a hopelessone; and amid a chaos of uncertainties, bad weather was the one thingthat might safely be counted on in October. To crown all, their lineof communication must, in either case, be broken. They would be lostto the outside world for many days, if not weeks; and apart fromconsideration for his wife, Lenox was the last man to enjoy creating atemporary excitement at headquarters.
None the less, after thinking himself into a blinding headache, hedecided to face the Chitral route, if snow fell, and if Zyarullabrought no better news about the pass. Then, because his last cup oftea was being held in reserve for breakfast, he contented himself withgoat's milk, a slab of chocolate, and native biscuits that served himfor bread.
It was late before Zyarulla returned, with a companion,--a native fromYasin, on the Indian side of the Pass.
"This man, Sahib, hath even now crossed over from Darkot village," thePathan explained, indicating the wizened leader of a forlorn hope withthe air of a showman exhibiting a curiosity. "He came to fetch theremains of his sister, who died in this valley, that she may be buriedamong her own people. I have therefore engaged him as guide, to takethe Sahib over on his return."
"The thing can be done?" Lenox asked, with an eagerness not to berepressed; and the small man bowed his head upon his hands.
"Allah alone can answer the question of the Heaven-born. For one manto travel safely among glaciers and crevasses without number, it was noeasy matter--and as for a company of men and ponies, how can this slavetell? Nevertheless, if the Sahib wills, and there is no snow beforemorning, I go before, showing the way; and that which will fall--willfall."
"Good. That is a bargain. Fulfil it, and thy reward shall be worththe winning. Let yaks be ordered from the nearest _aul_; and atdaylight we set out."
The man from Yasin salaamed and departed; but at the tent door Zyarullapaused, a glitter of triumph in his eyes.
"Captain Sahib,--was it well done?"
"Excellently done," Lenox answered, smiling. "Thou art worth thyweight in tobacco of the first quality!"
And the Pathan, knowing that to his master the value of tobacco wasabove all the rupees ever minted, went out to patronise lesser mortals,and impress them with the fact that he was not as other men, since hehad rendered signal service to "the first-best Sahib in all India,whose eyes pierce the earth, and whose feet tread upon the necks ofmountains even as those of common Sahibs scatter the dust of cities!"
That night, ominous pains in his limbs and a sensation as of cold waterdown his spine drove Lenox to open his second and last bottle ofbrandy. Stimulated by the kindly spirit, he wrestled with a fowltougher than india-rubber, and slept as a doomed man might sleep on thenight of his reprieve.
But he woke to hear the tread of his sentry muffled by new-fallen snow;and hope died in him at the sound. Outside, the world was white withit; the whole air thick with it; yet his men were striking camp andloading up, confident in the white man's reputation for achieving theimpossible. Only the little guide demurred, trembling at his ownaudacity.
"Hazur, look whether the thing can be done. I said--if no snow fell."
"And _I_ say, if it fall or no, we cross to-day," Lenox answered, withmore of assurance than he felt. "Bid the yaks go forward to prepare away for our coming."
The great shaggy beasts went forward accordingly, head downward,ploughing a way through the snow, to make marching easier and disclosehidden pitfalls or crevasses; and by the time Lenox had despatched atravesty of a breakfast, a pallid light in the east hinted that thestorm might be local after all. Wet and draggled as they were, theorder was given to load up and start; and even as they crossed thetorrent to the foot of the glacier, earth and sky leaped suddenly intolight; broken streaks of radiance danced and sparkled on the river, andthe sun swept the shadows from hill and valley, converting theirdeathlike shroud into a glittering garment, stainless as the soul of achild.
"Inshallah!! Now all is well!"
It was the deep voice of Yusuf Ali; and Lenox heard his cheery littlefriend, the Havildar, make answer, "True talk, brother; the gods favourthose who go forward!"
Cheered by the prospect of getting dry, and by the sun's mysteriouspower to exhilarate all things living, the whole party quickened theirpace. But in less than an hour fresh clouds had rolled up, blottingout the sun; and on the glacier they overtook the yaks and theirdrivers, lumbering soberly through the snow-drifts with true Orientaldisregard for time.
The men chorussed voluble excuses; but since time meant life or death,Lenox waved them aside impatiently, and ordered the guide to go on,making his own tracks as best he might. The which he did, with thehelp of two others, pressed into service by promises of liberalbacksheesh, stepping out valiantly at the head of the mixed procession;his sister's remains--tied up in a wisp of turban--bobbing over hisshoulder; driving on before him a donkey followed by a goat. And theunerring instinct by which this despised creature of God avoided hiddenfissures and crevasses must needs be seen to be believed.
The guides, keeping in the tracks of the animals, marked off dangerousplaces with their sticks; and behind them rode Lenox, muffled to theeyes in poshteen and Balaklava cap, his league of leg barely two feetoff the ground; his keen little pony--long since christened 'TheRat'--almost as trustworthy on dangerous ground as the donkey himself.And wherever he led, all self-respecting Kashmiri ponies wouldfollow,--even into a crevasse!
Through four mortal hours they plodded on, a strange procession ofmuffled figures, leaving in their wake a dark, contorted track, asthough some wounded thing had writhed its way upward through the frozensnow.
And by one o'clock the crest was in sight! "The gods favour those whogo forward!" Chundra Sen had spoken truth. Another half hour wouldsee them through the worst; and Lenox--scarcely able to believe in hisgood fortune--urged The Rat to renewed exertion, and shouted to his mento hurry on.
But the gods are nothing if not capricious; and the 'advanced guard,'reaching the summit, found no promised land spread out below them, buta mass of blue-black cloud, heavy with snow, surging up the valley,with the rush of a tidal wave and the breath of an iceberg, blottingout creation as it came; till it shrouded the little band ofmen--'unconquering, yet unconquered'--in a sinister twilight, cold asDeath's own self.
There was nothing to be said or done. They simply stood still, andwaited for the end:--the Asiatics with the phlegm of fatalism; Lenoxwith the stillness of despair.
"Checkmate," he muttered grimly. "Two hours of this will about finishus off."
In two seconds his moustache was frozen to his face; his limbs numbed,so that movement became imperative. Mechanically he dismounted,stamped his feet, and beat his arms across his chest as the others weredoing; a proceeding about as effective as thimblefuls of water flung ona fire. For every moment the iron clutch of frost tightened andpenetrated; even, it seemed, to the life-blood in his veins. Butthrough its deadening influence the thought of Quita struck like aknife-thrust. "God help her!" his heart cried out in bitter rebellionagainst his own helplessness to shield her from pain. "It will hit herhard. But she has grit;--and her art. She will live it down."
For five awful minutes the darkness held; and the men waited;--free yethelpless, like castaways on an open sea. Yet no snow fell.
Suddenly Lenox was aware of Brutus rubbing against his leg, plainlydemanding what was wrong. He stooped and caressed the ugly head of hiseight years' companion and friend. "Rough luck on you, old chap. Younever asked to come."
For answer Brutus licked his woollen glove. And as he straightenedhimself, Chundra Sen came up and saluted.
"C
aptain Sahib, it is strange. No snow falls; and the darknessmoves--moves. May be it is not the storm itself; but a cloud that willpass."
"I doubt it, Havildar," Lenox answered, smiling at the characteristicsuggestion. Yet his eyes, half-blinded with snow-glare, peeredanxiously southward, and detected a change; a faint hint oftransparency, as though light were struggling through.
The Gurkha detected it also.
"Hazur, behold!--The cloud _will_ pass." His teeth flashed outexultant. "A good tale is not to be bought with cowries; and we shalltell this one in India before many weeks be out."
Chundra Sen was right. With astonishing swiftness the twilight paledfrom grey to white; a streak of spectral sunlight quivered through,like life creeping back into the face of death; and the cloud rolledharmlessly over into the Yarkhun valley behind them.
It was but a herald of the great battalion that billowed up an hourlater, enveloping glacier, peak, and crag, and sealing up the pass forseven months to come.
But by then, they were clattering recklessly down the slope,helter-skelter, like a pack of children let out of school; slitheringover fissured glacier and moraine, sending loose boulders flying fromrock to rock; the Gurkhas shouting and laughing, the Kashmiri cooliesbreaking into weird snatches of song. Even The Rat lost his soberlittle head, and in scuttling over a glacier slope sat suddenly downupon his tail, dog fashion, landing Lenox on his feet, and sliding awayfrom under him, to the vociferous delight of every one but himself.Only the two Pathans and the Scot accepted reprieve as imperturbably asthey had accepted sentence of death; suggesting by their silence, inthe midst of excitement, the large reserves of strength common to thenatures of both.
Before five they had sighted the willows and poplars of Darkot; and bysunset they were encamped outside the village, walled in with a ruggedamphitheatre of granite and limestone cliffs. Here they found the manin charge of the welcome caravan of supplies and heavy baggage, takinghis ease, a little puzzled, yet in no wise troubled at the Sahib'sdelay.
Lenox, broken with fatigue, relief, and incipient illness, realised, ashe sank into his camp chair, that throughout the past week he had kepthimself going by pure force of will. And his record was a fair one,even as Frontier records go:--incessant marching in wet clothes, on aminimum of food, culminating in ten hours of severe exposure and theacutest anxiety he had ever known. And over and above all suchincidentals of the day's work,--achievement, in full measure, of thatwhich he had set out to do; not merely in respect of his mission, butin respect of that hidden struggle and victory, 'that weighed not ashis work, yet swelled the man's amount.' For he knew now that by theGod-given power of sheer, unwearied resistance he had vanquished anevil the most insidious and alluring that can assail a man; knew thathe had put the accursed thing under his feet; and he meant to keep itthere.
But the struggle, combined with hardship and privation, had left itsmark on him. The protests of Nature had been disregarded; and now shetook her revenge in the sledge-hammer fashion that is hers.
By next morning the man's skin was like hot parchment, his limbs rigidwith pain, his brain verging on delirium; and before evening it wasclear that rheumatic fever had him in its relentless grip.
The Gurkhas and Zyarulla were in despair. Chundra Sen, goaded byresponsibility for the safety of his officer, set out, straightway, bydouble marches for Srinagar, determined to cover the distance in tendays; while the Pathan, commanding a _charpoy_[1] from the headman ofthe village, remained to exorcise the 'fever devil' with the rude skilland limitless patience of his kind.
But he reaped small reward for his pains. Racked with rheumatism andburnt up with fever, Lenox had almost reached the end of his tether;and through the awful hours of delirium, Zyarulla could only crouch,helpless, by the bedside; listening, listening to the hoarse, hurriedmutterings, of which he could understand nothing beyond the frequentrecurrence of the Mem-sahib's name.
Each day life flickered more uncertainly in the great gaunt frame; andon the morning when Chundra Sen, with a dapper little doctor, set hisface towards Darkot, Zyarulla, kneeling beside his unheeding master,bowed his head upon his hands.
"It is the will of God," he muttered. But the formula carried noconviction to his heart, that whispered rather: "It is the work ofSheitan, the accursed."
[1] String-bed.
