"I'll go," decided Cub, realisisg that as he was the lighter on his feet there would be less chance of losing the way. Although he did not say so he hoped that Gimlet, or some of Macgreggo's scouts, would hear the shooting, and coming to see what it was about, give them a hand.
The next ten minutes were grim, even for Cub, who was not without experience of being under fire. Progress consisted of making short rushes from rock to rock, from shelf to shelf, from cover to cover, and then, from the new position, spying out the next move.
Fortunately there were places where they were safe, because the bulge in the rocks above prevented them from being seen by those on the fort; but against that there were moments when they were exposed to a brisk fire, yet had to move slowly for fear of a fall that would be as fatal as a bullet. To be under fire at any time is an unpleasant sensation, but in such circumstances as these it was nerve shattering, and the fugitives went on with faces pale and set, sometimes slipping, sometimes sliding down a scree, grabbing for handholds regardless of torn finger nails. The worst moment was when a near bullet splashed a chip of stone into the Pasha's face; in moving quickly he dislodged a fair sized rock which overtook Cub, who was below, and catching him in the back, nearly sent him over a thirty foot drop, for he was making his way along a narrow shelf at the time. A warning shout from the Pasha saved him, for looking up he saw the rock coming, and was able to brace himself for the shock before it struck him.
In a last desperate rush they reached the bottom together and flung themselves into the boggy jungle that fringed the brook. Bullets still came spattering through the bushes, but the shooting was now guesswork, and Cub ignored it as he snatched a drink and splashed cold water on his face. He looked at his companion and smiled. "Now for the last lap," he said cheerfully.
On the far side of the gorge there was more cover. The slope was not so steep, with the result that it supported a fair growth of scrub and an occasional group of dwarf conifers.
Trees, too, had fallen from above, and lodged against these, making a tangle of branches through which it was possible to force a passage and at the same time remain hidden from sight. Had it not been for this Cub would have given little for their chance of reaching the top, for the angle between them and the troops on the fort was much broader, and the possibilities of more accurate markmanship improved accordingly.
There were now quite a number of men on the wall of the fort.
The Pasha must have been well aware of the danger but he made light of it. "Let us go on and get it over," he said coolly.
The race for the top began, for that is really what it amounted to. The same tactics as before were employed—that is to say, short rushes from cover to cover. In actual practice it turned out to be not so bad as Cub expected, for they were able to move forward under cover of the trees for long periods. The open spaces between the trees were narrow, too, and as the enemy had no means of judging where the fugitives would break out, these were sometimes crossed before a shot could be fired. Again, there was no longer any serious risk of falling, as there had been on the cliff.
In a quarter of an hour the worst was over, and Cub, blinded by sweat and gasping for breath, ran into the forest that began at the lip of the gorge. The Pasha, being well past his prime, was just about able to totter, and as soon as he was in the trees he collapsed in a manner that caused Cub to fear that a heart attack had been brought on by the strain.
However, after a minute or two he was able to sit up, although he still looked very groggy. He went up in Cub's estimation when, as soon as he could speak, he apologised for being a hindrance, and suggested that Cub should leave him and save himself.
Cub smiled lugubriously. "I haven't come all this way to fetch you and then let you go,"
he dissented firmly. "There's no hurry. Take time and get your breath. We are doing fine.
"
The Pasha supported his own argument by pointing to the causeway, which was now in view. Horsemen were galloping across it in a way that left no doubt as to their purpose.
"Oh, we'll deal with them in due course," said Cub, with a jauntiness he certainly did not feel.
The Pasha looked dubious, as well he might. But he said no more.
While they rested Cub wondered again what Karzoff was thinking about all this commotion, which seemed certain to affect his plans. Not that Cub was in the least concerned with Karzoff's predicament, except where it affected his own.
He knew roughly where they were, for he recognised the spot as being no great distance from the place where Trapper had first spied the fort; but he saw with some anxiety that unless they could reach the track, and cross it into the thicket beyond before the troops got there, they would be cut off. Once in the thicket above the scaffolds they would be reasonably safe. It was unlikely that the troops would follow, fearing that some of Macgreggo's men might be posted there.
Moreover, there seemed a good chance that Gimlet and the others might be, if not actually there, somewhere not far away. That they would not retire to any great distance while they supposed he was in the fort, he was confident.
This belief he conveyed to the Pasha, who at once scrambled to his feet, somewhat shakily, and declared that he was good for another ten miles if necessary.
"If you can manage five hundred yards we should be okay," Cub told him, as he set off at a brisk pace, realising that it was going to be a close thing. Once across the road they would be able to rest indefinitely.
They beat the troops to it by about a hundred yards. In this they may have been lucky, for it is unlikely that they would have done so had not the Cossacks halted near the gallows to speak to a sentry stationed there. For a moment it looked as if Cub and his companion would get across the road unseen; but at the last moment one of the mounted men, happening to look up, let out a yell of warning. Whereupon the whole troop clapped home their spurs and came on at full gallop.
Having crossed the road Cub paused long enough to fire a couple of quick shots, first to let the enemy know that he was armed, and secondly, to give the Pasha time to get well inside the thicket. This done, he dived into the undergrowth and joined him, where he was clawing his way uphill through the tangle. He fully expected to be challenged by one of Macgreggo's men, but to his disappointment this did not happen. The thicket was deserted, he concluded, otherwise the noise would by now have brought some response from any bandits stationed there.
If there was a pursuit Cub heard nothing of it, so reaching what he considered to be a safe spot about a third of the way up the slope, a spot which commanded a good view of the road, he halted with a sigh of thankfulness and sank down to rest. It was high time, too, he saw, for the Pasha was at the end of his strength. Still, Cub thought he had done very well. Seldom had an old man put up such a good show, even though the prize was freedom.
"I think we'll stay here for a while," he decided. "We're fairly safe now. My friends may come along. If not, after we've had a rest, we'll walk on and try to find them. One thing we can rely on, they won't be far away."
In this, as events were soon to show, he was right. But his final observation was very wide of the mark. Making himself comfortable he sighed wearily. "Thank goodness there's nothing more we can do. I've had about enough."
CHAPTER XI
NO REST FOR THE WEARY
THE day was still young, but broad daylight had come with a leaden sky and a promise of more rain. The air was muggy with a sticky heat that brought out the mosquitoes and midges in swarms to make anything like real rest impossible. Troops were everywhere, mostly in small formations, although what they were doing was not easy to discern. They behaved like men without any centralised command. An occasional shot or shout suggested that either they were actively engaged in some operation or else their nerves were jumpy.
Now that he had leisure to think, Cub was content with his decision that they should remain where they were for the time being. When the general activity had died down they could think about moving. Meanwhile there was
always a chance of Gimlet arriving on the scene. Cub was hungry and thirsty, but what he needed most of all was sleep. His eyes were hot and heavy from lack of it.
Presently he asked the Pasha if he would care to snatch a nap while he kept watch. The Pasha declined the offer saying that he was not in the least tired; but no doubt observing Cub's condition he insisted that he should rest. He himself would keep watch. Cub had no intention of sleeping, but he lay back with his head on his hands; and, as there is a limit to human endurance, in five minutes he was fast asleep.
He awoke with a start to find the Pasha nudging him. He sat up with a jerk, alert for danger. Seeing none, he asked how long he had been asleep.
"About an hour," was the answer. "I woke you up because I thought you ought to see that," said the Pasha, pointing.
Following the direction Cub needed no further explanation. Crossing the causeway towards the mainland, travelling slowly, were three armoured cars.
What was happening was at once fairly clear.. Either the cars were already there when he was speaking with Karzoff, or they had arrived early in the morning. They were now leaving with their prisoner—or rather, since the genuine prisoner was no longer in the fort, they were taking the fake one. So Karzoff was going through with his scheme, thought Cub. Not that he had an alternative. Failure to produce his important prisoner could not fail to lead to embarrassing questions by the officer in charge of the cars. In his mind's eye Cub could visualise the infamous governor of the fort going through with his bluff. Doubtless the man in charge of the cars would know from the shooting that something was going on, but he would not be concerned with Karzoff's local worries.
All he would be concerned with was his prisoner, and as soon as he had collected him he would start off for wherever he was taking him. By the time it was discovered that the prisoner was not the Pasha, Karzoff would be many miles away. This suited Cub well enough. Indeed, now that the alarm caused by the sentry had subsided, everything seemed to be going according to plan. All that remained now, he thought with satisfaction, was to make contact with Gimlet, which should not be difficult, and then see about getting home. Taking it all round everything had been for the best; had, in fact, gone off better than he could have hoped. It looked as if the mission was as good as buttoned up. The worst was over, anyway.
How far he was at fault in this pleasant preoccupation was soon to be demonstrated.
The cars carried on over the causeway. They reached the bridge where the promontory ran into the mainland, crossed it, came up the slope, turned to the right and proceeded on their way. Cub watched them until they were out of sight. Then, and only then, did an awful thought occur to him.
There was one factor he had left out of his calculations, one possibility—nay, probability—he had overlooked. Now he saw it plainly, so plainly that a chilly hand seemed to fall on his heart. Gimlet! Gimlet would naturally suppose that the real Pasha was in one of the cars, and was now being taken away beyond all hope of rescue. Gimlet knew the cars were coming, and for what purpose. He would be on the watch to see them arrive—and leave. Cub knew Gimlet. He did not know exactly what he would do, but he knew beyond all shadow of doubt that he would do something, something to prevent the Pasha from slipping through his fingers, which would mean the failure of his mission.
Cub strove to force his racing brain to steady its pace in order to think clearly. He saw that he had one hope, and that was that Gimlet would be unaware of the departure of the cars. He did not set much store by it. He knew Gimlet too well. Knowing that the cars were due he would never take his eyes off the road. He might even suppose that he, Cub, having been captured, was in one of the cars, being taken away at the same time.
Which meant that however hopeless an attack on the cars might appear, he would attempt it.
Thinking it over it seemed to Cub that there was nothing he could do about it now.
Bitterly he blamed himself for resting, wasting time when he might have carried on and made contact with Gimlet. It was obviously no use running after the cars in the hope of overtaking them. In fact, it was no use trying to run anywhere except on the road, and that was now well posted with sentries. Squads of troops were still moving about.
Sitting hunched up, elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, he waited in miserable suspense for what he was sure would happen.
The Pasha, after glancing at him several times, asked: "Is something the matter?"
"Yes."
"What is it?"
"I've made a terrible boob," confessed Cub morosely.
"In what way?" asked the Pasha.
Before Cub could answer the ground shook, and the mountains echoed a tremendous explosion. Hard on this came a volley of distant rifle shots accompanied by much shouting.
"What on earth was that?" demanded the Pasha, in a tense voice.
It is likely that he asked the question automatically, not expecting an answer. But the answer was forthcoming.
"That," replied Cub, "is my friends, attacking the cars. They think you are in one of them. Judging from the shouting I suspect that the bandits are out in full force, too, to lend a hand."
"Ah, yes, of course. What a pity," murmured the Pasha.
Cub pointed at the causeway. The door of the fort had been thrown open.
Horsemen were pouring out. "Here come reinforcements for the cars," he announced.
There was silence for a minute. Then: "Is there anything we can do?"
queried the Pasha.
"I'm afraid we've left it too late," returned Cub wearily. "Still, we might try," he added quickly. "Anything is better than sitting here doing nothing. We'll push along and try to get to the battle before there are too many casualties. If I can get to my chief and let him know we're all right he could call off the attack."
"You'll ne—er get along the road," asserted the Pasha. "To try would be suicide. Look, there are more men coming from the fort. At this rate there will soon be no one left n it."
Cub looked at a little knot of horsemen galloping at breakneck speed across the causeway. He recognised Karzoff in the lead.
The Pasha also saw him, for he exclaimed: "It's the governor himself!
What is he doing?
I should have thought his place was in the fort."
Cub laughed mirthlessly, for he knew the answer. "Karzoff has had enough of the fort,"
he said grimly. "He's coming out to give himself up. In that way he hopes to save his life and collect a bagful of gold. He's going to get a shock in a minute."
The horsemen appeared on the brow of the slope that led down to the fort.
There they checked for a moment, but then went on in the direction taken by the cars, whence still came the din of the onset.
Cub laughed again, although there was no humour in it.
"What amuses you?" asked the Pasha.
"Karzoff doesn't know what he's doing," explained Cub.
"I don't understand."
'He supposes that we've made contact with my friends, and told them of my arrangement with him. He thinks he's on safe ground, instead of which, when he tries to give himself up, he'll probably be shot."
"I don't think we need worry about that," said the Pasha.
"I'm not worrying about it," Cub told him. "All the same, it's time we tried to straighten things out. Come on."
He had just started off when, from somewhere close at hand, there came a sudden burst of shooting. He stopped at once, looking down at the near end of the causeway. The shots had come from somewhere near it, he fancied. In this, he now observed, he was correct, for two sentries who had been standing there had moved. One lay face downward on the road. The other was crawling away.
Before Cub could express an opinion on this event, indeed, before he could even think about it, the explanation was revealed in a manner that caused his lips to part in dismay.
From out of the rocks and bushes just above the drawbridge sprang a score or more of men dressed in garments which t
old Cub at once that they were members of Macgreggo's band. In fact, he recognised Sienco. They converged on the drawbridge, crossed it with a yell of triumph, and then rushed on across the causeway towards the open door of the fort. As Cub stared in startled bewilderment he recognised another figure, one that was unmistakable, racing ahead with Sienco. It was Copper.
"Now what is happening?" asked the Pasha, casually.
"It's our people attacking the fort," replied Cub dully.
"But why are they doing that?" questioned the Pasha.
"Heaven only knows," muttered Cub. Then, suddenly, the truth hit him like a blow. "Of course I know," he went on in a high-pitched voice. "They're after me! They think I'm in there."
"Ah. Quite so. Of course," murmured the Pasha.
Cub could only stand and stare as he tried to muster his wits, for this development was quite outside his reckoning. Yet, he mused, it was just the sort of crazy thing Gimlet would do. Having created a diversion on the road he would aim straight at the heart of the whole business by launching a frontal attack on the fort itself. Cub noted that it did not seem to be putting up much resistance—but then, he remembered that most of the garrison was outside. Gimlet, who must have been watching, would take that into account, no doubt. The governor himself was outside, if it came to that.
Macgreggo's men poured through the open door and were lost to sight.
What to do for the best Cub did not know. Should he stick to his original plan and try to make contact with Gimlet, or should he go after Copper to let him know that he was wasting his time? He feared that Copper, having got into the fort, would not leave it without him. For a few seconds he tarried in distraught indecision. Then, as he made up his mind, action returned to his limbs. He was no longer tired. Turning to the Pasha he spoke crisply. "Stay here," he ordered. "I'm going over to the fort.
Don't move. If you do I
may have difficulty in finding you again. I'll be back." Then, without waiting for the protests which he knew would come, he crashed his way through the bushes and tore down the slope towards the causeway, determined at all costs to get Copper out of what might well prove a trap.
07 Gimlet Bores In Page 10
