The Ruby Sword: A Romance of Baluchistan

by Bertram Mitford

  CHAPTER SEVEN.

  THE TANGI.

  "It's a thundering mistake allowing these fellows to wander all over thecountry armed, like that," said Upward, commenting on their latevisitors, while preparations were being made for a start. "They arenever safe while they carry about those beastly tulwars. A fellow maytake it into his head to cut you down at any moment. If he has nothingto do it with he can't; if he has he will. Government ought to put theArms Act into force."

  "Then there'd be a row," suggested Campian.

  "Let there be. Anything rather than this constant simmering. Not aweek passes but some poor devil gets stuck when he least expects it--inbroad daylight, too--on a railway station platform, or in the bazaar, oranywhere. For my part, I never like to have any of these fellowswalking close behind me."

  "No, I don't want either of you. I've had enough of you both forto-day. I'm going to ride with Mr Campian now. I want to talk to hima little."

  Thus Nesta Cheriton's clear voice, which of course carried far enough tobe heard by the favoured one, as she intended it should. The pair ofdiscomfited warriors twirled their moustaches with mortification, buttheir way of accepting the situation was characteristic, for whileFleming laughed good-humouredly, if a trifle ruefully, Bracebrydge'stone was nasty and sneering, as he replied:

  "Variety is charming, they say, Miss Cheriton. Good thing for some ofus we are not all alike--ah--ha--ha!"

  "I quite agree with you there," tranquilly remarked Campian, at whomthis profoundly original observation was levelled. Then he assistedNesta to mount.

  The path down from the _kotal_ was steep and narrow, and the party wasobliged to travel single file. Finally it widened out as they gainedthe more level valley bottom. Here were patches of cultivation, andscattered among the rocks and stones was a flock of black goats, herdedby a wild looking native clad in a weather-beaten sheepskin mantle, andarmed with a long _jezail_ with a sickle shaped stock. Two wolfish cursgrowled at the passers by, while their master uttered a sulky "salaam."A blue reek of smoke rose from in front of a misshapen black tent,consisting of little more than a hide stretched upon four poles, beneathwhose shelter squatted a couple of frowsy, copper-faced women. Two orthree more smoke wreaths rising at intervals from the mountain side, andthe distant bark of a dog, betokened the vicinity of other wanderingherdsmen.

  "I never seem to see anything of you now," said the girl suddenly,during a pause in the conversation, which up till then had been upon thesubject of the surrounding and its influences.

  "Really? That sounds odd, for I have been under the impression that weare looking at each other during the greater portion of every day, andnotably when we sit opposite each other at the not very wide, butpre-eminently festive board."

  "Don't be annoying. You know what I mean."

  "That we don't go out chikor shooting together any more. You mayremember I foretold just such a possibility on the last occasion of ourjoint indulgence in that pastime."

  "Well but--why don't we?"

  "For exactly the reason I then foretold. You seem better employed. Iamuse myself watching the fun instead."

  She looked at him quickly. Was he jealous? Nesta Cheriton was soaccustomed to be spoiled and adored and competed for and quarrelled overby the stronger sex, that she could hardly realise any member of thesame remaining indifferent to her charms. As a matter of fact, this onewas not indifferent. He appreciated them. Her blue-eyed, golden-hairedprettiness was pleasant to behold, in the close, daily intercourse ofcamp life. He liked to notice her pretty ways, and there was somethingrather alluring in her half affectionate and wholly confidential mannertowards himself. But--jealous? Oh no--no. He had lived too long, andhad too much experience of life for that phase of weakness. Nesta wasdisappointed. She read no symptoms of the same in his face, her eardetected no trace of bitterness or resentment in the tone.

  "But I want to go out with you sometimes," she said. "Why do you avoidme so of late?"

  "My dear child, you never made a greater mistake in your life than inthinking that. Here we are, you see, all crowded up together. We can'tall be talking at once--and--I thought you rather enjoyed the fun ofplaying those two Johnnies off against each other."

  "Ah, I'm sick of them. I wish they'd go back to Shalalai."

  "I don't altogether believe that. Which is the favoured one, by theway?"

  "No, really. I rather like Captain Fleming, though." She laughed,branching off with the light-hearted inconsequence of her type. "And--Idon't know what to do. He's awfully gone on me."

  "And are you `awfully gone' on him?"

  "Of course not. But I rather like him. I don't know what to do aboutit."

  "You don't know whether to buckle yourself for life to some one you`rather like'--or not. Is that the long and short of it?"

  "Yes."

  "If you are a little idiot, Nessie, you will do it--if you are not, youwon't. You are dreadfully lacking in ballast, my child, even to dreamof such a thing, are you not?"

  "I suppose so. I don't care a straw for anybody for more than a week orso. Then I am just as sick of them as I can be. That's how I am."

  "Except on that solitary occasion when you did take someone seriously.Tell me about that, Nessita."

  "No--no!"

  "But you promised to, one of these days. Why not now?"

  "What a tease you are. I won't tell it you now. No--nor ever.There!--Hark! Wasn't that thunder?" she broke off suddenly.

  "Yes. It's a long way off, though, travelling down yonder ridge. Won'tcome near us."

  Away along the summit of the further range a compact mass of cloud nowrested, and from this came a low distant peal. It represented one ofthe thunderstorms common at that time of year, restricted in locality,and of limited area. They gave it no further thought, and theconversation running on from one subject to another, now grave, now gay,carried them a long way over the road. The rest of the party were farahead. Bracebrydge was consoling himself by teasing Lily, and receivingfrom that young person, not unaided by Hazel, many a repartee fully upto the viciousness of his own thrusts. Fleming was riding with MrsUpward, while Upward and Bhallu Khan were constantly diverging from theroad, inspecting various botanical subjects with professional eye. ThusNesta and Campian, whether by accident or design of the former,gradually dropped behind. Again, a long low boom of thunder pealed outupon the stillness of the air.

  "That's much nearer?" exclaimed the girl, looking up. "I say! I wishit wouldn't! I don't like thunder."

  "Scared of it?"

  "Rather. What shall we do if it comes right over?"

  "There may be some shelter of sorts further on. Meanwhile, don't thinkabout it. Go on talking to me. What subject shall we find to wrangleabout?"

  She laughed, and very soon found a subject; and thus they continuedtheir way, until the path opened out from the narrow, stony,juniper-grown valley they had been descending, on to a wide, open plain,utterly destitute of foliage of any kind. The bulk of the party werenow visible again, further in advance, looking mere specks, nearly threemiles distant.

  "They will be in the _tangi_ directly," said Nesta, shading her eyes towatch the distant figures. "There, they are in it now," as the latterdisappeared in what looked like the mountain side itself, for no riftwas discernible from where these two now rode.

  "We had better get on, hadn't we?" urged Campian.

  "Oh no. I hate hurrying, and there's no earthly reason why we should."

  So they held on at the same foot's pace over the plain, which stretchedits weary desolation far on either side of them. Here and there a greathump of earth, streaked with white gypsum, relieved the dead levelmonotony, but not a living thing--man, beast or bird--was in sight. Noteven a sound was audible, except the deep-toned growl of the thunder,growing louder as they neared the mountain wall.

  "Good study for a subject illustrating the jaws of Death," remarkedCampian, as, now before them, the mountain seemed
to yawn apart in avertical fissure, which the stupendous height of the cliffs on eitherhand caused to appear as a mere slit.

  "Yes. And--it's beginning to rain."

  Large drops were pattering down as they entered the jaws of the greatchasm, but once within them there was shelter for a space, for thecliffs took an abrupt slant over at about a hundred feet above, so thatthe sky was no longer visible. A trickle of muddy water was alreadyrunning down the stony footway. This should have warned Campian, at anyrate; but then his experience of the country and this particular featurethereof, was not large. Nesta shivered.

  "I don't like this at all," she said. "It is horrible. What if the_tangi_ should come down?"

  The other glanced upward. The cliff walls were smooth and straight.Not a sign of ledge or projection to afford a foothold, no clingingshrub or tree anchored in a cleft.

  "Shall we go back?" he said. "There must be some way over."

  "No, no. I came through here once before, and I remember Mr Upwardsaying it would take a whole day to cross over the mountain. The_tangi_ is only about a mile long."

  "That means twenty minutes riding slow. Come along. We shall soon doit."

  But, even as his tone was, an ugly picture came before the speaker'smind--that of a rush of black water many feet high, syphoned betweenthose smooth walls. Anxiously but furtively his glance scanned them asthey rode along.

  As the narrowness of the passage wound and widened a little, the skyonce more became visible overhead. The sky? But it had clouded over,and the rain fell somewhat smartly now upon the two wayfarers. A bluegleam of lightning shot down into the depths, and the reverberating pealwhich followed was as though telephoned in menacing boom through thistube-like chasm. Hundreds and hundreds of feet they towered up now,those iron-bound walls. It was like penetrating deeper and deeper intothe black heart of the mountain.

  "See that place up there?" said Nesta, pointing to a kind of slantingledge quite twenty feet above and which might be reached by a strongclimber, though even then with difficulty. "Last time we came throughhere, Bhallu Khan told us that two men had been overtaken by a rush, andsucceeded in getting to that point; but even there the water had reachedone of them and swept him away. Horrible, isn't it?"

  "Very likely he invented the whole thing. He has an excellentimagination, has our friend Bhallu Khan."

  This he said to reassure her, not that he thought the incidentimprobable. Indeed, glancing up at the spot indicated, he saw thatevidence in the shape of sticks and straws was not wanting to show thatthe water had at some time reached that altitude, and the idea was notpleasant. In the vivid sunshine of a cloudless day it would have addedinterest to their way; now, with a gathering storm breaking over theirheads, and another half mile of what might at any moment become a ragingdeath-trap before them, it was dismal.

  Another turn of the chasm, and the way, which had hitherto been leveland pebbly, now led up over steep and slippery slabs. It becamenecessary to dismount, and here--Nesta's pony which she was leading, forit became necessary to adopt single file, slipped and fell badly on itsside. By the time the terrified beast was on its legs again, shiveringand snorting, and sufficiently soothed down to resume the way, someprecious minutes had been lost.

  "We might mount again now," said Campian, noting that the way wassmoother. "Come. Jump up."

  But instead of placing her foot in the hand held ready to receive it,the girl stood as though turned to stone. Every drop of blood hadforsaken her face, which was now white as that of a marble statue, herlips ashy and quivering.

  "Hark!" she breathed, rather than uttered. "It is coming! We arelost!"

  His own countenance changed, too. He had heard it as soon as herself--that dull raving roar, echoing with hollow metallic vibration along therock walls. His heart almost died within him before the awfulness ofthis peril.

  "Oh no, nothing like that," he replied. "We must race it. We shalldistance it yet, if we only keep our heads."

  The while he had put her into the saddle. Then taking the bridle, hebegan to lead her pony over the dangerous point of the way. The bruteslipped and stumbled, now sliding, now about to pitch headlong, but bothgot through.

  "Now for it, Nessie. Give him all the pace you can, but keep him inhand. We'll race it easily."

  Down the _tangi_ now, giving their steeds all the rein they dared, thesetwo rode for dear life. Then Nesta's pony stumbling over a loose stone,came right down, unhorsing his rider.

  "Don't leave me! Oh don't leave me!" she shrieked despairingly. "Ican't move, my skirt is caught."

  "Leave you. Is it likely? What do you take me for?" came his reply, asin a moment he was dismounted and beside her. "Keep your head. It willbe all right in a moment. There!" as a vigorous tug brought the skirtclear of the fallen animal, which lay as though stunned.

  But as she gained her feet, the dull hollow booming, which had beendeepening ever behind them, became suddenly a roar of such terrible andappalling volume, that Campian's steed, with a wild snort of alarmjerked the bridle rein from his hand, and bolted wildly down the pass.It all came before him as in a lightning flash. The utter hopelessnessof the situation. The flood had turned the corner of the reach theywere now in. He saw it shoot out from the projecting ridge, and hurlitself with thunderous shock against the opposite rock face. Hissingand bellowing it sprung high in the air, then, flung back, amid a vastcloud of spray, it roared down upon them. One glance and only one, lestthe terror of the sight should paralyse him, and he realised that inabout two or three minutes that flood would be hurling their lifelessbodies from side to side against those grim rock walls.