The Rajah's Fortress.
originally published as "The Rajah's Fortress" The Argosy No. 379-390, 8 March - 24 May, 1890; in Leather-Clad Tales of Adventure and Romance #35, 2 Aug 1890 -- New York: United States Book Co. (?); New York: Street and Smith (Medal Library No. 59), April 28 1900.
This text from: 1900 Street and Smith ed.
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Chapter No. |
Title |
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The Proclamation |
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Into the Wilderness |
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The Midnight Assassin |
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The Attack on Balet |
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The Rock of Kalema |
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The Runaway Gun |
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The Struggle on the Rock |
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The Struggle on the River |
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Colonel Cubit is Hard Pressed |
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The Chinaman Makes and Offer |
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Up the Sarawong Creek |
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A Rescue and a Strange Meeting |
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Melton is Mystified |
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XIV* |
Melton Sees the Castle |
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Topee Tells a Marvellous Tale |
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The Chinaman's Ruse |
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The Passage of the Tunnel |
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The Black Flag |
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The Attack Begun |
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Goliah Routs the Foe |
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A Mutual Surprise |
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Guy Makes a Strange Discovery |
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Guy Has a Close Shave |
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A Daring Proposition |
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Guy Enters the Fortress |
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The Struggle in the Arsenal |
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The Attack Begins |
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"I Know You Now, Nana Sahib" |
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The Fight in the Fortress |
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A Mysterious Disappearance |
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The Treasure Chamber |
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Topee Mysteriously Departs |
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A Successful Attack |
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A Dread Summons |
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A the Cannon's Mouth |
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Dalo Reveals His Identity |
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Conclusion |
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*title present, but chapter number is missing in the original (p.119)
A stranger entering the gates of Mandalay, the great capital city of Upper Burma, early on one August morning a few years ago would have been struck with wonder and amazement at the very unusual appearance of that populous town. On the main streets and avenues, and about the very gates of the city, stood groups and knots of people, all discussing with much gusto and many gestures what was evidently a universal subject of interest.
All classes and castes were there; the native artisans with their tools and shovels, women with water bowls and wicker baskets, shopkeepers in gay turbans and clean linen, Indian troops in their gray uniforms and Bombay helmets, British soldiers with swaggering stride, officers with dangling swords and long mustaches, a few civilians in tropical costumes; and mingled with all this cosmopolitan throng, adding a picturesque tone to it, were odd looking Chinese traders from the Shan States, and almond-eyed merchants from far Cathay, strangers who had brought their wares to this distant market.
From gate to gate the same unusual excitement prevailed, the same utter cessation of business, and, strange to say, wherever stood one of these chattering crowds, a great white placard was visible, tacked up on a neighboring tree or house.
These placards were to be found in every part of the city. On the outer walls and the palings of the gates, on the very temples and the pagodas, on the walls of the Residency and the British barracks, on the gilded guns that guarded the public square, and even on the carved pillars and the massive steps of the Royal Palace, that great gingerbread edifice of bronze and gold that thrust its minarets heavenward, the former abode of that young monarch who ruled his people with unlimited cruelty and despotism.
Each of the placards was the center of an interested audience. They were great white sheets printed in native Burmese and in English, and their meaning was quite important enough to have caused this furore of excitement, and rouse the people as they had never been roused since that terrible day when the gunboats were heard down the Irrawaddy, and the British columns filed in through the gates of the city, a victorious host of invaders. The proclamation read as follows:
" To all loyal subjects of the British flag dwelling in Lower and Upper Burma:
The sum of 50,000 rupees will be paid for the capture, dead or alive, of that notorious dacoit, Pandou Bas, commonly knows as Pandy, whose unlawful depredations at the head of his band of robbers and assassins are a terror and a menace to all Burma. And moreover be it known that whoever gives shelter and food to the above named Pandou Ras will be shot.
[Signed] General Tokar,
Commander of Her Majesty's forces in Burma,"
As the day wore on the excitement deepened, and the streets became more and more crowded, for all business was entirely suspended.
And yet it was not the mere fact of the proclamation that excited this interest. Many similar ones had been issued, and all to no effect, but in this ease the magnitude of the reward had dazzled all. Fifty thousand rupees! Why, for such a sum as that a Burman would sell his soul ten times over. It was a king's ransom, a fortune for a Prince, and as grim old General Tokar strode down from his quarters in the dusk of the evening, and saw the excited groups that still surrounded the placards, he smiled to himself and muttered softly:
"If that doesn't put an end to Pandy's career, nothing ever will."
General Tokar was fully justified in his opinion, for since daybreak hundreds of those staring placards had been posted in every town and station throughout Upper Burma, and thousands of wandering natives and British soldiers had read them with an intense desire to earn that fabulous reward.
As the last flickering gleams of the sun faded out on the gold-crested pagodas of the Royal City, a group of young officers, who are destined to fill a prominent place in our story, were assembled in a large apartment of a spacious building which had formerly been an annex to the palace of the king, but now provided the officers with sleeping quarters and mess rooms. It was a very cheerful room, looking out on the Royal Gardens. Soft rugs were strewn on the floor, quaint arms and bronze placques [sic] hung from the walls, and colored prints from the English illustrated papers added quite a touch of home.
The possessor of all these treasures, Captain Guy Chutney of the Ninth Hussars, sat at the head of a table in the center of the room, pulling his slender mustache and attending to the wants of his guests. At his right sat Lieutenant Jack Carew of the Hussars; on his left was a young American, Vance Terril, who had come to Burma with passports from the British authorities, and down at the end facing his host sat Melton Forbes a special correspondent of the London Post.
They were all good fellows in every sense of the word. Captain Chutney and Lieutenant Carew were but twenty-two years old; Terril was only twenty, while Forbes considered himself quite aged at twenty-five.
Terril was a smooth-faced young fellow, a characteristic American -- frank, good-natured and agreeable. Chutney and Carew were blond-haired, yellow-mustached young Englishmen, whose reckless bravery had already placed them high on the officers' list, and Forbes, who was perhaps more daring than any of them, wore his brown locks banged on his forehead, and had a waxed brown mustache and a little tuft of an imperial, in imitation, as he candidly confessed, of that greatest of war correspondents, Mr. Villiers, whom he most profoundly admired.
"Chutney," said Forbes, suddenly pulling a ponderous notebook and pencil from his pocket, "you'll excuse me, won't you? I really must send off a dispatch at once. And by the way, Terril, I'm on the hunt for news, you know, so excuse my bluntness, and tell me just what brought you to Burma, won't you? There may be something in it for me, you know."
Terril joined in the laugh that followed.
"Well, Melton," he said slowly, "I didn't come to Burma on a pleasure trip, that's certain. I have an elder brother Loyd, who was always of an adventurous disposition, and his last exploit was to lose himself in Burma about three years ago, just before the British invasion took place. He was attempting to reach the famous ruby mines, and he actually succeeded in penetrating as far as Pazan. There his guides deserted him and returned to the coast. From that time nothing has been heard from hiin. The chances are that he is dead, of course, and it is principally the hope of learning something of his fate that induced me to come to such a pestilential place as this. You see he may possibly be living," he added, with a touch of earnestness that showed he still hoped.
"That's so," said Chutney. "He may be a prisoner among the dacoits."
"Ah, now that sounds interesting," said Forbes. "A long lost brother! That reminds me of an incident that happened when the Camel Corps marched up the Nile to relieve Khartoum. We resurrected an old fellow who had been a captive for thirty years. Couldn't speak a word of English any more, and turned out to be worth a cool ten thousand a year at home in England. By Jove, nothing is impossible."
"I know of one thing that is," said Carew, lighting a cheroot and leaning back in his chair.
"And what's that?"
"I refer to the capture of Pandy, and the earning of the fabulous reward Tokar offers for him."
"You are not far from right on that, Jack," said Chutney. "Here is where the rub comes in. I have yet to see the man, or woman either, that ever saw Pandy, or could give an accurate description of him. He is a wonderfully sharp fellow, and keeps well out of the way himself. And if all reports are true, he is a horrible savage and bloodthirsty demon. Has a habit of soaking his prisoners in oil and then setting them on fire. As Jack says, the chances of getting him are very slim. It's no use marching an army into the jungle. He knows every secret path from here to Chittagong. The reward may do what all our armies can never do. These Burmans are avaricious and greedy, and some of his own followers may be tempted by fifty thousand rupees. I have a conviction on one point that nothing can ever shake. This dacoit chief is no Burman. And I do firmly believe" -- here Guy lowered his voice -- "that he is really one of the exiled leaders of the Indian mutiny, perhaps the terrible Nana Sahib himself."
Crash!
All sprang to their feet in alarm. Dalo Pant, Chutney's Indian servant, had dropped a great bronze tray of glasses in the doorway, and with an ashen look of terror on his features was leaning against the carved pillars. With an effort he recovered himself when he found all eyes turned on him, and picking up the fragments he disappeared.
"Confound his carelessness," muttered Guy. "First time that ever happened."
"It scared him terribly," said Terril. "He turned nearly white."
"What was I saying?" resumed Guy. "Oh, yes; after the mutiny the ringleaders fled in every direction. Most of them were taken and shot, but Nana Sahib and a few others were never heard of from that day to this. It may be a very silly theory of mine, but somehow or other I feel pretty deeply convinced that I am right. There are two points in my favor. Pandy is known to have a deep and especial hatred for Englishmen. Quite natural, of course, you will say, since it is the English who have disputed his claim to rob and plunder Burma. Another point is this. He goes to a wonderful amount of trouble to keep out of sight. The skill with which he guides and controls all his marauding expeditions is marvelous. From all I can make out, he hides in the jungle when a fight is going on and shouts out his orders from under cover. I'd give two hundred rupees this minute to find a man who has had a close view of the scoundrel."
"Will you, though, Chutney?" said Melton Forbes, coolly finishing his dispatch and stowing the notebook away. "Well, I'll produce just the man you want, for nothing, in the short space of ten minutes. I have him down at my quarters now -- been pumping him for the Post. Just sent off three columns last night. Wait till I send this off, and I'll bring the fellow back with me," and waving his dispatch he hurried off, leaving his companions dumb with amazement.
"It beats me how that man Forbes gets on to these things," said Chutney. "He actually wrote up that battle at Popa Pass an hour before it occurred so as to get ahead of a Standard correspondent, and by Jove, he hit it almost exactly, too -- but what is the matter, Dalo? You look really ill."
"Nothing, sahib," replied the Indian, with a keen glance from his dark eyes. "Nothing, sahib."
Melton came back shortly, followed by a tall, bronzed man of probably forty, wearing a turban and clad simply in a light woollen [sic] jacket and waistcloth.
"Gentleman," said Melton, "this is Hassam, a native of Burma, and a worker in gold leaf and bronze by profession."
Hassam made a profound salaam and showed his white teeth.
"Now, Hassam," Melton continued, "Captain Chutney wants to hear about that little adventure of yours with Pandy, the dacoit. Tell him just what you told me."
Hassam sat down on a seat that was proffered, and all chairs were drawn around him.
"It happened three years ago, sahibs," he began, " when I was ornamenting a temple of Budda[h] at Pazan. Pazan is a great city, many, many thousands of years old, and there is much treasure there.
When the news came that the English sahibs were coming with guns and cannon, the people became alarmed and many fled, so that few soldiers were left to guard the town. It was nightfall when firing was heard on the walls, and the news spread that Pandou, the terrible robber, had come. I was much afraid and fled, but as I neared the farther gates of the town, a voice called piteously for help. It came from a little mudhouse near the walls, and when I pushed away the door of thatch, here was a white man, a sahib like yourselves, lying sick and unable to move. He could speak my language, and he told me he had been sick and was now getting better, and he begged me not to leave him, for the robbers --"
"A white man, did you say?" cried Terril, strangely agitated. "How old was he? Do you know his name?"
"I know but little, sahib," continued Hassam. "He was very young, and I could not leave him alone to die. I tried to carry him on my back, but of a sudden the robbers fell on us, and we were captured. They took us to the golden temple, and here in the courtyard sat the great robber himself, surrounded by heaps of gold and silver, precious stones and ancient treasure, all plundered from the temples. When he saw the white man his eyes glared like fire, and he rose to his feet. I was afraid and fell on my knees, and when I ventured to look up the robber chief was talking to the white man in your own language, sahibs, in the English language."
"Talking in our language!" interrupted Chutney. "Are you sure, Hassam?"
"Yes, for he said to him, 'you are an accursed Feringhi,' and the white man said, 'No, I am a 'Merican man. You dare not harm me.'"
"It was Loyd! It was my poor lost brother!" cried Terril, grasping Hassam's hand in his excitement. "And what became of him, tell me quick! Quick, Hassam, don't keep me waiting!"
"I don't know, sahib. The chief said something to his men in a strange tongue, and they put the white man on a pony and led him away."
"But the robber chief," cried Chutney impatiently. "Tell us what kind of a man he was."
Hassam paused and drew a long breath. "I was afraid," he said simply. "He was very terrible. His eyes were dark, but his skin was light and his head was close shaven and covered with a turban full of diamonds that shone like fire. When he looked at me I fell on my face again, but two robbers jerked me roughly up. The chief snatched from his belt a curved sword, and came toward me. I believe he would have killed me with his own hand, but the sword he held was hung at the handle with little golden chains, and these caught in the purple jacket that was about him. He was furious with anger, and jerked it loose with all his strength. In doing so he tore the purple from his breast, and there on the dark skin I saw a strange mark, the like of which I never saw before. It did not appear as the scar of a wound, sahibs, for it was blue in color and strange in shape.
"When the chief saw what he had done, he stood still and a look of fear came on his face. Then he quickly drew the torn jacket about him, and went into the temple, but first he pointed to me, and cried to his men in a terrible voice, 'cut that dog's head off.'
"But one of the robbers was a man from my own village, to whom I had done a kindness a long time before, and who had gone off to join the dacoits. When the others were not looking he said: 'Run, Hassam, quick!' and then he shot his gun in the air. I was fleet of foot and got safely to the jungle."
As Hassam ended, Chutney came forward with a piece of paper.
"Can you show me what that mark was like, Hassam?" he inquired eagerly.
The native, with some reluctance, took the pencil and spread the paper on the table before him. He hesitated a moment as though uncertain where to begin, and lifted his eyes to the doorway opposite, which was hung with many folds of ancient Burmese tapestry.
Chutney and Terril, who were nearest, saw a sudden look of terror on his face, and then with a sharp cry he dropped pencil and paper, and sprang up from his chair.
"The face! The face!" he cried.
Chutney rushed to the door and jerked aside the curtains. No one was there. In an apartment beyond Dalo could be heard rattling glassware as he deftly mixed cooling drinks.
Forbes pressed a glass to his lips, and in a moment he recovered and sat up. He pushed the paper from him.
"Not tonight, sahibs," he said firmly. "I saw the awful face of the robber chief in that doorway. It came as a warning. I dare not make that mark now."
"Nonsense," said Forbes, "you were dreaming, Hassam."
The native shook his head.
"May I go, sahib?" he said, and as Forbes nodded he glided gracefully out of the room, before Terril, who jumped up, could stop him.
"My brother!" he cried excitedly. "I must know more about him."
" Hassam will be better able to talk to you tomorrow," said Forbes. " He is strangely excited tonight. I don't see what came over him. He lives in constant fear of Pandy, as though a sword were hanging over him all the time."
Chutney had been fumbling over a shelf of books in the corner of the room, and now he came forward with an open volume in his hand.
"Listen," he said in a strangely triumphant voice. "Here is what Dunmore says in his work on the Mutiny: 'Nana Sahib, the most inhuman and bloodthirsty among the leaders, was quite a young man, a prince of royal blood, of pleasing address, and fine appearance, a fluent conversationalist and especially proficient in the English language. When a mere boy he visited Calcutta, and is said to have had the royal sign of his family tattooed on his breast by a British sailor.'"
No one spoke as Guy ceased reading. All were impressed by the strange chain of circumstances that connected Guy's suspicions with Hassam's story, and the extract from the history of the "Great Mutiny."
Then Guy said slowly:
"The British Government have for years vainly sought for trace of Nana Sahib. Cawnpore and Lucknow have never been avenged. There is a mystery here, a great mystery, and I am determined to get to the bottom of it."
"I will go with you," cried Terril, leaning over and grasping Guy's hand. "I must look for my brother."
"And I," cried Forbes, rising, "in my official capacity as special correspondent of the London Post will follow on the heels of the mystery. The 50,000 rupees," he added, "are a strong incentive, I admit, but -- Great Scott! Listen! What's that?"
Outside on the still night air, completely drowning the peal of Guy's clock as it struck the midnight hour, rose a fearful and startling uproar. First a shout then another and another, the loud report of a gun, the clash and rattle of arms, a tumult of voices, and then the quick, steady roll of drums, and the fierce notes of a bugle sounding the call to arms.
What could be the meaning of this strange irruption on the usually placid calm of the Royal City? Guy and Jack seized their swords, Forbes grasped a pair of revolvers, handing one to Terril, and then all rushed headlong down the winding stairway, and bolted out into the great square, now illuminated by a score or more of waving torches.
People were running to and fro, crying out loudly, and from the great bronze-facaded barracks facing the Royal Gardens there poured, like bees from a hive, a steady stream of soldiers. The square was now a surging mass of natives and Europeans who, roused by the alarm, and eager with curiosity, had overwhelmed the sentries at the approaches.
A double column of troops fell in line. "Clear the square?" shouted the commanding officer, and with a quick, steady tread and a flash of bayonets, they drove the excited crowds into the narrow streets beyond.
Two soldiers rushed past with a rude stretcher. "This way, captain," they cried, catching sight of Chutney.
"What is the row?" Forbes shouted after them, but they hurried on, unheeding.
Guy hesitated a moment, uncertain whether to join his company or to follow the scattered officers and soldiers who were running toward the heart of the square. Forbes and Terril had already vanished, so he started off on a run, leaving Carew still staring about him in bewilderment.
He forced his way into the meshwork of paths that intersected the Royal Gardens, and, guided by the flash of torches, made his way towards the little lake in the center, the former boating ground of King Theebaw. The air was heavy and oppressive with the odors that arose from tropical plants and palm trees, and birds of brilliant plumage, startled by the excitement, rose shrieking before him.
He reached the center and emerged on the little esplanade that encircled the lake. On a great carved seat of gold and ivory were dark stains, a pool of blood, and a trail of red drops led down the steps to the edge of the water, where lay in plain view a prostrate form. A dozen men stood on the lower step, and, as Guy advanced, Forbes turned round.
"This is horrible, Chutney," he groaned. "Poor Hassam! His fate has overtaken him already."
Too horrified to reply, Guy descended the steps. Yes, it was Hassam's motionless figure that lay half in the water, half on the marble steps, with the dark face and the staring eyes looking skyward.
Then the surgeon hurried up, a brisk, busy little man with a surgical case under his arm. The body was lifted from the water and placed on the ivory seat.
"Why, what's this?" said the surgeon. "Blood on the seat and on the ground! Yes; the man is dead, stone dead -- stabbed to the heart. Must have been sitting on the seat at the time. Why -- hullo! This is that servant of yours, Forbes. What does this mean?"
"I don't know," said Forbes, gloomily. "He left Chutney's quarters not an hour ago. My rooms are just across the corner of the square, and how the poor fellow got here is more than I can see."
"Better have the sentries examined at once. How was the discovery made?" inquired Chutney.
"The sentry at the palace heard a cry," said Lieutenant Sherston, "and very foolishly fired off his gun. Of course the general alarm was sounded at the barracks, and the whole city is in a state of confusion by this time."
Captain Chutney ground his heel savagely on the marble flags.
"Put that sentry in the guardroom, pending an inquiry," he said sternly, and with a touch of auger. "If he had quietly reported, it would have been an easy matter to catch the assassin. Now the rascal has slipped out, no doubt, when the square was cleared."
"What object could there have been for the murder ?" said Forbes. "I don't believe Hassam knew a soul in Mandalay. I took him off a trader's boat on the Irrawaddy. As for valuables, the poor fellow didn't own half a rupee, to my certain knowledge. But I must go over and mail some letters."
And turning abruptly, to hide a suspicious moisture in his eyes, he strode away to his quarters. Poor Hassam was removed on a stretcher, and Chutney and Carew went off together to make a personal investigation, while Terril walked slowly to his apartment, strangely impressed by the cruel death of this unfortunate Burman, who had given him news of his lost brother.
Before dawn the mystery had deepened. Twelve approaches led to the square. All had been carefully guarded by two sentries, and each sentry swore that none but duly authorized soldiers had passed in up to the time of the alarm.
It was certain then that the murder had been committed by some one who belonged within. The native servants were all summoned before the court of inquiry, and closely searched and questioned, but nothing was discovered, no clew was found and the matter was reluctantly dropped.
Forbes alone may be said to have had a suspicion, but it was so slight, so unfounded, that he scarcely dared allow himself to think of it. But nevertheless he fancied more than once that Dalo Pant's swarthy face wore an expression of ill-concealed triumph, and that the dark, glittering eyes had a vaguely sinister appearance.
But all this Melton wisely kept to himself, for a bond of friendship existed between Chutney and the Indian which dated from the day when Guy had at considerable risk saved him from a wounded tiger in the Neilgherry Hills. So Melton kept his own counsel, but at the same time kept an eye on Dalo.
It was just one week after the assassination of Hassam, when Chutney, Carew, Forbes and Terril were smoking their morning cheroots on the palace steps, while the breeze, delicious from the fragrance of the Royal Gardens, blew down on them.
Out at the Residency Gate was heard the challenge of the sentinel, the sharp sound of a rifle butt dropped on the marble flagging, and then straight through the massive pillars dashed a black horse, sweating and perspiring, carrying a rider in a faded, well-worn uniform.
Straight across the square the trooper spurred rapidly, and, jerking the horse to his haunches directly in front of the palace, he bounded from the saddle, ascended the steps between the two great rows of gilded idols, and, saluting, handed Guy an official blue document. Another salute, and he was gone as quickly as he came, and the rattle of the hoofs echoed fainter and fainter down the long, dusty street.
As he tore the seal and glanced over the document, Guy's eyes sparkled exultantly.
"Here's luck," he cried. "Listen to this:"
To Captain Chutney, of the Ninth Hussars, at Mandalay:
On receipt of this you will take three companies of hussars and march as rapidly as possible to join the Chindwin River expedition, which now awaits you at the junction of the Chindwin and Irrawaddy.
[Signed], Colonel Cubit.
Commander of the River Forces in Burma.
"By Jove," they all cried, "that is luck!" "Yes," added Guy, "for the object of the expedition is to attack some of the dacoit towns that flourish on the Upper Chindwin. We may even get on the track of Pandy himself, and if we do " -- he paused significantly, and then, pulling out his watch added hurriedly: "The time is short. By noon we must be in the saddle. Carew, you and Terril are attached to my staff, and you, Forbes, as newspaper correspondent, may accompany us. Now then, make your preparations, and be at the barracks in marching order at noon sharp, for we must cover a hundred miles before sundown tomorrow." And tearing himself laughingly from their manifestations of gratitude, Captain Chutney dashed across the square with his hand on his sword belt.
While the great square echoes to the trampling of hoofs, and the clash and rattle of sabers, and the gallant hussars troop out of the city, and trot across the plain, the first stage of that expedition which has in store for them perils that would make even their stout hearts quail if they foresaw them, we must give our readers a bird's eye view, as it were, of the scene of our story.
You know, of course, that Burma is sometimes called Farther India, that Thibet lies north of it, China on the east, India proper on the west, and on the south, Siam and the Bay of Bengal. It is the land of the tiger cat, the wild elephant, and the dacoit, and for savage ferocity the dacoit stands without a rival.
Lower Burma has long been a British possession, but it is scarcely three years since England, moved by the tears and groans of King Theebaw's subjects, went up the Irrawaddy River in force, took the forts of Ava, Mandalay, and the sacred person of King Theebaw, and proclaimed British rule throughout the country.
From that day to this, little more has been done. The wily dacoit disputes every step of ground with the redcoats, and slaughters alike British and Burmese. And the end of the conflict is yet far distant, for these dacoits, comprising Chinese criminals from over the border, refugees from India, and traitorous members of King Theebaw's family, are led by bloodthirsty demons who lose no opportunity of taking the soldiers by surprise, murdering them in cold blood, and then gliding off into their jungle fastnesses where none can follow.
The very head of all the dacoit bands, the man whose cunning devises all the murderous plots, is the notorious Pandy, that mysterious person whom few have seen, whom all dread with uncontrollable fear.
Who he is, what he is, where he can be found, that is the mystery. In his hands lies the fate of Loyd Terril, a fate which his brother Vance swears to unravel, since poor Hassam gave him the clew. As to his identity, that is puzzling the minds of Captain Chutney and Lieutenant Carew, and for the memory of Cawnpore and Lucknow they will let no perils thwart them in their object.
With a hope of earning the fifty thousand rupees, and of carving for himself a reputation like unto that of Villiers, Melton Forbes the "special" will throw himself heart and soul into the undertaking. Even now the expedition is speeding into the heart of the country, with guns trained and sabers sharpened for the attack on the dacoit strongholds.
And Dalo Pant, the grave, dark-faced Indian with the beadlike eyes, why has he so willingly accompanied his master in search of unknown perils? What part will he play in this great drama on which the curtain even now is rising?
"Now, then, Chutney, you see that great rock directly in front rising high in the air. That is the famous Rock of Kalema, where the Burmans hold sacred festivals in the spring, and somewhere round the bend lies Balet."
The speaker was Colonel Cubit himself. With two or three officers around him he was standing on the upper deck on one of those great steam barges of the Irrawaddy Flotilla Company, which was plowing its way slowly up the muddy tide of the Chindwin River. From the lower deck came at intervals the neighing of horses impatient at their long confinement, for more than a week had passed since the expedition had started. It was now approaching the vicinity of a great dacoit stronghold, the town of Balet, though the commander possessed no certain knowledge of its location.
"There is a man on top of the rock, unless my eyes deceive me," he said, and then taking another survey he added: "He has disappeared now."
"Gone to spread the alarm, no doubt, the scoundrel," growled the colonel. "Get ready to land now, Chutney. Balet is close at hand somewhere."
The ponderous barge forged ahead more slowly, drawing nearer and nearer to the great rock that towered fifty feet in air straight from the center of the river. On the left lay high bluffs crowned with pine trees, and on the right a sharp rocky promontory jutted outward.
Every tree and bush was closely scrutinized by a dozen pair of field-glasses. The gunners stood by their pieces ready to open a fusillade of bullets, but no sound broke the dead calm of the hot noonday.
The river current was surging by them with increased force, and the mighty paddle wheels groaned as they churned the yellow foam. A dead limb, a floating clump of bushes shot past with marvelous swiftness. What was the cause of it?
The colonel peered through his glasses, and then shouted quickly to the pilot: "Slow up a little and keep to the right," and as the officers crowded about him he pointed ahead.
"A mountain stream joins the river beyond that promontory," he said briefly. "Look at the whirlpool tossing about the base of that rock."
All glasses were instantly raised, and a single glance proved the colonel to be right. A yellowish torrent poured abruptly into the river, dashing against the side of the rock and forming about its base a swirling, eddying whirlpool that had a very forbidding aspect. To attempt to stem this impetuous flood with the barge would be perilous. On the left the channel was smooth and calm; and the pilot steered in closer to the shore.
With redoubled caution they now moved on. Chutney kept his hand on his revolver pouch. Terril and Carew wisely put themselves in the shelter of the cotton bales that lined the deck, while Forbes, seated on a gun carriage, was rapidly sketching the rock of Kalema.
They were opposite the mouth of the stream now, a mountain creek that came winding down through dense forests. There was a brief glimpse of distant purple peaks, and then gliding across the view came the great specter of the rock. As they forged past it into the open part of the river again a murmur of surprise burst from all as they saw its upper extremity. While on three sides it was steep and precipitous, on the face of it that lay up the river there were cut in the solid rock fifty or more great massive steps, flanked by a stone coping beginning at the water's edge and reaching clear to the lofty summit. All along the sides were rows of quaint and curious idols, of great size, some with heads of men and others with the likenesses of strange beasts. On the high summit stood a pagoda, with bronze and gilded dome. No living creature was in sight, only a great bird that flapped its wings noisily over the idols and flew to the forest.
A plain view of the right bank of the river was now had. A gentle slope rose from the shore, grown only with low bushes, and beyond were forests stretching to the foot of lofty mountains.
The colonel glared about him helplessly.
"Where the deuce is the town?" he cried. "It surely is -- hallo, there's a turret or cupola or something, glistening in the sun."
The colonel had sharp eyes. It was the gilded spire of a pagoda, and very probably marked the site of the town. Noiseless preparations were made as the pilot steered across the stream directly toward a small rise in the bank. The paddles revolved, the great barge swung round with the current, and just as it neared the shore a treacherous sand bank loomed up, and in a moment they were tight aground.
There was no time to lose. An immediate attack must be made. Fortunately the gangplank reached the bank and with all possible haste horses and men crossed to the shore until the three companies of hussars and three companies of Madras Infantry stood ranged in line, giving hasty glances at their arms, and holding their impatient steeds, for on this occasion the colonel had mounted the infantry. Two Gardiner guns on wheels were the last to come over, and then the gangplank was hauled in by the little detachment left to guard the steamer.
It was an exciting moment for Colonel Cubit. It was hard to believe that the occupants of the town were unaware of their approach. Had they evacuated the place, or were they lying in wait beyond the hill?
Absolutely nothing was known of the town or its defenses. Under these circumstances to make an attack with such a handful of men was at least imprudent.
The second barge, containing an elephant battery and six companies of native Indian troops from Bombay, was half a day's journey in the rear. The colonel had unlimited faith in the ability of his soldiers to whip ten times their own number of Burmans. To attack might be risky. To await the arrival of the other steamer might be fatal, for no attack could be made in the dark, and before morning the enemy could do a great deal.
It really was most probable the place was deserted. The dacoits would hardly have been so reckless as to await the coming of the British troops.
Colonel Cubit glanced at the eager faces of his men, at the officers calm and resolute, and in a low voice he cried:
"To horse!"
A rattle of sabers, a clank of spurs, and every man was in the saddle, the lines in one hand, a short rifle in the other. Forbes and Terril waved their hands to Carew, who was left in charge of the steamer. Beside him on the upper deck stood Dalo. Chutney had denied his earnest request to be allowed to accompany him, and the Indian's face wore such a deep look of disappointment that Forbes was actually ashamed of his suspicions.
The afternoon sun was shining brightly on the slope, sprinkled with fragrant wild rose bushes. Chutney looked about him uneasily as he tightened his belt.
"It's the calm before the storm," he whispered to Forbes, and Terril, who were close at hand.
Suddenly the colonel's orders rang out sharp and clear, and in a long bristling line they trotted up the slope. The brow of the hill was fringed with bushes and high grass, and now beyond it they could see clustered houses, palisades and yellow domes, nestling among great palm and plantain trees.
They are almost at the brow of the hill now. "Is the place really deserted?" Chutney asked himself, and on the very second, as though in answer, that treacherous fringe of waving grass bursts into flame and smoke, and a rattling musketry fire rakes down the hill.
A cry bursts from the colonel. Two riderless horses are prancing about the field. Another plunges high in air as its rider clutches the empty air and falls forward on the animal's neck.
The line wavers a moment, closes up, and at a furious gallop sweeps up the hill. Another feeble volley from the enemy, and with drawn sabers the hussars dash over the crest and pursue the scattered foe among the long grass and bushes.
Chutney glances about him. Forbes and Terril are close at hand. Colonel Cubit is wiping the perspiration from his face. "Confound such fighting," he cries. "The rascals have slipped off into the grass. There is hot work ahead, though;" and following his outstretched hand Chutney sees a quarter of a mile distant the stockades of the town.
A great drum is beating, and a dark mass pours from the gates. Like the winding coils of a serpent the tangled line unravels itself on the plain. The place is a very hotbed of dacoits, and the colonel jerks out his glasses angrily.
"They are coming in force," he says finally, and then in a terrible voice he shouts, "Bring the guns forward, Chutney!"
As the little iron monsters are wheeled to the front, the men dismount, picket their horses, and march slowly forward to meet the advancing line of the enemy.
Forbes coolly whips out a notebook and dashes off a hasty sketch of the foe.
Chutney envies his calmness, for he is strongly doubtful of the ultimate result of the conflict, while with more of curiosity than fear Terril watches the motley horde.
Colonel Cubit is jerking at his long mustaches as he waits the decisive moment.
The foe is close now -- a host of grim, desperate fellows, clad in scant jackets and waistcloths of dirty linen, and armed with every conceivable weapon. There are black men from the Kazen Hills, and olive-colored, villainous faced Chinamen, with shaven heads.
Suddenly, at a sign from the colonel, the Gardiner guns send a raking fire into the thick mass. The leaden shower plows a gap that is instantly closed up, and then with a terrific yell the enemy come on at a trot. The rifle fire of the hussars is answered by a steady roll of musketry from the foe, and a stone cannon ball from an antiquated brass cannon that luckily does no harm.
Then with a cheer the hussars dash forward. Sabers flash as the two lines of battle meet. A moment of awful suspense, and then sullenly and doggedly the dacoits fall back, fighting every inch of ground, and leaving their dead at every step.
Now they stand still, pressed on by those behind, and then as the long line of sabers flash in the sunlight with grim determination, they waver again. Chutney and Terril are in the very front, mad with excitement. The timult is fearful, and as the colonel observes with a sickening fear that fresh bodies of the foe are emerging from the town, a solitary trooper comes at a furious gallop up the slope from the river.
A stray bullet strikes the horse, and he plunges headlong, hurling his rider to the ground, but not hurt apparently, for he springs to his feet and dashing into the fray with drawn saber forces his way to the colonel's side.
"The enemy are gathering on the other side of the river!" he cries in a voice that rings above the deafening tumult of the battle. "The steamer is in danger."
Colonel Cubit ground his teeth and, for the first time, perhaps, realized the peril which theatened his little detachment. Not a man could be spared. The foe were stubbornly contesting every inch of ground, and the result was doubtful. Yet to lose the steamer would be equivalent to burning his ships behind him.
He looked into the stubborn faces of his men. They were fighting grimly, desperately, sabering the foe, and emptying their revolvers into the crowded ranks as fast as they could load and fire.
The dacoit leaders began to see the folly of throwing their men away at the point of the sword, and finally they fell back a little toward the town, and the hussars had a breathing spell.
"Chutney," began the colonel as Guy came up stained with blood and powder, and reeking with perspiration. "Chutney, I have work for you. The foe have appeared across the river. They must not take the steamer. Get possession of the Rock of Kalema in some way, I don't care how you do it. Take a mountain gun. Then your position is impregnable, and with the gun yon can command the steamer and the crossing of the river. I can't spare a man, though. You must do it all with the detachment on the steamer. I will mount the men now and take the town by storm if I can."
Guy shook the colonel's outstretched hand, and mounting his horse, galloped at a furious pace down the slope, followed at a little distance by Terril, who had overheard Guy's orders and was determined to accompany him.
As he came in sight of the river the scene that met his eyes was startling enough. At the foot of the pine-crowded bluff on the other shore were scores of dacoits, apparently well armed. They were hurriedly constructing a rude raft of teak logs, and Guy instantly perceived their object. They were going to take possession of the rock.
From the deck of the steamer Carew and his twenty men were popping away at them, but with little success.
Guy's first thought was that the steamer might be backed off the sand bar into deep water; but the pilot assured him it was impossible at present. Every effort had failed.
To remain on board and attempt to hold the craft against the enemy was out of the question. What defense could twenty men make as long as the boat was in its present situation? Guy saw plainly that the only hope lay in taking the rock and training a mountain gun on the steamer.
Calmly and quickly he gave his orders. No use could be made of the horses. There was no space for them on the rock. The planking of the decks was hurriedly torn up, and half a dozen wide floats constructed.
One small boat was on board and in this was placed the Gardiner gun, and a supply of ammunition. Then in the face of a wicked fire from the enemy, who at once saw their purpose, the men embarked on the frail rafts and steering obliquely down and across, made a safe landing on the level space at the foot of the rock.
Guy hesitated for a moment as to what to do with the floats, then ordered them to be pushed off into the current.
Then the ascent was begun to the summit. The passageway between the copings, with their rows of carven idols, was barely fifteen feet wide, and the steps were broad and low. With wonder and amazement Guy looked at this tremendous piece of work all done by hand labor, and evidently very aged, for the steps were worn in the center and the idols were chipped and weather-beaten. The whole rock had the general aspect of a great toboggan slide and was doubtless the abode of some venerated idol.
There were just fifty steps and then a brief level space fronting the pagoda, which was of more modern construction, built of teak logs and bamboo, and covered by a very gay and gaudy dome.
The interior was strewn with mats, and along the wall were ranged, in a half circle, a dozen of the ugliest idols Guy had ever seen. They were carved from wood and stone and were painted in glaring colors. Behind the central idol a small aperture gave access to the rear of the rock. A three foot stone coping surrounded all, and fifty feet below, the whirlpool roared and foamed. The gun was planted at the head of the steps and carefully trained on the steamer.
Meanwhile the dacoits on the shore had not been idle. Two great rafts containing twenty to thirty men apiece were launched some yards up the river, and now were drawing dangerously near the steamer. Guy was at first uncertain whether they had designs on the boat or intended making an attack on the rock itself.
"They are hardly foolish enough to come down here," said Carew. "We could hold this place against any army. No -- look, they are steering for the steamer now, Chutney."
The first raft was barely twenty yards from the steamer's side, and its occupants were preparing to board her.
They little dreamed of the surprise in store for them. Chutney trained the gun with his own hand, and trained it well, too, for the hail of bullets that poured from its quivering muzzle stretched half a dozen dacoits lifeless across the logs, and the rest in fearful terror and panic plunged headlong into the river, and swam for the shore. Two made directly for the steamer, but half a dozen well aimed rifle shots sent them to a watery grave.
The second raft put back with all speed, and Guy, sick of the slaughter, did not molest it. The echoes of this brief fight had hardly died away when repeated firing came from the direction of the town. The summit of the rock was directly opposite the great bluff that lay on the lower side of the creek, and nothing could be seen of Balet but two or three housetops.
Guy listened with much anxiety. Soon the firing ceased again with the exception of a stray shot or two, but presently it started in again fast and furious, and the sudden roar of the rifles, mingled with the cracking fusillade of the Gatlings, told that a fierce conflict was waging.
Chutney strode up and down the narrow space before the pagoda. The sun was sinking fast, and night would soon be on them.
"The steamer is lost," he said gloomily to Carew and Terril at his side. "No aid can come from the colonel. Even now he may be overpowered, though from the constant firing I judge he has taken some strong position and is holding it against the enemy. The other steamer should be here now," and he glanced down the river as he spoke.
"If it doesn't arrive before dark," he went on, "the dacoits will take our boat, and we can do nothing to prevent it. Why, suppose Cubit has taken the town, what will prevent those fiends from circling round here and boarding the steamer? If they don't do it the fellows on the other shore will cross in the darkness and do it for them. It was madness to make an attack without waiting on the other steamer. Cubit has underestimated the fighting powers of these fellows. They appear to be all armed, and though they have only those old flint guns they know how to use them."
"There is such an infernal lot of them," interjected Carew.
"You know the information we had said the town was the abode of about five hundred dacoits, and by Jove, there are certainly nearer five thousand! Doesn't the firing keep up well? I hope Forbes will come out all right. He's never satisfied unless he is in the front every time."
Guy made no reply. His glasses were pointed down the river, but the two mile stretch to the bend gave no sign of the approaching steamer.
"Something is wrong," he said gravely. "They cannot even be within hearing distance, or they would have signaled when they heard the firing up here. If they arrive before dark and Cubit still holds the town all will go well; if not, Cubit is in terrible peril, our steamer is lost, and even this place may be taken before morning."
Guy did not exaggerate the peril. It was only another case of those traps that British soldiers are so often led into by their too confident commanders.
It was growing dark very rapidly. The dacoits on the shore were quiet, waiting evidently for night. Off toward the town the firing continued at intervals, a sure sign that Cubit still held his position. Guy's men were all well armed, and the gun was provided with ample ammunition. Twilight was rapidly succeeded by pitchy black darkness.
A sentry was placed on guard at the foot of the steps, and one half way up the ascent, with strict orders to fire at the least alarm. Two or three soldiers stood about the gun. The remainder were in the pagoda, making a supper off the provisions in their forage bags, and Guy and Terril seated on a bench outside were munching crackers.
The silence of the night was disturbed only by the distant firing in the town and the sucking roar of the whirlpool far below them. They had a couple of small lanterns, but they were not lit. It would only have offered a tempting target to the enemy, without danger of a return fire. There was promise of a moon later on, but at present the gloom was deep, and nothing could be seen beyond the nearest idols that rose on each side of the steps.
"Do you think two men are enough to guard the steps?" asked Terrill as he filled and lit a large meerschaum pipe. "You know it's pretty dark down there."
"Oh, yes," said Guy. "They are sharp, vigilant fellows, and at the least suspicious sound they will give the alarm, and then --" he paused suddenly. The gun had rattled on its shaft. No breath of air was stirring, and no one was near it. A soldier stepped forward.
"The stone is uneven, captain," he said reassuringly. "The gun don't stand straight."
"You see," resumed Guy, "I have hardly any fears of an attack on the rock just at present. They will turn their attention to the steamer first," and he groaned as he thought of the supplies and the horses that would fall into the enemy's hands.
"If Cubit had only waited for the other steamer," he continued, "It was a natural mistake. He believed he could take the town by surprise, or he would never have abandoned the steamer in that condition. It really looks to me as though --"
He came to a sudden stop with his mouth wide open, and brave young officer though he was, be felt the hair rising on his head. The gun was moving in front of his very eyes.
With a harsh rattle it glided to the verge of the steps, and, stupefied with fear, not a man moved forward. With a trembling hand Guy rubbed his eyes. It was a delusion, of course, but when he looked again the gun had vanished.
With a clattering roar and rumble and a whirring of wheels, the monster so marvelously endowed with life shot down the steps with the velocity of a rocket, and above the deafening tumult rang the sharp report of a rifle followed instantly by a cry of agony, and then the clattering died away in the distance, a splash echoed from the river far below, and all was quiet.
Guy leaped to his feet, and drawing his saber sprang down the steps in the darkness, followed by a dozen men. It was marvelous that none of them were dashed to pieces at the breakneck pace they were going, but they got half way down in safety, and then a motionless form stretched across the passage drew them up short.
Guy struck a match. It was poor Rodman, the sentinel. An ugly wound was on his forehead, evidently caused by striking the stone step. One leg too hung limp, and was probably broken; but he was breathing faintly. His rifle lay two or three steps below. The unfortunate fellow had been struck by the runaway gun. Whether he had fired his rifle at the approach of the monster or whether it had exploded when knocked from his grasp, none could tell.
The mystery was still as deep as ever, and sending two men back with the senseless body of Rodman, Guy led the search party on down the steps.
No sign had come from the sentinel at the bottom, and with a presentiment of some terrible disaster Guy moved forward foot by foot, scanning closely the coping on both sides and inspecting every carved figure to see that no enemy lurked behind it.
With a sigh of relief Guy stepped out on the broad foundation at the bottom. It was entirely empty. The sentry had disappeared, leaving no trace behind him. The rock was but a few inches above the water, and the current, splitting on its rounded front, rippled softly past on both sides.
No one ventured to speak for a moment. The whole affair was wrapped in a deep and awful mystery, that was thrilling and impressive.
"Poor Dorret," said Carew, and Terril huskily whispered, "Amen."
In spite of the risk Chutney decided to strike a light; and by the glare of a bunch of matches they explored every inch of the stone. Nothing was discovered that would tend to solve the mystery enshrouding the fate of the sentry, but one of the men picked up from the edge of the rock what appeared to be a fragment of rope. Chutney examined it with interest.
"This is of native manufacture," he said finally, "and sheds some light on the mystery. It has been broken from a longer piece. You can see now what kind of a foe we have to deal with. One of the wretches must have swam over to the rock, and stealing on the sentry unperceived, either choked or knifed him, and thrown the body in the river. Then he actually had the daring to ascend the steps, crawling unperceived past Rodman, and in front of our very eyes attached his rope to the wheel of the gun. It was an easy matter in the darkness to reach the bottom again, trailing the rope close along the coping. Then one jerk started the gun, and the fellow swam off in the darkness."
"And perhaps by this time," added Terril, "They have the gun on shore. The rope was nearly long enough to reach if the fellow swam over with the end of it."
"They can't make any use of it," said Guy, gloomily. "But, my stars, what a fix we're in now! Absolutely defenseless, for what can we do in the darkness if they swarm up the steps in force? We must barricade the top of the rock if possible, and try to hold it through the night."
"Captain," said a soldier, coming forward, "if you'll let me, I'll go down and see where that gun is," and as Guy nodded assent, the man quickly pulled off his clothes and dove straight off the face of the rock.
A full minute passed and each man riveted his eyes on the spot where he bad disappeared. Then he shot to the surface with a gasp, and crawled painfully out on the rock.
"It's no use," he said hoarsely. "I can't even find bottom, captain."
"Then I don't believe the dacoits have the gun," said Terrill. "They could make no use of it if they had for that matter, as you say, Chutney. But it puts us in an awfully bad way."
"A deuce of a fix," said Chutney. "We can only wait and see what is going to turn up next. They are still at it over yonder in the town. But it won't do to waste any more time here."
After another inspection of the rock, and a glance into the darkness around them, where all was quiet, they went slowly back up the steps. Guy felt reluctant to post any more sentries along the steps, but it was a plain necessity, and besides a dozen men volunteered for the dangerous duty.
Two were placed on the fourth step from the bottom, and two half way up where Rodman had been posted. It would be a difficult task now for the dacoits to approach without being discovered, and Guy felt considerably relieved in mind as he made a survey of the ground with a view to fortifying it.
It required but a short time to convince him that nothing could be done. The open space fronting the pagoda was so narrow that no room for a barricade existed, even had there been materials for its construction, though Guy had intended making use of the idols if nothing better offered. Nor would it be safe to intrench themselves within the pagoda. The enemy could swarm around it on all sides and butcher them like rats in a trap. They must stand out on the stone front and make the best defense possible.
Meantime all remained quiet, and Guy entered the pagoda to take a look at Rodman, who had been placed on a mat in the corner. His broken leg had been rudely set, but the poor fellow was still unconscious and breathing heavily.
"The gun must have struck him on the head and then run over him," said the soldier who was watching at his side. "But the skull is not fractured, captain, and when he gets over the shock of the concussion he will be all right."
"I hope so," said Chutney, walking to the entrance in response to a summons from Carew, who had just beckoned to him.
"Look here, Guy," said he, "I'd like to know what's going on down below. I heard distinctly a challenge from the sentinel a moment ago, and then loud talking. It has stopped now, and --Hullo, who's that?"
A familiar figure stalked slowly up the steps out of the gloom, and held out both hands.
"I'm infernally glad to see you fellows. Your stupid sentinel nearly put a bullet through me a moment ago."
"Forbes, by Jove!" they both exclaimed in wonder, and Forbes it really was, his uniform dripping wet, his helmet gone, his face stained with a mixture of blood and powder that the splashing of the water had resolved into grotesque streaks like that of an Indian in war paint.
"Yes, it's I," he said huskily. "I can hardly believe I'm here, though. Whew! what a time I've had," and he sat down on the upper step and rubbed his face with a handkerchief Carew handed him.
"What's the news?" Guy asked anxiously. "And how under the sun did you get here?"
"It's bad," said Melton, "very bad; but I say, Guy, fill your pipe and light it for me, will you? There, that's it;" and, blowing out a cloud of smoke, he went on:
"Cubit has made a brave fight of it today. He charged straight into the town, blew up the outer gate with shells from that little mortar, and then rode in right over the enemy, and, as luck would have it, found a big fortified temple all ready for them. It has regular loopholes in it, and a teak log palisade. Jove! but the dacoits have been swarming around that place all afternoon! I honestly believe there are thousands of them. They have Cubit trapped, that's certain, and, unless aid comes soon, it's all up with him. The ammunition is running low, too, and that's why I'm here. Cubit didn't dare ask any one to attempt to get through the enemy, but I volunteered to go, and my hands ache yet from the squeezing the colonel gave them when I left. You see I put on the turban and jacket of a dead dacoit and slipped out by the rear of the temple during a lull in the fight. I crawled among the dead bodies till I got away from the palisade, and then I jumped up and made a break for it. At the edge of the town a lot of them saw me and gave chase, but I slipped away from them in the darkness. When I reached the river I jumped right off the bank and swam, and lucky I was to strike the rock. I was most desperately afraid I would get into that whirlpool. And so there is no sign of that other steamer! That's bad, for, unless it comes soon, Cubit and the Hussars will never see Mandalay again, let alone England."
"We are no better off here, either," Guy said, and then he related to Forbes all that had occurred.
"If only there was a boat here," said Melton, "a messenger could go down the river after the other steamer. They must have been delayed from some cause, and are probably anchored for the night somewhere below us."
"Not very close to us, though," rejoined Guy, "or they would have heard all this firing and signaled to us in some way."
"That's true," said Melton, and then, during the brief pause that followed his remark, something happened that for the time being drove all thoughts of the other steamer from their minds.
From the foot of the rock came half a dozen rifle shots in quick succession, followed by loud explosions from two or three old muskets. Every man was on his feet in an instant, and the soldiers poured out from the rear of the pagoda.
Three of the sentries hurried up the steps and reported the landing of a large body of dacoits on rafts and boats. The fourth man had lingered behind to reconnoiter, and presently he made his appearance, breathless with excitement.
"There are two or three hundred of them, captain," he said. "They came down to the rock on six big floats, and there are more behind. Half of them have landed already. The leader is a big fellow with a shaven head, and a long gown."
"That is one of their priests," exclaimed Guy. "Doubtless the old duffer that lives in this very temple. If this is a religious crusade they are making, we must prepare for hot work. They imagine we are desecrating their idols, and as long as they can move a limb they will press right up to the muzzles of the guns."
Guy spoke in a careless, flippant tone to encourage the men, but he knew only too well what a grave aspect the situation had suddenly assumed, and what small chance they had of successfully resisting the enemy.
The floor of the pagoda was sprinkled with a whitish sand, and some of this was scattered over the stone frontage so that the men would not slip, for a hand to hand struggle was certain to ensue.
There was no long delay, no attempt at surprise, nor a stealthy, noiseless approach in the darkness, but Guy's prediction was fulfilled in a manner that was indeed startling.
With a hoarse shouting and a tumult of angry cries, the dacoits began the ascent, their progress marked by the flare of a dozen torches, while two or three brazen gongs, beaten loudly and incessantly, inflamed them almost to madness, to judge by the rising inflection of their voices.
"Just one volley, now!" said Chutney as the torches showed they were half way up, and the front line of soldiers discharged their rifles.
Mingled with the savage cries was perhaps a shriek or two of agony, but there was no stop, no pause, and the horde came steadily on up the steps, the torches illuminating, as they passed, the successive figures of the stone idols that lined the way
Another volley was as futile as the first. Several torches put slowly back as though wounded men were being carried to the bottom, but the main body pressed on. Far down by the river more blazing lights were seen, aad it was evident that fresh men were landing.
Chutney and Terril were in the center of the line, Forbes stood off on the right, and Carew was on the left.
"My brave fellows," said Chutney, turning to his men, "the issue of the fight is uncertain. It will be a desperate struggle, but if we are overpowered let each man fight to the last, as becomes a British soldier."
A short murmur of approval greeted this brief speech, and then a terrific shout from the foe put an end to further parley, as the dacoits made the final rush up the remaining dozen steps.
It was a horrible scene, the glare of the torches, the drifting smoke, the writhing mass of natives, while the deafening tumult only added to its horror, made up as it was with the agonizing shrieks from the wounded, and the ferocious imprecations and shouts of rage from the mass behind.
Another volley plowed its way downward with terrible effect, and nearly every bullet brought down its man, until an actual barricade of dead bodies formed on the steps, over which the foe madly climbed, only to topple over in turn as the sharp, ping, ping, ping of the rifle cracked with relentless regularity.
The drifting smoke now hid everything, the presence of the foe being made visible to those above only by a dull, reddish glare.
But still without cessation the rifles thundered and the bullets rattled down the steps like hailstones in a storm.
Accurate aim was out of the question, and under cover of the smoke the foe had not been idle, for swarming over the piles of dead they came up right in the teeth of that terrible fire, and it was a startling surprise to Chutney when the swarthy faces loomed up in front of him, more like demons than men, in the weird glare.
It came so suddenly that no time was given to sweep them down with a rifle fire. The shock struck the whole line simultaneously, and in an instant the fearful hand to hand struggle had begun.
Fire flashed from blade to blade; all clash of steel and rattling of sabers, flashing of spear points, and the crash of rifle butts, while above the din rang out the reports of revolvers.
But the dead were dragged away, and fresh demons poured into their places. With a sickening heart Guy saw man after man disabled or taken from his side. In vengeful wrath he flashed his saber as he cleared the space in front of him.
A powerful fellow in a green turban suddenly made a spring forward, and grabbed a man from the young captain's very side. He pulled him to the step below, and then a stroke from Guy's saber nearly severed the fellow's arm. The native coolly clutched his captive with the other hand and dragged him down still another step, when a bullet from Carew's revolver toppled him over stone dead; but the poor soldier was snatched by a dozen fiends, and with one despairing cry was swallowed up in the howling mass beneath.
Three or four steps down, visible at intervals as the dacoits surged to and fro, was the shaven head of the phonge or priest, the fanatic leader of the attack. The dacoits were guarding his person sacredly, as could be plainly seen, and it suddenly occurred to Melton that if the priest were out of the way the foe would become utterly disheartened and fall back.
It was worth trying, at all events, so watching his chance, when the shaven head bobbed up, he took as careful an aim as possible and fired.
The result was not just what he had anticipated. The bullet clipped off about an inch of the sacred man's ear, and buried itself in the head of the man behind.
The phonge gave a most terrific yell, and danced about with both hands to his head, while his followers, beside themselves with rage at this fearful outrage, redoubled their cries, and then, as Melton had hoped, drew off from the attack until they could see what damage was done to their sacred leader, for his actions indicated that his last hour had come.
In a single moment the steps were deserted, save for the heaps of dead and the scattered weapons that lay in pools of blood, and with cries of mourning the foe surged downward toward the bottom.
The brief breathing spell was intensely welcome and came as the breath of life to men already dead, for few had expected to come out of that struggle alive.
It was only a breathing spell though, for moving torches were now seen on the river. They landed at the rock, and with a low roar that was more dreadful and menacing than their most terrific outcry, the swollen body of the foe began the ascent for the second time.
They were actuated purely by a desire for vengeance this time, for a phonge with a missing ear is about as worthless as a log of wood. Melton's bullet might as well have pierced his heart at once,
"It's all up with us now," Chutney said coolly. "Our ammunition is low for one thing, and we'll never in the world drive those fellows back. Ten minutes will see them in possession of the pagoda."
No one spoke. No answer indeed was required, for all knew that Guy was speaking the simple truth. With a burning desire to sell their lives as dearly as possible, the little knot of men waited grimly on the verge of the steps.
From the pagoda behind came the groans of the wounded. It was an awful and a solemn moment, and it seemed to the wondering men like a sacrilege when Forbes suddenly shouted out:
"By Jove, I have a plan! I'll save you yet!"
He thereupon rushed into the pagoda, followed by Chutney and Terril.
"The stone bases of the idols," he cried exultantly. "Do you see them? And do you see what forms the foundation for the pagoda?"
Chutney looked at him as though doubting his sanity, and then a light broke over him as Forbes cried wildly:
"Are you blind, Chutney? Don't you see what I mean? Can the dacoits come up in the face of those great stones rolled down the steps? Why, they'll be crushed to a jelly."
"Forbes, you have saved our lives, I really believe," cried Guy, clasping the other's hand warmly. "And now to work, quick! The scoundrels are nearly halfway up."
Melton's idea was indeed a brilliant one. The idols, themselves carved of stone and wood, and very tall, rested on great stone cylinders, four feet high and probably two feet in diameter, and the pagoda itself was built on a foundation of these stone pillars.
With feverish haste the men tore down the idols, and rolled the cylinders out to the edge of the steps. Three men could barely move one of them, so massive and solid were they.
Soon the whole dozen stood poised on the edge, while the unsuspecting dacoits came onward with the confident determination of utterly exterminating the hated English.
Never was there a more dreadful surprise, a more terrible reception. As they arrived within twenty steps of the top, calmly prepared and ready for the rifle fire which they expected as a matter of course, Guy quietly gave the signal, and a great stone cylinder, a veritable Juggernaut, vaulted noiselessly over the edge. It slipped with a gentle clatter down the first two or three steps, left its imprint on the bodies that lay in the way, and then settled down to a swift velocity that sounded like a peal of distant thunder.
It hurled itself on the foe like an enraged monster -- a monster that turns on the hand that gave it birth, and the sickening crash was plainly heard above the shrieks of its victims. The awful thud was repeated again and again, as it swept its passageway clear, and then, its momentum checked, it settled down somewhere in the midst of the panic-stricken foe.
Guy hesitated. This slaughter was horrible to him, and he would gladly have ended it; but it was their lives, or the lives of his men, and as the dacoits, in their fanatical desperation, made a fresh rush forward, two more stone pillars were rolled off the verge, side by side.
The scene that followed defies description. The two monsters filled the passageway, and though the foe made a rush to both sides, dozens of them were hurled right and left, and after a short silence, as the pillars bounded over something softer than stone or granite, the roar and rumble rang out again, and then two sullen splashes in the river far below told that the terrible missiles had made a through trip this time.
Some dacoits indeed crept forward along the coping, and were picked off with rifles, but the mass of the foe had seen enough fighting to last them a lifetime; and in a fearful state of panic and alarm they went down the steps as though the pagoda itself was rolling and tumbling in hot pursuit behind them.
Unable to restrain their feelings, the soldiers shouted again and again, and Forbes and Chutney, not knowing what else to do clasped hands warmly.
"Great Caesar!" cried Terril suddenly. "Just look over there!" and he pointed eagerly across the river.
A lurid glare lit up the sky in the direction of the town. Showers of sparks rose at intervals, and tongues of flame darted up. Then came the steady rattle of a Gardiner gun and a burst of rifle fire.
"The fiends have fired the town," said Melton, in a tone that chilled his listeners with horror. "And Cubit is now fighting his way out," he added. "Some one must go for assistance at once, or the poor fellows will be butchered to a man."
No one volunteered for duty; in fact none saw their way clear, and a dread silence followed Melton's words.
Then came an answer from an unexpected source, during all the dreadful events of the evening, while the fighting was at its worst, Dalo had calmly occupied a seat in the doorway of the pagoda, watching with a solicitous and anxious eye that no harm came to his master. Now he rose noiselessly and came forward.
"I will go down to meet the other boat, sahibs," he said quietly.
"You!" cried Chutney in amazement. "How can you do it, Dalo?" The Indian pointed to the largest idol of the group, which had been torn from its pedestal and lay prostrate on the stone floor. It was a truly horrible image, roughly carved from some kind of wood.
"I can go on that, sahib. It will float very easily."
"But the crocodiles?" said Chutney.
"There are but few in the river," replied the Indian calmly, and he fingered a long knife that hung in a sheath at his side.
While Dalo was speaking, Forbes watched him keenly. A struggle was going on within him to know whether this man was above suspicion or whether there was any good reason for mistrusting him.
Since the murder of Hassam he had struggled against this growing aversion, for which there really existed no cause; but he could not quite rid his mind of it.
"You are a brave fellow, Dalo," he said. "I will go with you. The idol will easily carry two." He turned his gaze full on the Indian's face, but it remained calm and impassive. Not a muscle quivered.
"If the sahib wishes," he said simply. "It will be better so. Two can go faster than one, and there is great need of haste."
"By Jove," put in Chutney, "You fellows shall not risk your lives in this way. It is madness."
Forbes made no reply. He was stripping off some of his heavier clothing, and stowing his loaded revolvers in the bosom of his jacket.
Dalo stripped off his loose linen and stood erect in waistcloth and turban, a wonderful specimen of athletic manhood.
"Now, then, Chutney, I want those scoundrels cleared off the bottom of the rock," said Forbes.
"They are going now," Guy answered; and in fact two or three rafts were making their way up the river, as was seen by the moving torches.
"They are not all gone yet," said Forbes, and he sent another stone cylinder rolling down.
The remaining dacoits at the bottom, warned in time, got out of the way, and the stone plunged into the river. They had no desire to linger any longer on the rock, and a man whom Chutney sent down returned presently and said that the place was deserted.
No further attempt was made to dissuade Forbes and Dalo. It was better for two men to run perilous risks than to let Cubit and his brave detachment be cut to pieces, though the chances were ten to one against reaching him in time.
Half a dozen men carefully took the idol down the steps, and, with a brief farewell, Melton and Dalo hastened down after it to the bottom.
Very noiselessly they each straddled an end, and with gilded shingles from the pagoda roof, paddled down the river, cutting across so as to avoid the vortex of the whirlpool.
Once below the rock, they struck into the center of the stream where they were caught in the turbulent waters of the creek, and in a very few minutes the light that twinkled in the pagoda was lost to view, though they could still hear a straggling fire from the town.
The Chindwin was a quarter of a mile wide, and dotted quite frequently with little islands. Dalo sat on the neck of the idol, and Forbes some distance behind him. It was no longer necessary to paddle, for the current was swift and strong.
They had gone at least two miles, and still they saw no trace of the steamer. The moon was gradually coming up, and the banks of the river were in plain view, so that they could not miss the boat even if she was moored to the shore.
That was improbable, however, for at night the steamers were always anchored well out in the stream to guard against an attack. Dalo's sharp eyes had been tried on many a similar occasion, while this was quite new work to Forbes, so when a brief streak of light appeared for a second far below, Dalo was the only one to observe it.
He made no sign, but merely continued to strain his eyes in that direction. The light did not appear again, and, after a moment's hesitation, the Indian, with a careful, stealthy movement, slipped his knife from its sheath, while his face assumed a very sinister and forbidding appearance.
Another interval of silence, then suddenly wheeling partly around and looking beyond Forbes up the river, he said in an excited whisper:
"Look, sahib, look! What is that?"
Thrown off his guard, and never for a moment suspecting treachery, Melton quickly turned and looked behind him. As he did so, quick as lightning, Dalo raised his arm, and with all his might, struck at Forbes with his long bladed knife.
He aimed directly for the back, but a sudden unperceived movement on Forbes's part diverted the blow, and the point of the knife descended with terrific force on the buckle of a shoulder strap that held Melton's water flask, and snapped off against the hard steel.
A little stunned, but fully comprehending what had happened, Melton turned like a flash.
"You infernal scoundrel!" he cried, "you would murder me as you slew Hassam, would you?" and jerking out his revolver he cocked it and pulled the trigger just as Dalo made a fierce plunge with the broken knife.
The loud report echoed over the water, and with a cry of pain the Indian threw up his arms and toppled off the edge of the log with a sullen splash, while Melton gave a shout of satisfaction.
He shouted a little too soon. The crafty Dalo was far from being a dead man, though he came within an ace of it (Melton's bullet having gone through his arm above the elbow without touching the bone), and the instant he struck the water in his cleverly managed fall, he turned over and dived straight down, so that while Melton was peering ahead in his search for the body, Dalo shot quietly to the surface behind.
He still retained his hold on the broken knife. The blade was useless, but the hilt was of hard and polished metal, and taking the blade between his fingers regardless of its sharp edge he made two or three noiseless strokes that brought him to the edge of the log. Then lifting himself partly up with one hand, with the other he brought the heavy handle of the knife down on Melton's head with crushing force.
Without a groan Forbes rolled off into the water, and Dalo, not even glancing towards his victim, coolly pulled himself to the log and floated down the river.
Now that the crime was over the Indian actually appeared sorry, for a look of penitence appeared on his features, and he muttered half aloud, "That sahib was a brave man. I liked not to kill him," and then turned his attention to his wounded arm.
A fold of linen from his turban was converted into a neat bandage. The knife blade had cut his finger severely, and to stop the bleeding he trailed his hand in the water for a little while and then tied it up also.
The idol drifted slowly along, for the river was now running sluggishly, and winding among numerous small islands. Dalo made no attempt to hasten its speed, but balanced himself very coolly on the log, keeping a sharp lookout ahead as he neared the bend of the river.
It was a very long and sweeping curve, and as the Indian on his strange raft reached the apex, and saw the clear open stretch before him, marked by the silvery trail of the moon, he gave a start, for directly in the center of the channel and barely half a mile below him lay the black hull of the other steamer, swaying to and fro in the wavy reflection of the lanterns that dangled from the upper deck.
His first action was a strange one. With a quick movement of his hands and feet he checked the progress of the idol. One thing was now evident, in connection with the cold-blooded murder of Forbes, Dalo's object was to prevent the message for assistance from reaching the steamer. No other cause could well exist for the crime, yet what could be Dalo's object in cutting off communication?
He checked the progress entirety, and after a long and close scrutiny of the steamer he slowly paddled toward the shore.
He was revolving in his mind a very strange problem, something that perplexed him greatly. It was now drawing very close to morning. He could still hear distinctly on the clear night air the dull sounds of firing from the town, yet in plain earshot of those ominous sounds the steamer lay calm and motionless on her anchors, and to all appearances no one was stirring aboard. It was too much for his understanding. It baffled him completely. He ran the idol under the bank and pulling it partly ashore sat down on a big stone. A breeze was beginning to stir, and the Indian shivered with cold. Then he walked briskly up and down, but that seemed to have no effect, for finally he straddled the raft again, and paddled rapidly down the river. His mind was plainly made up, for with no hesitation or delay he kept right on until within a few yards of the steamer.
Then the sentry's challenge rang out sharply ; "Who's there? Speak or I'll fire."
"A message from Colonel Cubit," Dalo said briefly, and with a couple of dexterous turns of the paddle he ran under the bow, and abandoning the idol to float where it chose, he pulled himself into the chains and thence to the deck. The sentry started back in wonder. He was a tall bronzed Sepoy, and instead of the Englishmen he had expected to see, here was one of his own race.
Dalo had only time to note that the deck was nearly empty, save for two or three soldiers, when a young English officer came forward, and eagerly inquired what news he brought.
"It is bad, sahib," said Dalo, saluting. "There is fighting in the town, and the English troops are in danger. Two hours ago I came from Balet alone: with an English sahib. His name was Forbes. A mile from here the dacoits came out in a boat, and the Englishman was killed. I myself was shot in the arm, as you see, and my hand was cut with a knife, but I escaped by swimming, and found the log again. But there dare be no delay, sahib, for the English --"
The officer interrupted him with a short laugh.
"Did you suppose we would lie here idle in hearing of all that firing? Our whole force is at Balet by this time, I hope. You see the river bends in a half circle, and just a mile or two across the forest lies the town," and he pointed over towards the shore. "Luckily we had a man aboard who knew the short cut, and he offered to lead the party. They have gone in force, elephant battery and all, and if Cubit is in danger they will soon turn the scale. But you are a brave fellow to come down here on such a perilous journey. Go below and get some clothes, and then come up again. I want to see you."
The officer turned away to give some orders to the sentry, and with an inscrutable look of gloom on his dark features Dalo watched him for a second or two, then turned and went below.
Forbes had wisely interpreted the meaning of that burst of flame and the incessant firing. After a siege of some hours, the dacoits at last succeeded in applying the torch to the temple in which Cubit and his little army had taken refuge.
All attempts to extinguish the fire were vain. The roof was blazing in a dozen places, the flames licking the carved pillars about the door, and darting in and out of the little square windows.
A murmur rose from the men. Better to die fighting in the open air, if die they must, than to slowly roast to death in this awful trap.
Still the colonel hesitated, until the angry flames gave him no choice, and very reluctantly he gave orders for the abandonment of the place.
To emerge by the front entrance was out of the question, so, with heavy pillars from the interior, the rear walls of the temple were battered down. The stockade had already been destroyed, and the immediate space about it was clear, for the enemy were mainly gathered in front.
Through the drifting clouds of smoke the men marched forward, some few only with horses, for most of these had long since been abandoned, and had fallen into the enemy's hands.
They had gone but a few yards when a terrific yell, that was caught up and echoed from all sides apparently, burst from the dacoits, as they discovered the escape of their prey. A rush was made around both sides of the burning temple, and the foe were received with a hot raking fire from the Gardiner guns, which Cubit had stationed in the rear to cover the retreat.
He had hurried on meanwhile, and, as the hovering clouds of smoke were left behind, he saw by the red glare from the burning temple that they were in the open square of the town, a level space surrounded by irregular and straggling dacoit houses. It was rather long than square, and down at the farther end towered a large building of massive proportions, which might offer protection until the morning, which could not be far off now.
A hollow square was at once formed, in which were placed the few remaining horses, the guns which had hastened up from behind, and a dozen or more wounded soldiers, borne on rude stretchers. Then began the march down the square, a march which none of the survivors can ever forget. The bugle rang out clear and merrily in the brief silence that followed the start, and then from every corner of the square, from every house and window, from every possible point of cover, a hot fire was poured. Man after man dropped in the ranks. The hollow center was choked up with wounded, and yet no retaliation was possible, for the enemy kept well out of sight. The rifles blazed from all four sides of the square, but their only effect, as far as could be seen, was to form a dense cloud of smoke, which, however, possessed the advantage of making it difficult for the foe to aim correctly.
Bleeding, powder-stained, yet not despairing, the brave little army marched steadily forward, grimly bearing the dead and wounded with them.
The murderous fire showed no signs of abatement. If anything, it was increasing. The temple in the rear was now one mass of flames, and the whole square was as light as day.
The true character of the building they were approaching was now perceived. It was the private residence of some important personage, for the roof was a clustered mass of gayly decorated turrets and spires, with a gilded dome in the center.
A succession of spacious porticoes, with broad steps, surrounded the structure, and all was designed with truly Oriental splendor and taste.
Here was a refuge for a while at least. Help must soon come, the colonel thought, and all might be well yet.
As they drew close to the entrance and hurried forward in expectation of finding shelter, a murderous fire was poured into their very faces from every door and window. The enemy divining their purpose, had made a circuit and entered the building from the door.
A perfect panic ensued, and the column was thrown into utmost confusion. With great difficulty the colonel reduced the men to discipline, for the groans of the wounded had a demoralizing effect in the face of the leaden storm that was whistling around them.
The guns were hurried forward, and the front of the building was very soon cleared as the bullets pierced the thin bamboo walls and the mats of rice straw that screened the windows. Then a charge was made up the steps, and in an instant British and dacoits were struggling for possession.
It was an obstinate fight, and the soldiers forced their way in through every door and window, driving the enemy stubbornly at the point of the saber and gaining inch by inch until by sheer force of numbers the dacoits were tumbled out through the rear entrance, and the main body of hussars swept victoriously in at the front.
It was a short-lived conquest. The wretches had fired the house in a dozen places as they retreated, and the bamboo walls blazed with incredible rapidity, defying all attempts to extinguish the flames.
Dawn was breaking as Colonel Cubit led the remnant of his band from the burning building. The enemy now filled up the square, surging to and fro with wild shouts.
Only one avenue of escape lay open, and that was a long, narrow street, running at right angles to the square, at the end of which rose the sloping side of a mountain.
Bleeding from a dozen wounds, black and grimy with powder, his cap gone, his uniform stained and ragged, the intrepid colonel sprang to the head of his men with waving sword and led them down the narrow thoroughfare.
The foe at once fell furiously on their rear, and with such energy and in such numbers that the two guns actually fell into their hands, the gunners being compelled to abandon them to save their lives. A shout of triumph burst from a thousand throats at this unexpected victory, and a general rush was made from all sides.
The situation was now critical in the extreme.
The colonel perceived too late the trap he had entered. Behind were a thousand yelling demons, and now of a sudden the street in front was choked up by a swarming mass, who had circled around, while more dacoits appeared on the very housetops along the way.
The men were jammed helplessly between the walls, wounded, horses, and all.
Then from both ends of the street came a rattling musketry fire, showers of spears, stones actually torn up from the ground, and from roofs, doorways and windows, descended weapons and missiles of every description.
Every man seemed doomed, and as the dacoits realized the vengeance that was about to fall into their hands they raised their voices in one howl of barbarous triumph that fell like a death-knell on the ears of the despairing Englishmen.
The colonel, however, seemed to bear a charmed life. Around him men were falling thickly, but still he fought on, a fearful sight to see. A spear entered his thigh, a bullet broke his sword wrist, but he changed his weapon to the other hand, paying no attention to the sword thrust at all. Then a musket ball struck him on the head and he fell into the arms of those behind and was dragged out of reach of further harm.
The last minute had come. The sun, when it rose half an hour later, would fall only on dead Englishmen, for every man resolved to sell his life dearly and fight to the last. Lieutenant Sherston took the colonel's place, and as the last remaining cartridges had been fired, a cloud of smoke settled down over the horizon.
If they had only been able to get clear of the street, for, at intervals, over the heads of the foe, they could see the bamboo bridge that crossed the creek, and the slope of the mountain beyond.
Two thousand dacoits were pressing around them. Two thousand throats were swelling with triumphant howls, rifles were cracking, sabers flashing, and closer and closer settled the flying clouds of smoke. Five minutes more—but hark!
A peal like thunder bursts on the morning air. Through the shifting smoke is seen on the mountain side the glitter of steel, a gleam of red uniforms, a bugle blast echoes down through the town, drums rattle merrily, and then the thunder of artillery and the crash of cannon ball tell the struggling band that reinforcements have come at last.
The foe rush to the bridge, but too late. A twenty pounder sweeps the entrance clear, and then, with a cheer, the Bombay Native Infantry dash across with fixed bayonets, their swarthy faces set for the prey, while down the mountain and into the yellow waters of the creek plunge the elephants with artillery strapped on their backs, and their fierce trumpetings striking terror to the heart of the enemy.
The panic is fearful. With a ringing cheer, Cubit's little army, hurl themselves forward. The enemy, caught between two fires, drop everything and flee in wildest confusion. The main body rush down along the bank of the creek, when suddenly, from a thicket of trees and bushes along the water, a hot rifle fire is poured into their very faces and with cries of terror they turn and dash toward the town.
From out of the thicket struggles a little handful of men, led by no other than Captain Guy Chutney himself, and as he reaches the bridge, out from the narrow street as from the jaws of death, comes Sheraton with his rescued army, and as they clasp their grimy, powder-stained hands, a cheer bursts from the native troops.
There is much to be done. The sun is just seeping over the mountain top as the troops pour down the slope and into the town.
From all quarters comes the rattle of musketry, with the occasional boom of artillery, flame and smoke rise high from burning houses, and before the sun is an hour high the British flag floats above the square, and the foe are scattered over the mountain and forest.
By noon some appearance of order had been restored in the captured town.
Here and there curling wreaths of smoke hovered over the ashes of burned buildings. Soldiers hurried to and fro with stretchers, bearing wounded Englishmen to the row of bamboo houses on the south side of the square which had been utilized as a hospital, and where the surgeon was hard at work.
Happily more of the men had been wounded than killed, but the enemy had suffered terribly. The streets had been cleared, and only dark stains here and there remained to show what had taken place a few hours before.
Just off the square, in a little court shaded by palm trees, headquarters had been established, and from the dome floated the English flag.
Seated on a camp stool, with his back against the wall. [sic] Chutney was relating to an interested circle of auditors his adventures on the rock. Inside on a pile of blankets Carew and Terril were sleeping soundly. A momentary interruption was caused by half a dozen soldiers rushing through the square in pursuit of a dacoit, and then Guy resumed his recital.
"After Forbes and Dalo left," he said, "I hardly knew what to do. I hated to remain where I was, when all the time I could imagine you fellows at it hot and heavy, and could see the flames from the burning buildings. There was no danger of any further attack on the rock, I knew well. But the scoundrels got possession of the steamer and after taking all they could, they set it on fire, and we had to stay there and see it burn. Then we held a council and unanimously determined to make our way inland, and cast our lot in with yours, for there was still no sign of the other steamer. Two of our brave fellows actually swam up the river, after the blaze of the steamer had gone down, and returned with two of the enemy's rafts.
"In the meantime the dacoits had gone off to the town to help their friends, and putting our dead and wounded on board we succeeded in landing just above the mouth of the creek. Ten yards below and we would have been swallowed up in the whirlpool. Then we crept up under cover of the bushes, and while you fellows were penned up in that narrow street we were close by in hiding. The enemy were all around you, and would have cut us to pieces if we had ventured to come out. I can never tell you how I felt when Captain Buller came in sight on the mountains and his artillery began to crash into the town.
"We rather surprised those fellows that came rushing down on us in their flight. If they had but known how few we were they would probably have made quick work of us. They took us for a whole regiment at least," and Guy laughed at the recollection of their fright.
"But what a time you must have had, Buller," he added, turning to a middle-aged officer with a short mustache and imperial who sat beside him.
"I had, I assure you," said Buller. "It was an awful journey. Why, we actually had to cut our way in some places. Our guide assured us we could do the two miles in an hour. It took us just three hours. I was afraid we would be too late, and in fact there was not a minute to spare. You say your Indian servant and that man Forbes started down the river on an idol. I met Forbes a month or two ago at Rangoon. Took quite a fancy to him. He's such a coolheaded, reckless fellow. I suppose he's safe on board the steamer long ago. And how many men did you lose?"
"Two killed," replied Guy, "not counting the missing sentry. I have seven wounded in the hospital, though, including the fellow that was run over by the gun. He's better this morning, and by the way, Sherston, how is the colonel getting along?"
"Very well," said Sherston. "We can hardly keep him in bed. The bullet only grazed his head, but he has a broken wrist, and a couple of ugly spear holes in his legs. Quite enough to keep him quiet for a week or two. But who are these fellows coming across the square?"
"Why, that's Lieutenant Griffith, whom I left in charge of the steamer," said Captain Buller.
"Yes, and that's Dalo," added Guy. "But what is the matter with him? And by Jove, where is Forbes?"
Chutney rose to his feet as the little party came slowly across the square. Dalo's arm was hung in a sling, and he walked with his eyes fixed on the ground, with slow, hesitating steps.
"Where is Forbes, Dalo?" Guy cried in a ring[i]ng voice, as they entered the court.
"He is dead, sahib," said the Indian simply.
"Dead?" and Guy staggered back. "No, no, not dead, surely, Dalo."
The Indian looked him full in the eyes. "Yes, sahib, he is dead, and he died a brave man. We were a half mile below the rock when the dacoits came out in boats. We dived off the idol and swam in different directions, but Forbes they shot and then speared. They fired at me, but only struck my arm, and when I had swam out of reach I found the idol again as it floated along, and came at last to the steamer."
Guy listened to this recital with his face buried in his hands.
"You are a brave fellow, Dalo," he said huskily; and then forcing his way past Terril and Carew, who had been aroused on Dale's arrival, and who stood in the doorway listening to the story, he threw himself down inside on the pile of blankets.
The friendship that had existed between Melton and Guy had been much closer than any one imagined. Forbes's bright, cheery nature had endeared him to all, but Chutney had been his especial comrade, and many an evening they had spent in Guy's quarters, talking over old friends at home and discussing plans for future campaigns.
His death was a terrible blow, for Guy never thought of doubting Dalo's story in the least particular. He had perfect confidence in the Indian.
Meanwhile Dalo's dark eyes roved about him, and as he saw only too plainly that the town was completely in the hands of the British, a dark scowl overspread his features, followed by a look of restless anxiety. Muttering softly to himself, he crossed the square to the hospital, for his wounded arm had not been touched since the previous night.
A few moments later Chutney was roused by a commotion outside in the court, and, compelled to place duty before sorrow, he reluctantly fastened on his sword and went out.
Half a dozen native troops and hussars had brought in a prisoner, a tall, slim Chinaman, with his cue coiled on the back of his head, and one of the most villainous faces that Chinaman ever wore.
"This heathen was robbing the dead," explained the sergeant in charge of the party to Captain Buller. "He had dragged four soldiers into one of them little huts over in that narrow street where we were penned up last night, and he had 'em stripped stark naked, an' their clothes and wallybles all tied up in a big bundle. We just come along in the nick of time, sir."
This was one of the gravest offenses under military law, and Buller and Chutney held a short conversation, while the Chinaman, with his hands tied behind him, appeared to be the most unconcerned one in the party.
"Take him down to the end of the square and shoot him," said Buller. "And any more of the rascals you catch at that kind of work you can shoot on the spot. Don't come to headquarters with trifles of that sort."
"Come on, now, march!" cried the sergeant, clapping the prisoner on the back. "I've got your death warrant, you pigtailed, heathen Chinee."
A sudden gleam of terror came into the olive-colored face, and then down he plumped on his knees, pouring out a stream of supplications in a mixture of English and Chinese and shaking his manacled hands.
"Take him away," cried Buller, sternly, to whom such scenes had lost all power to be anything but tiresome.
Guy watched the poor wretch with a look of pity on his face. It was a very revolting spectacle to him, though the events of the last few days had done much to render him callous to bloodshed and suffering.
The sergeant pricked the wretch from behind with the point of a bayonet, but he only cried the louder and finally threw himself flat upon his face.
"Shall I do the business here, sir?" asked the sergeant, pulling out a long pistol.
Captain Buller made no reply, but Guy cried out in horror, " No, no, either take him away at once or release him."
"Release him?" cried the sergeant actually forgetting the respect due his superior officer in his indignation. "Release a warmint like that, sir! I'll -- Here, that's sensible like now," he added to the Chinaman, who had suddenly risen to his feet, but not with any intention of going peacefully along with his executioners, for he had detected the ring of pity in Guy's voice, and determined to make the most of it.
"Me speakee to Inglis officer," he said in tolerably plain English.
"In your mind you will," said the Sergeant. "Them guns will do some speakin' to you very shortly," and he jerked his thumb toward the glittering rifles in the hands of his men.
"Me speakee welly important," persisted the Chinaman. "Alle same loosee hands so me getee paper," and he held up his manacled wrists for Guy to see.
The sergeant was about to pounce on him, and drag him off by main force, but Guy stepped forward and said briefly:
"Untie the fellow's hands a moment."
Out of pure curiosity the other officers now came forward.
Guy hardly knew his own motive for ordering the fellow's hands to be unbound, but he watched him closely as the manacles were removed by the grumbling sergeant, who saw his chances for an execution growing slimmer.
The Chinaman's face lit up in an awful semblance of a smile.
He wore short trousers of greasy linen, and a dirty blouse, much bloodstained. He fumbled about in his garments for an instant, and then, with a start of recollection, put his hands to his head, and rapidly uncoiling his cue, took from it a dirty, greasy wad of paper, and stuck it in his mouth while he carefully refastened his pigtail. Then he calmly handed it to Guy.
"Takee allee same," he said with a smile.
Guy hastily stepped back and shook his head, while every one laughed.
The Chinaman, in no wise discomfited, proceeded with much caution to unroll his precious paper himself.
Fold after fold was duly straightened out, and finally with a flourish he tore the last flap wide open and held up to the eyes of his audience a badly used up copy of General Tokar's proclamation printed in Burmese characters.
"Look at the heathen's charm," said the sergeant scornfully. "Is it a love letter the warmint has got?"
"Lucky it was for the sergeant that all were at the moment too deeply engrossed to notice his impudence, which was due to the fact that he had already that day put himself outside of four bottles of Burmese rice beer discovered among the spoils.
"By Jove, where do you suppose he got that?" cried Buller.
Guy stepped up and put his finger on the paper.
" What about this?" he cried excitedly, his mind fired with a sudden idea.
"Me tellee you glick," said the Chinaman. "You no shootee me, will you? You givee me fifteen thousand rupees all the samee! Then me tellee what me do."
He paused and patted his breast proudly with his bands.
"Me one of Pandy's men," he added. "Me takee you where Pandy allee time lives."
"You will show us where Pandy is, will you?" exclaimed Guy, stammering with excitement, while Carew and Terril exchanged significant glances.
The Chinaman nodded, and looked around him anxiously.
"Me takee you; you no forget fifty tousand rupees?" he said, while his eyes sparkled with avarice.
"Just listen to him," said Buller, with a laugh. "Wants his life spared, and the whole of the reward, and ten to one he'll lead you on a wild-goose chase."
The impudent sergeant mistook Buller's laughter for a tacit consent to move along, and striding forward he roughly slapped the Chinaman on the back, exclaiming: "Time's up, old yellow face. Move along lively now."
Before he could say more, Chutney, who suddenly realized the sergeant's condition, turned on him sternly.
"You drunken idiot," he said, "be off at once! There will be nothing for you to do here today." And as the deeply injured sergeant walked off in high dudgeon to hunt for more beer, Guy beckoned the captive to follow him,
"I'll be responsible for the fellow," he said to Buller, and, followed by the delighted Chinaman, he entered the building and closed the door behind him.
The conference between the two was a long one, and a severe trial to the patience of the young officers, who smoked their cheroots on the benches outside.
Just as the mess bugle blew for supper, Chutney came out. He handed the Chinaman over to a guard, with instructions to watch him closely, and then he turned to Buller and said abruptly: "I want a fortnight's absence, and half a dozen picked men, Buller."
During Cubit's sickness, Buller, by virtue of his seniority, was in command of the forces, so that Guy was under the necessity of preferring his application to him.
Buller twisted his imperial in silence for a moment, and then answered hesitatingly :
"This is a bad time to get off; our force is none too large to hold the town in security. In fact you are too good an officer to spare. To tell the truth, Chutney, I ought to say no at once, for you want to go off on some mad expedition after that dacoit chief. You'll never come back, I'm afraid, for I don't like the looks of that Chinaman."
"I'm not afraid of him," said Guy. "His heart is set on the fifty thousand rupees."
"Well," continued Buller, "I see your heart is set on this thing, and candidly I wouldn't mind a little trip of that kind myself, if I was as young as you are. So get ready and go, but remember, I won't take any blame from Cubit. You know what Cubit would say to you."
Guy did know only too well, and he inwardly thanked his stars that he had not been compelled to go to Cubit for the desired permission. It was doubtful if he could have mustered up courage enough to ask it in that case, for he knew only too well what a reckless, foolhardy plan he had in his head -- a plan so perfectly insane that he did not like to think of it long at a time.
"Thank you, Buller," he said quietly; and then, without offering to impart any further information, he walked across the court to the mess room, where Dalo was busy with the supper preparations.
Carew and Terril were already there, and finally Buller and Lieutenant Sherston came in. The recent fight formed the sole topic of conversation during the progress of the meal, though Guy took little part in it. He was thinking of a bright, cheery face that used to sit opposite him, of the jovial, merry voice he loved to hear -- a voice he could never hear again.
He left the table early and sat down to write dispatches, for the steamer was going down the river that night, to return with more troops, as a general attack was shortly to be made on some other strongholds in the vicinity. It was dark when he joined Carew and Terril outside headquarters, and at a signal they accompanied him into the square.
The place was filled with stacked arms and glowing camp fires, for the native troops were quartered there. The town had settled down to perfect quiet and security, guarded on all sides by a double line of sentries.
Lights shone in the hospital, where the wounded tossed uneasily on their cots and at times a mounted trooper galloped past, bound on some flying errand.
They crossed the square, turned into the narrow street leading to the bridge, and came to a standstill in the center.
"Now," said Guy, in a very impressive tone, "our chance has come. That Chinaman is one of Pandy's own men, and for the amount of the reward he will lead us to the chief's stronghold. You know what the perils are. Will you accompany me?"
"Yes," exclaimed Carew and Terrill in one voice.
"Very good," said Guy. "Now here is what the Chinaman told me. He is very cautious about his information, and is terribly afraid that some of Pandy's men will discover his treachery. His name is Topee, and he has been a member of Pandy's own personal guard for five years. He says that Pandy keeps very close, and is seldom seen by his men, but lives shut up in a very curious retreat among rocks in a deep and almost unapproachable valley. This place is watched over by a select band of dacoits, and Topee himself was for a short time a member of this body guard. The place is three or four days journey from here, in what direction Topee will not say. He insists most positively that only half a dozen men shall accompany him, and I suppose he is right on that point. A larger force would be discovered at once. All the traveling must be done at night, too.
"He says, moreover, that Pandy's stronghold is filled with heaps and heaps of treasure of every kind, and he lays claim to part of that also if we are successful. He won't even divulge his plans, but he says it will not be a difficult matter to capture Pandy if we are very careful. To tell the truth, this Topee is an unscrupulous scoundrel, but in this case he can be trusted implicitly. He is greedy and avaricious, and will do his best to earn the fifty thousand rupees."
"By Jove, Chutney," exclaimed Carew, "are we to have the peril and the risk, and that heathen get the cash?"
"No," said Guy with a smile, "I would not have consented to that arrangement myself, but Topee says there is an inexhaustible treasure of gold and silver and precious stones in the chief's quarters. He tells me that Pandy once robbed a convoy bringing rubies from the mines at Mogok to the king at Mandalay, and that a chest of them is stored away some place. What a find that would be. There is only one part I don't like. Topee refuses to make any clear explanation until we are started, and he proposes that we begin the journey tomorrow night. I think myself that the sooner we start the better. But it's getting late," he added, looking at his watch. "We must go back. There is much to be done to night."
"By the way, Chutney did you ask the Chinaman if Pandy had any white captives?" Terril inquired, as they recrossed the square.
"Yes," said Guy reluctantly, "and the fellow winked his eye and said Pandy never makes prisoners. I can't get a word out of him concerning Pandy himself."
"Then poor Loyd has been butchered," said Terril bitterly. "But the fiend shall atone for it. I'll never rest until he has either been killed or delivered into the hands of the English, to suffer for his crimes."
"I too have a score to settle," said Guy, "for Melton's fate lies indirectly at his door."
They parted at headquarters, Carew and Terril going off to bed, for they had had but little sleep in the last two or three days, while Guy held a consultation with Captain Buller that lasted until after midnight. He then rode off to see that the sentries were all at their posts, for the enemy still lurked about the town, and the utmost watchfulness was necessary.
Early the following morning preparations for the expedition were quietly begun.
After some discussion it was decided that two of the hussars, Chauner and Wood, should accompany them, and also a native Indian who answered to the very aristocratic name of Solar Jung Hodai, but was commonly called Jung, and held a sergeant's commission in the Bombay Infantry.
He was a tall, black-bearded fellow, and was thoroughly conversant with the Burmese language. Chauner and Wood had both seen service in India and Egypt, and could be safely relied upon.
Forage bags were filled with provisions for a couple of days ahead. After that they must depend on the resources of the country.
Each man carried a repeating rifle, a large supply of ammunition, and a saber. Many other things that should have been taken along had to be abandoned because they must go on foot, the nature of the country rendering it impossible to make use of horses.
Dalo's arm was still sore and inflamed from the pistol shot, or Guy would have taken him along. He told him in the morning that he was going off on an expedition to be absent for several weeks, and gave him instructions to be acted upon during his absence.
The Indian said nothing, but meekly acquiesced in everything Guy told him, and expressed a devout wish that "Sahib Chutney" would return safe and sound, a wish which, as far as it went, was no doubt sincere on his part, for Dalo never forgot that he owed his life to his master.
It was on this account that he rendered him the devotion of a faithful servant, a fact which had excited the wonder of different persons, for Dalo was no low caste Hindoo. His features and general appearance, not to speak of his intelligence and education, placed him on a level with the native Indian aristocracy. He had been a professional beater for hunters when Guy found him in the Neilgherry Hills. Beyond that Chutney knew nothing of him.
About dusk all met at headquarters, and Topee was brought in from the guard house. He was provided with a pair of boots, and at his earnest request was given a rifle.
"It's time to start now," said Chutney. "Which direction are you going, Topee?"
The Chinaman threw his rifle over his shoulder.
"Come along me," he said, and he led the way out of the court and across the square, followed closely by the little band.
Buller called "goodbye" after them, and then they entered the narrow street on the other side, passed the sentry at the bridge, crossed that flimsy structure and turned up the creek, along a very rugged path that followed the foot of the mountain.
They traveled a quarter of a mile in silence, and then Topee suddenly stopped and crept down the bank to the edge of the creek. He fumbled in the bushes a little while, and then those above heard a noise as though something heavy was being dragged over the ground, followed by a splash in the waiter.
"Come along me," the Chinaman called up in a cautious voice, and making their way carefully down, they found Topee holding a long, narrow canoe which sat gracefully on the water, and would easily carry a dozen persons.
"Me hidee boat allee time," he explained. "This Sarawong Creek. We go up," and he began to count on his fingers, "one, two, three, four days' journey."
"Good," said Guy. "That beats traveling on foot," and setting the example, he stepped into the canoe, followed by Terril, and took his place in the front.
Carew sat in the other end, while Topee, Jung and the two hussars took the paddles, of which there were just four, and ranged themselves along the side.
Topee gave the signal, and with long, noiseless strokes they glided off into the gloom, receding farther and farther from the campfires glowing in the town below, and going deeper and deeper into the heart of the wilderness.
On the spot they had just left stood a motionless figure, straining its eyes into the darkness, and listening keenly till the dip of the paddles was lost in the rippling of the stream.
It is now time to go back to that dark night on the Chindwin, when Melton Forbes was felled from the idol by the hand of the treacherous Dalo. It was a hard and cruel blow, and Melton lost all consciousness as he sank under the surface, while the idol passed swiftly over him.
But strange as it may seem, there had been witnesses to the crime close at hand, much closer than the crafty Indian dreamed possible.
In a meager little patch of rushes and mud, but half a dozen yards' distance, lay two dacoits spies crouched at the water's edge. Harsh, savage-looking fellows they were, half-naked, and armed only with long spears that lay close at their side.
What their mission was there it is hard to say. They were most probably keeping a sharp watch on the steamer close below them. It is pretty certain, at all events, that they were out on no peaceful errand, for the rude canoe which lay concealed in the reeds behind them held no implements of fishing or of sport.
They saw the strange raft come sailing down the river; they even poised their spears once or twice in a hesitating manner, but quickly changed their minds at Melton's pistol shot.
They saw the short, brief struggle, allowed the assassin to glide unharmed past them, recognizing, no doubt, a more dangerous villain than themselves, and then, as his victim drifted near their retreat, hungry for possible plunder, they reached out and pulled the lifeless form to the shore.
With many expressions of delight they dragged the pistol from his bosom -- the other one had gone to the bottom long ago -- and presently they found a pocket flask of brandy which had been stowed away in a back pocket.
The cap was swollen and refused to unscrew, and while they were fumbling with it, to their utter fright and consternation, the supposed corpse groaned and sat upright.
Beyond a slight dizziness and a stinging headache, Melton was all right, but before he could realize the situation, his hands were tightly bound behind his back, and his captors fiercely motioned him to be silent. They jabbered away in a strange, outlandish tongue, pointing at times down the river in the direction of the steamer.
The disposal of their prisoner was evidently the object of their palaver, and for a while his fate hung in the balance. Then they came to an agreement of some kind and relapsed into silence and a close scrutiny of the river.
Forbes tried them with what little Burmese he could recall, but they only shook their heads, so he gave up the attempt to converse with them, and began to reflect on his chances for escape.
The prospect was poor indeed, for his captors were powerful, muscular fellows, and were armed in addition.
He wisely concluded to make the best of matters, for he saw that his life was in no immediate danger. The thought of Dalo maddened him, however.
His suspicions had been well-founded, after all. He was at a loss to know what was the object of the Indian's treachery. Doubtless he was leagued in some way with the dacoits, and was desirous of preventing the other steamer from advancing up the river.
It was indeed maddening to think that the scoundrel was no doubt by this time telling his carefully concocted tale on board the steamer. That was the reason it did not appear, and up in the town the intrepid colonel was making a desperate struggle for life, and on the rock Chutney was waiting for the expected succor.
Losing all control of himself at these reflections, Melton tugged fiercely at his fastenings and struggled to his feet, but was instantly dashed heavily to the ground, where he lay for a moment stunned.
It was actually growing light in the east now, a pale, dim glow that quivered feebly below the blackness of the night.
The dacoits listened with evident alarm to the continuous firing that now commenced up in the town, and at last forcing Melton into the canoe, they shoved off from the bar and paddled swiftly across the river.
They hid the canoe under some thick bushes, and then, putting Forbes between them, they entered the forest in single file, traveling on a narrow path that was but dimly discernible and at times appeared to vanish entirely.
With a sinking heart Melton realized that they were journeying due west, straight into the depths of the savage, unknown districts of Burma.
They moved at no leisurely pace, but took great strides, forcing Melton to keep up with them at the point of their spears.
Once their trail crossed what appeared to be a newly trampled road through the forest, running at right angles to their path. A large body of men had but recently passed over it, for the weeds and grass were trampled down, bamboo canes had been cut off close to the ground, and in the soft mud were seen great tracks as if some monstrous animals had gone by.
Strangely enough Melton never connected this with the march of the Bombay Infantry, though he had seen by this time what a bend the river made below the town.
He supposed instead that it was a march of the enemy to help take the town, and came to the conclusion that Cubit and his forces were lost beyond a doubt.
The dacoits made a critical examination of the strange marks, and promptly came to a conclusion that did not seem to bear out Melton's opinion, for with a hasty glance up and down, they dived into the forest again and continued their march with more haste than ever.
It was nearly sundown when they stopped along a small, shallow stream, and, hungry and exhausted, Melton was allowed to throw himself down under a tree. He was afraid at first that he would be compelled to go without supper, but one of the dacoits went off into the forest and presently came back with a half-a-dozen cocoanuts and a bunch of plantains, off which they made a hearty meal, untying Melton's hands for a little while, and then binding them again.
That night was a long and weary one, and Forbes got but little sleep. A fire was kindled for protection, and the dacoits took turns in keeping guard, for on all sides were heard the howlings and cries of various wild animals, and once an elephant trumpeted loudly some distance off in the forest.
Morning came at last with a cool, delicious breeze blowing through the trees from the purple mountains that seemed so close to them now, and after breakfasting on plantains the march was resumed. Melton realized that not the slightest hope of escape offered, and he accepted the situation with his usual philosophical calmness, comforted perhaps by the thought that if he ever came out of this scrape alive his fame as a war correspondent was assured.
He had a keen eye for the beautiful, and, in spite of his weariness, he enjoyed the scenery that lay around him. Towards noon they struck the mountains, crossing a low spur thickly grown with pine trees, and then ascending a higher peak, from the summit of which he could see a vast expanse of jungle and forest on all sides, its monotony broken only at one point by a faint curl of smoke stamped ever so faintly against the marvelous blue of the sky, and, as near as Melton could judge, off in the direction of Balet.
Descending the mountain, they entered a deep, narrow ravine which curled in and out for miles through the surrounding mountains, at times darkened by the rocky cliffs that nearly met over their heads, and then again bright and smiling with sunlight, while the mountains rolled to the foot of the valley in verdure crowned slopes.
They followed up the bed of a shallow mountain stream, wading its channel at places and leaping from rock to rock. Around them were birds of every description, deer rose before them and fled timorously up the mountain, and once they disturbed a tiger cat, sleeping in the shade of a great palm tree, a tawny, spotted animal that growled at them sullenly and then turned tail and disappeared in the forest.
About four o'clock in the afternoon they halted at the end of the gorge, further progress blocked by a steep wing of the mountain that had wedged itself right across the valley. The dacoits evidently intended scaling it before night, but they were a little weary themselves and sat down for a brief rest by the side of the stream just where it issued from a subterranean cavern in the face of the cliff.
With a view to passing the time profitably, they started in to unscrew the pocket flask of brandy, an undertaking which still baffled them, while Melton sat with his back against a tree, and laughed in spite of himself at their clumsy actions.
To tell the truth he felt no animosity toward them, for he realized fully that they had really saved his life, though unintentionally on their part.
For some reason the cap would not unscrew. Finally one of them discovered the metallic cup that fitted on the end, and under the impression that he had found the way to open it he gleefully turned the flask up and gingerly pulled the cup off only to find the contents as far from reach as ever. His companion uttered an exclamation of disgust, and snatching cup and flask from the other's hand he hit the cap a sharp blow and broke it clear off.
The next instant, to Melton's vexation, they were pouring his precious brandy down their throats. With no mean appreciation of its qualities they smacked their lips over it and continued to drink heartily, With no apparent intention of leaving any for next time.
A faint hope stole into Melton's heart that they might become so intoxicated as to give him a chance of escape, and in fact they did actually drain the flask to the last drop, washing it down with water from the stream.
The effect was speedy and startling. Their dark faces assumed a maudlin aspect that was simply horrible. They staggered visibly, and finally began to chatter in a very loud and excited manner. But Melton soon saw that they were verging on a dangerous state, and the next moment, while he was hesitating what course to pursue, they got into a dispute about the revolver and began to wrangle over it.
The larger man of the two gained possession of the weapon, and, in order to conciliate his companion, who was plainly in a fit of sulks, he said something to him, pointing toward Melton as he spoke. Whatever his words were, harmony was restored at once, and to Melton's horror both the wretches sprang on him, and in spite of his struggles fastened him securely to the tree against which he was leaning, with a belt of some untanned skin.
He but dimly comprehended their object, but he was not slow to learn it, for, drawing off a few paces, the wretches deliberately began to blaze away with the revolver trying to see how close they could come to his head without hitting it.
He made a desperate struggle as the first shot struck the tree, sending a shower of bark into his face, but the fastenings held tight. One bullet whizzed by his ear, another grazed his shoulder, sending a stinging thrill through him, and just as he was closing his eyes and uttering a silent prayer, the crack of a rifle rang out from the mountain side, and with a shrill cry of agony the fiend with the revolver sprang from his feet, clutched at the empty air, and then dropped in a lifeless heap among the rock.
His companion, a most horribly scared wretch, tried to flee, but his tottering limbs tangled him up, and with a succession of yells he toppled over the bank of the stream and plunged head foremost into a deep pool of ice cold water.
Down the mountain side holding his smoking rifle, came a tall, bronzed man, with a long beard and mustache. He wore high boots, a hunting suit of corduroy, and a soft felt hat.
With a stroke of his knife he severed Melton's bonds.
"Mighty close shave, my young fellow!" he exclaimed, in a bluff, cheery voice. "English or American, I reckon. But great Christopher, man, what are you doing in this part of the world?"
Too amazed to speak, but faintly recollecting a half dozen cards that he happened to have stored away in an inner pocket of his jacket, Melton produced a very damp and dingy piece of pasteboard, on which was inscribed his name and professional connection. This he handed to the cheery stranger.
"Ah," said the latter, "I am glad to meet you, Mr. Melton Forbes of the London Post. Pray allow me," and in a brisk, businesslike manner he extracted a card from the recesses of his coat and handed it to Melton, who, entering into the humor of the situation, accepted it with a bow, and read with the utmost surprise on the glazed surface :
|
MR. JOHN BOLTON, |
"A little surprised, are you?" said Mr. Bolton. "Well, I reckon it does sound queer in this part of the country. But it's a true bill, all the same, Mr. Melton Forbes, and Castle Bolton is no farther from here than three or four miles in a straight line. But hold on -- you look kind of faint. Just take a swallow of this," and he produced a flask similar to Melton's.
" Now then," he went on, "don't try to explain anything now, but just come along with me if you are able to walk and I'll show you how people can live in Burma."
Melton was feeling very dizzy and weak, but a few drops of brandy gave him a stimulus, and he declared himself ready and able to go on. In the meantime the other dacoit had slipped off into the jungle and could not be found.
With Bolton's assistance, Forbes reached the top of the mountain, and the two started off along the ridge in a southwesterly direction. Melton briefly gave an account of the events that had transpired, and the circumstances that brought him into such a savage part of the country, to all of which Bolton listened with interest.
"So the English are making a general raid up the Chindwin, are they?" he said. "I know nothing of that part of the country. There are dacoits enough in this neighborhood without going any farther.
"But they don't bother me any," he added significantly. "The fact is, there's a big chief has a nest back here in the mountains a few miles, and it is a kind of silent agreement between us that neither molest the other. You see, it's a hiding place for the dacoit leaders when the country gets too hot for them, and they don't care about having the place discovered, not that there is any danger of English soldiers marching into such a wilderness, though. They know I'm an American, too, and that makes a difference. If I were an Englishman now, whew! They would clean me out in no time. Of course I have no grudge against the dacoits. I don't love the English any too well myself. No offense to you, I hope, Mr. Forbes."
"Oh, no," said Melton laughingly. "But I can't begin to imagine what in the world you are doing in such a place as this. It seems as though I must be dreaming. Why it's just like a chapter from Jules Verne!"
"I reckon we'll see pretty soon now," said Mr. Bolton, with a mysterious smile. "It's not far any more. Still it will be pretty dark when we arrive, so, come to think of it, morning will be the best time to inspect the castle. You'll feel good and fresh then, after a night's rest."
Beyond these mysterious allusions, that fired Melton's curiosity to a high pitch, Mr. Bolton refused to go. They had now traveled two or three miles along the mountain ridge, with a view of the utmost grandeur spread out before them.
"A mile along the top yet," said Bolton, "and then down."
By the time the mile was traveled it was nearly twilight, and it was impossible to distinguish the valley beneath as they began to descend a slippery little path on the western side of the mountain. It was a wearisome journey, and Melton was quite worn out when they neared the bottom.
"Here we are, at last," cried Bolton, cheerily, and forcing the bushes aside, Melton walked out on a rocky ledge that actually jutted far out into the air, while beneath him, black and solemn with the mirrored reflections of the great mountains, lay a sheet of water, and directly opposite, outlined but dimly in the dusk of the night, loomed up an irregular, dark mass.
"There it lies," said Bolton, and putting his finger to his lips he gave a peculiar whistle. Instantly a light danced before Melton's astonished eyes, and Bolton pulled him back from the edge just as a long plank with a hand rail on one side swung out upon the rock and settled firmly in place.
"Come on, now, and catch hold of the rail," said Bolton, leading the way, and with a very curious sensation Melton crossed the shaking bridge, and was instantly ushered through a narrow gate in what seemed to be a high palisade. He crossed a spacious courtyard and followed Bolton through a dark doorway.
Some one else was coming on close behind.
"We'll have a light in a second," said Bolton ; and striking a match he lit a large lamp that blazed up brightly, and revealed to Melton's doubting eyes an astonishing spectacle.
He was standing in the center of a large room. The floor was carpeted with soft Burmese matting, the walls were plastered and hung with half a dozen neatly framed engravings beneath which were tacked some illustrations from Harper's Weekly.
Half a dozen chairs were scattered about the room, and on the table in the center, on which stood the lamp, there actually rested a little pile of neatly bound books and some loose magazines. The apartment was thoroughly cozy and comfortable, and Melton could with difficulty realize that this spot was in the very wildest and most inaccessible part of Burma, and hundreds of miles from the coast on one side and from Mandalay on the [other].
"Right nice place isn't it?" said Bolton. "But let me introduce you to my assistant. Mr. Forbes, this is Michael McGore."
Melton turned round more bewildered than ever, and shook hands warmly with a big red-faced Irishman, the man who had swung the bridge across for them. He was a large, powerful fellow, with a very genial cast of countenance, and he plainly showed his pleasure at meeting Melton, by the broad smile that lit up his features as he said:
"Mr. Forbes, I'm deloighted to welcome you to Castle Bolton."
"Now then, Mike," put in Bolton, "how about supper? I have no doubt Mr. Forbes is about starved."
"It's all ready an' waiting, sorr. I just put on a third plate."
"This way, Forbes," said Bolton, and following his host, Melton was ushered into a second apartment divided from the first by a heavy curtain. The walls were of planed boards, and in the corner stood a square table covered with a white cloth.
Its contents were a revelation to Melton.
The center was occupied by a great haunch of venison, a steaming coffee pot emitted a rich, fragrant odor, and beside it was actually a plate of hot biscuit, while the extra space was filled in with dishes of tempting fruits.
"This is my dining-room," explained Mr. Bolton during the progress of the meal, "and beyond the curtain lies the kitchen. Mike is a great hand at cooking."
This last fact Melton had already discovered for himself, as his ninth biscuit and third plate of venison testified. After supper a pipe or two was smoked in company with McGore, but as soon as a little clock on the mantel struck nine the Irishman rose and put on his belt.
"Time to make the rounds, is it, Mike?" said Bolton. "I reckon you can manage yourself tonight, as I have company, can't you?"
"Certainly, sorr, certainly; goodnight."
"Goodnight, Mike," said.Bolton. "See that the men are all in bed."
"All right, sorr, I will," and pulling the door shut, Mike departed with a lighted lantern.
Bolton laughed at Melton's look of mystification, but did not offer to enlighten him.
"You can look around the place in the morning," he said. "But I see you are sleepy and worn out. I will show you your room."
He lit a small lamp, and blowing out the large one opened another door that Melton had noticed, and ushered him into a small apartment furnished with a chair and a table, and a bunk built into the wall.
"This was formerly Mike's room," said Bolton. "But of late he has been compelled to sleep in the men's quarter. My own room is just next. Not a very big castle, is it? A one-story building and four rooms. But you see we can't well put up higher buildings in Burma. Terrible storms sweep down this valley every year. I hope you will sleep well. Don't be alarmed if you hear any strange noises."
With a cheery goodnight he went into his own room and shut the door, leaving Melton in a condition of actual bewilderment.
What could this well educated American be doing in this strange country? How did he get all these things here, and what strange kind of place was it he had come to across the swinging bridge? "Agent for Adolph Rich!" Who was Adolph Rich of New York, and what under the sun could he want with an agent in Burma?
No possible solution of the mystery presented itself, and finally Melton got into his soft, comfortable bed, and instantly fell asleep to dream over his strange experience.
He was wakened very suddenly during the night and sprang out of bed in alarm, forgetting the warning Bolton had given him. Close at hand somewhere was a great commotion. Angry cries and shouts rose on the night air, and then above the uproar he heard the Irishman cry loudly:
"At it again, you copper-colored hathens. I'll teach you a lesson," and as a whip cracked audibly on the air the shouts turned to cries of pain, and presently all was quiet again.
Melton went back to bed, wondering more than ever. No further alarms disturbed his rest, and at daybreak Bolton called him. He was still sleepy, but curiosity got the better of laziness, and he quickly rose and made his simple preparations for breakfast.
On his table stood a bowl of water a cake of soap and a towel. His one window opened on a very small courtyard that was inclosed with a strong palisade, not as he had supposed of bamboo, but built of heavy teak logs. Beyond he could only catch a glimpse of mountain peaks. He did not forget to give thanks for his wonderful deliverance twice over, and then he entered the sitting-room, as Bolton called it, where that individual was calmly reading what appeared to be a fresh morning paper. His host rose and shook hands with him. and then they entered the dining-room where McGore had prepared a tempting array.
There was a huge venison steak, a platter of crispy fried fish, a dish of grapes, coffee, biscuit, and a bowl of oatmeal.
McGore opened a can of condensed milk and handed it to Melton.
"Another scrimmage last night, Mike?" said Bolton.
"There was, sorr; but there won't be another for a while. The hathen with the jaw brakin' name got a taste of the whip he'll remember for a while."
"You mean Mombagole," said Bolton. " It's a pity the fellow has such a disposition to fight, for he's one of the best men on the place."
"It is, sorr," said Mike, "but he will do it. That wicked-lookin' knife of his comes out as quickly as I'd draw a shillaleh, sorr."
Bolton laughed and the Irishman winked across the table at Melton.
Finally Bolton pushed his chair slowly back and rose.
"If you are through your breakfast, Forbes," he said with an odd kind of smile, "I shall be happy to show you over the place."
Eager for the solution of the mystery, Melton sprang up and followed his host through the sitting-room and out into the little courtyard.
As he stepped outside he was startled to see a savage-looking fellow hurrying past him, bearing a big platter of raw meat.
Not a Burman evidently, for his skin was too dark, and he was clad only in a waistcloth. He had a string of beads about his neck, while his hair was drawn out and frizzled in the fashion of the South Sea Islanders.
Bolton paid no attention to him, but led the way to a gate in the palisade that was swung half open on its hinges.
As Melton reached the threshold he heard a most startling and awful noise, and rather timidly following Bolton through the gate, he stood still in amazement at the strangest sight he had ever seen.
Melton found himself standing in a large open space, somewhat octagonal in shape, which was hemmed in completely by a high stockade of teak logs the house with its own smaller stockade being a distinctive feature. On his right and left stood various smaller buildings of very rude construction but, directly before him, as he emerged from the gateway was the strange sight that had at first riveted his attention.
Ranged on low wheels along the stockade were a dozen very frail-looking cages, from which issued a succession of alarming sounds, while in front of them half a dozen of those same barbarous-looking savages that he had already seen, were moving about with hunks of raw meat on hooks which they thrust between the bars of the cages.
With amazement Melton moved forward and ventured to take a closer look. The first cage held a big, dingy-looking rhinoceros, who was prodding at the bars with his wicked looking horn. The next three contained very fine specimens of tigers, large, savage-looking brutes that howled ferociously as the keepers thrust in the raw meat.
Five Burmese tiger cats were next in line, beautiful little animals, who trotted gracefully around their cells and uttered growling protests when the keepers were not sufficiently liberal with the supply of meat.
"Now then, Forbes, come look at this," said Bolton, who was following him closely around, enjoying his amazement. Passing by two or three empty cages, he stopped before the last one in the line, and pointed triumphantly at a great black animal that was stretched full length across the floor.
The creature rose with a low growl as he perceived his visitors, and Melton hurriedly stepped back in alarm as he saw what a terrible beast it was that crouched on the other side of those thin bars. He was enormous in size, with a long, graceful body, a heavy tapering tail that dragged behind him as he walked, and his legs were simply wonderful in their massiveness and strength. His head was round with short ears, long whiskers, and eyes that gave to the brutal face an expression that was simply diabolical.
Melton shuddered as the wicked yellow orbs were turned full on him, and Bolton, observing this, said: "Not a very pleasant customer, is he? He's worth his weight in gold, pretty nearly, though. Do you know what it is?"
"Not the faintest idea," said Melton.
"Well, that's nothing more nor less than the black panther of Java, and how do you suppose he found his way to Burma? There never was one heard of outside of Java before, and even there they have become exceedingly scarce. We had a terrible time trapping this brute and getting him safely home. He killed one poor fellow for me, and badly crippled another. Don't be afraid. The bars are stronger than they look."
"But how in the world do you get these animals, and what do you do with them?" asked Melton.
Bolton laughed. "Oh, it's not so hard as it looks. You see those half-naked scamps yonder feeding the beasts. They don't belong to this part of the country. They came from farther down toward the coast. The Hill tribes of Chittagong, they're called. Not very pleasant-looking fellows, I'll admit, but they are good for the purpose. I have ten of them. They sleep in that long shed off to the left and just overhead is where McGore bunks. They get fighting so much at night that some one has got to be close at hand. But you were talking about the animals. You have heard of Adolph Rich of New York, haven't you? The dealer in wild beasts? Well, he sent me to Burma. It took a a long while to build this place, but it was well worth the trouble. We set our traps anywhere within ten miles and when we catch anything we take the cage after it. The horses over in that stable are trained especially for the purpose, and we have rough roads through the valley. Then about every three months we haul our catches to a point where two mountain streams unite and form the Kurnapuli River, and from there they are taken on flat boats down to the Bay of Bengal. It is nearly time now to make another trip. A convoy of men always come up from the coast with the flat boats, for the tribes along the river are very dangerous, and would make short work of the party if it was not sufficiently protected."
"But what water was that we crossed last night?" asked Melton.
"I'll show you in a minute. First take a look at this stockade. You see there's a platform runs along its whole length just high enough for a man to see over. Now observe those small cannon posted every dozen yards. They look out through loopholes, and would do good service in case of an attack. It's best to be on the safe side, for this place is in the very midst of the dacoits, and one can never tell what is going to happen. Now come this way."
He led Melton through the yard and into the small court again, where they ascended to the roof of the house by a ladder that Melton had not observed before.
"Look around you," said Bolton, and as Melton slowly turned his gaze from side to side he burst into an exclamation of astonishment and delight.
The castle was built on an island in the valley. On all sides was water, a calm blue sheet that stretched away to the base of the mountain on either hand. Up the valley the lake narrowed and was lost in the forest, while below it stretched across from mountain to mountain and seemed to be restricted by a barrier of some kind, while a low moaning sound could be heard faintly.
"Would you take this to be artificial?" asked Bolton.
"No," Melton replied in astonishment.
"Well, it is," said Bolton, laughing at his guest's amazement. "When I found this valley there was a strange, mound-shaped mass of rocks in the center, while the stream trickled along on the right. I saw at once what a place could be made of it, and all hands were set to work to construct a dam. It is a strong, solid one, too, and will stand any amount of pressure. The island was cleared and leveled and the house and stockade erected, and now the place is almost impregnable. I am perfectly contented here. I get books and papers from America every time the flat comes up, and of course I have plenty to do. The hunting is perfection, and there is fine fishing in the lake. That, swinging bridge is a clever little arrangement of Mike's. A rough road leads down the valley to the point to which the big flats are able to penetrate. It is a pretty good distance to haul the cages, about twenty-five miles. I have four good span of horses, though. You can see it keeps us all pretty active. It is no slight task to provide fresh meat for all these hungry animals, especially since the game is getting scarce in the immediate vicinity. And what is your opinion of Castle Bolton now?"
"I think it is the most remarkable place I ever saw," rejoined Melton, truthfully. "And I can never repay your hospitality. I could pass a month or two here most enjoyably, and I am very sorry that I am compelled to leave as soon as possible, for --"
"You are not going to leave," said Bolton abruptly. "It is impossible. How could you make your way back to the Chindwin now? And moreover, if things were in the condition you described, your friends have probably given up the expedition and gone back. And to attempt to go from here to Mandalay would be madness."
"But what am I to do then?" asked Melton.
"Stay here and be comfortable," was the reply. "I will send one of my men over toward Balet, and he will come back and tell you what condition things are in."
"But that's putting you to a terrible amount of trouble," said Melton.
"None at all, not a bit. So remember now, you are my guest, and my fish and game are at your disposal. I will see that a messenger goes off tonight."
"Could I send some letters along with him?" Melton inquired eagerly. "In case he should find any of the English there, you know?"
"Certainly. You had better go and prepare them now. You will find plenty of paper in the table drawer in the front room."
Melton thanked him and hurried off, resolved to lose no time, for the Post would relish a column or two of his adventures and his strange reception by Mr. Bolton. He worked briskly all the afternoon, and by evening had completed a long MS. for his paper, half a dozen letters for friends at home, and a very important missive for Chutney, giving a detailed account of Dalo's treachery.
A big, powerful-looking savage was singled out by Bolton, and just as it was growing dark he started off on his perilous journey with particular instructions and Melton's precious packet of letters concealed in his waistcloth.
They spent a very pleasant evening. This security, after all his recent peril, was delightful to Melton, and he listened with deep enjoyment to Bolton's tales of adventures that he had passed through in the course of his wandering life.
It was late when they finally turned in, and it seemed to Melton as though he had just closed his eyes when a commotion outside woke him up. He heard the Irishman's voice raised to a high pitch, and then the outer gate creaked on its posts. Pulling on his clothes hastily, he rushed outside, and to his surprise found that it was already dawn.
Bolton and McGore were standing in the open gateway, and across the narrow belt of waters on the projecting spur of rock stood three stalwart dacoits, holding up their hands in token of peace.
"Well, what is it?" asked Bolton.
"You have an Englishman there," said the leader of the party, a tall man with curved black mustaches. "He belongs to Pandou. His men captured him three days ago, but you killed one of them and have taken the Englishman. Pandou bids me to say that he will forgive you the murder, but he wants the Englishman and has sent us for him."
Melton listened to this speech, delivered in perfectly accented English, with the utmost astonishment, and could hardly convince himself that he had heard aright.
It was still too dark to see the speaker distinctly, but he appeared to be a dacoit like his companions.
Then Bolton answered slowly:
"The Englishman is my guest. Tell your master that I cannot give him up even at his bidding."
Melton breathed easier. He knew too well what it meant to be delivered over to Pandy's tender mercies.
An interval of silence while the dacoits conferred among themselves, and then the fellow went on:
"It is not well to be rash. Must we tell our chief that you refuse?"
"Tell your master my answer is no," said Bolton angrily, and he slammed the gate in their faces, and turning round j>perceived Melton.
"Ah, are you here?" he exclaimed.
"Yes, I heard all," said Melton. "I have placed you in a position of grave peril and I must leave at once."
"Indeed you won't," replied Bolton. "It is more impossible than ever now, and besides this is only a pretext for Pandy to open hostilities. The storm has been brewing for a long while. If they think they can take the castle let them try it. How is it, Mike?"
"So say I, sorr," responded Mike. "They'll find it like hitting their heads against a stone wall."
"Come in, Forbes," added Bolton, " I want some suggestions from you concerning a plan of defense, for really no one knows what this fiend Pandy is capable of doing."
"You think there is danger, then?" asked Melton.
"Danger? Well, it won't be the easiest task in the world to keep the wretches away from the castle," and with this very equivocal reply, Mr. Bolton led the way into the house just as the sun was coining slowly over the mountain.
Chutney and his little party moved swiftly up the creek, under the steady application of the four paddles. The Sarawong was narrow, very deep, and the current, augmented by many smaller streams that poured in from both sides, was swift and strong. Besides, there were at intervals dangerous rapids, a circuit of which had to be made with the canoe on foot.
Topee was perfectly acquainted with the stream; that was very evident.
They made very fair progress considering the obstacles in the way, and just as dawn was breaking they halted on the right bank, along the edge of a very dense bamboo jungle. With sharp knives a passage was cut through the reeds, and the boat was dragged into concealment, while Topee carefully destroyed all trace of their landing. He insisted on their remaining hidden all day, and would allow no fires to be lit, so provisions were eaten cold and washed down with creek water.
The Chinaman made frequent excursions to the water's edge, but the day passed off without alarm, and at sunset they prepared to resume the journey. Topee now redoubled his caution, and would not allow the faintest noise to be made; and when the second night was nearly over he hid his party securely in, a grove of palm trees, where they spent the day in a very wearisome manner.
There was nothing to do but talk and smoke, for no one could sleep much with the oppressive feeling of unknown danger that was hanging over them. Guy watched the Chinaman with a sharp eye, but was satisfied that the fellow meant no treachery, and was acting in perfect good faith.
The third night was a severe trial to all. The channel of the creek had become narrow, and they frequently grounded on sand bars and ledges of rock which compelled them to get out and wade.
They pressed on with untiring vigor, however, and actually made more progress than on the two previous nights, for when the first signs of dawn were seen, Topee steered the canoe to a little island that lay midway between the two jungle-grown banks, and from its sandy ridge pointed out to Guy a forest of mountain peaks that lay off to the west.
"We no travel more on creek now," he said. "See much big mountain. There where Pandy allee time lives."
Guy looked with deep interest at the great purple ridge that towered far above the surrounding mountains, and left a shadow of fear stealing over him as he thought what a fearfully risky and perilous enterprise was that on which he had embarked. Half a dozen men and a renegade Chinaman bearding in his den a monster at whose very name all Burma trembled.
He stood lost in thought while the boat was dragged up and concealed in the bushes, and then Topee touched him on the shoulder.
"Hidee glick," he said; "much dacoit on bank!"
Guy interpreted the Chinaman's warning too literally, and plumped down like a shot right into a nest of thorns.
He rose up wrathfully, while a broad grin overspread Topee's face. Fortunately Carew's summons to breakfast came at this juncture, and possible trouble for the Chinaman was avoided.
They still possessed a day's provisions, for they had been using their supplies frugally. The island on which they had taken refuge was fringed with thick bushes, and in the center was a sandy space shaded by a dozen or more palmyra trees.
After they had eaten breakfast, Chauner and Wood were placed on guard at the lower and upper point of the island, with instructions to keep a very close lookout. Then Guy insisted that Topee should give him some clear idea of the situation, so that a plan of action might be devised.
The Chinaman was very willing to do this, and began to explain eagerly, but his pigeon English became so unintelligible that Guy could make nothing out of it. He was at his wits' end to know what to do, when he suddenly recollected that Jung was a proficient in Burmese, and that Topee also was conversant with the language. That settled the trouble, and Jung started in at once on his duties as interpreter.
The two held a long conversation, interspersed with many gestures on the part of the Chinaman, and finally Jung traced in the sand with the point of his long knife a rude sketch of mountains, which Topee approved with a nod of his head.
"Now, sahib," said Jung, turning to Chutney, "Topee has made it clear, and I can show by this sketch what it is that we must do, but it is a plan that has many perils."
"Go ahead," said Guy briefly; and all listened intently as Jung began:
"The mountain, sahib, is distant from here about twenty miles, and the country that lies between is wild and desolate, with the exception of a rude path, used by the dacoits, near which we may on no account venture. Just opposite us the mountain makes a broad sweep inward toward the Sarawong Creek, forming a perfect half moon, and then pursues its intricate course again to the northwest. In the natural hollow thus formed, on the western side of the mountain, lies the fortress of the terrible Pandy."
"By Jove, does Topee think we are insane? Are we to march our little army over that mountain, and take the place by storm?" exclaimed Guy, looking angrily at the Chinaman, who was squatted on the ground beside Jung, with a shrewd smile on his features.
"Listen, sahib," Jung replied calmly, "and I will tell you more. Right here" -- and he pointed to a spot at the base of the mountain -- "is a natural tunnel that leads directly through to the crsecent [sic] shaped valley. Day and night the entrances are guarded on both sides by armed dacoits, who let no one pass. Now listen, and I will relate to you the most wonderful thing of all. This whole region many, many years ago, was ruled over by the great King Mogok, the same who owned the great ruby mines that bear his name, and the place is called to this day the Caverns of Mogok, because the mountain is as a honeycomb, full of tunnels and deep caves. The stronghold of the dacoit chief is in a great mass of rocks that rise up from the center of the valley, and it is approached by underground passages, all of which are constantly watched over and guarded by powerful dacoits."
"Why, this is worse and worse," cried Chutney. "The Rock of Gibraltar could be easier taken."
Jung held up a warning finger.
"Now listen, sahib. A year ago, when on duty in one of the chambers of this rock fortress, he by accident discovered a loose slab of stone in the side of the wall. He pulled it open, and there was revealed the entrance to a hidden cavern. He was eager with curiosity, and, taking a light, he entered it. It led him first downward, and then along a smooth, level passage, and, finally it wound upward, twisting and curving its tortuous coils among great rocks and heaps of loose stones. But he persevered, and finally was rewarded by a glimmer of light, and stepped into the open air. He was standing on the side of the mountain, not far from its base, and looking directly across he could see the top of the fortress, a quarter of a mile distant. The place is here, sahibs," and Jung pointed out a spot on his sand map.
"The exit from this cavern is in the midst of a very thorny jungle, which is infested with many and poisonous serpents, so that no man dare venture near the place. It lies on the northern wing of the crescent, and about a mile distant from the inside entrance to the tunnel. It is at the tunnel that this serpent infested jungle begins, and follows up the base of the mountain. The place about the fortress is quite open ground, with some palm trees here and there."
"And what is Topee's plan?" cried Guy, now ablaze with excitement at the new phase in the situation.
"It is this," said Jung. "If we can gain the outer entrance of this cavern unperceived, it will be no difficult matter to enter the heart of the fortress, seize the chief at the first opportunity, make our way out, and by a forced march reach the creek. Once there --"
"By Jove," broke out Chutney, unable to restrain himself, "the Chinaman is right. It is a brilliant plan."
"Hurrah for the treasure!" cried Carew.
"But listen, sahibs," continued Jung; " the difficult part is to reach the entrance to the cavern."
"Why how's that?" asked Chutney. "Is the mountain hard to climb?"
"Mountain welly bad," said Topee, joining in the discussion with an animated countenance. "Heap high up. Steep allee same like wall of house. No much hard come down, though. Lookee here," and Topee jerked from under his dirty blouse a long coil of thick rope, knotted at short intervals. "Habee rope, come down easy," he said.
"He means, as far as I can see, the mountain cannot be scaled from this side," said Guy.
"Yes, sahib," said Jung, "he told me it was a perpendicular cliff on this side that no one can cross over; but in coming down from the top by means of a rope we can drop from ledge to ledge."
"That's a pleasant prospect," said Carew. "I always get dizzy climbing round on high places."
"And how, then," asked Chutney, with a trace of vexation in his voice, "are we to overcome this serious obstacle and gain the mouth of the cavern, since the mountain cannot be crossed?"
"We go through tunnel allee same," spoke up Topee.
It was a full minute before any one could find breath to reply to this audacious assertion.
"What do you mean, Topee?" Guy asked. "You say the entrance is guarded by Pandy's men."
"Yep. Heap guard allee time outside. No many guard inside. We get past guard outside, then allee yight."
"And how can we get past the guard?" asked Guy.
"Allee yight; me habee welly good plan."
"Ask him to explain his plan to you, Jung," said Guy, who wanted as plain a statement of the facts as possible.
After a brief conversation with the Chinaman, Jung reported: "It is good, sahib. Tepee says there are but three or four guards at the entrance. When we reach there, which will be while it is yet dark, we will conceal ourselves close by, and Topee will approach them as a messenger bringing news from Balet. He will offer them something to drink from a flask, if you can spare him one, and while he draws them aside we must all slip into the tunnel. Then Topee will come after us as though he were bound to the chief with his tidings, and at the other end it is probable the guards will be sleeping, so that we may slip unperceived into the jungle."
"That ought to work," said Guy, thoughtfully. "What do you think, Jack?"
"It's the best that could be done," replied Carew. "It would never do to murder the guards, or even carry them off. They must be outwitted in some way, and Topee's plan is a good one. They all know him, of course."
"It sounds well," said Guy.
"Is it a long journey from here, Topee?"
The Chinaman shook his head.
"Not welly. Start allee same sundown. Two hour's fore daylight reach place."
"Very good," said Guy, "we will start at sunset tonight."
Guy had ample opportunity for reflection as the day passed on, and he had to admit to himself that the chances were terribly against them. It was a year since Topee had been inside the fortress, for of late he had simply been a member of one of the numerous dacoit bands residing at Balet when not off on a raid.
What changes might not have taken place since that time! The cavern perhaps had been discovered by others and was no longer a secret.
Then that passage of the tunnel! What unknown perils might lurk in hiding there?
It was too late to back out, however, nor indeed did Guy wish to do so. He was actuated by a stern sense of duty, for if the dacoit chief should turn out to be really Nana Sahib, the sacrifice of a hundred lives would not be too great a price to pay for the capture and punishment of the bloodstained instigator of the great mutiny.
Guy had stood beside the well at Lucknow, and thinking of this he felt nerved to do and dare anything.
The day passed quietly and without alarm, though it was certain the enemy were in the vicinity, and as the sun went slowly down, Guy began to prepare for the march.
Stout leggins were buckled on and the ammunition was divided round, with the exception of one box which Jung strapped on his back.
The water bottles were all filled, and then leaving a few things hidden on the island which could not well be taken along, they embarked in the canoe and paddled rapidly up the stream for probably a quarter of a mile.
"No mens come this way," said Topee as he landed them on the bank. "All go that a way," and he pointed down the creek toward Balet.
The canoe and paddles were hidden with unusual care, and covered over with soil and bushes, and then the march was begun, Topee at the head with a saber for lopping off refractory undergrowth, while Guy came close on his heels, the rest following in single file.
The danger was now from other sources than the dacoits. More than once slimy serpents hissed and wriggled from under their very feet, and the stout leggins alone saved the party from a terrible fate. It was by Topee's advice they had been brought along.
As the darkness settled down around them, the animals of the forest began to stir, and now a new peril menaced them. Shining eyes peered out from the thickets, and it looked as though they would be compelled to use their rifles, in which event the enemy would surely be warned of their approach. The brave Chinaman pushed ahead regardless of danger, until a tiger cat sprang suddenly on his breast, fastening its sharp claws in his shoulders.
Topee staggered back, unable to make any use of his saber, and in a moment more the wicked teeth would have fastened in his throat, but Guy, with a quick movement, pulled his revolver and shot the beast in the head.
A convulsive quiver and it fell lifeless to the ground, while Topee turned and knelt at Guy's feet.
"Me no forget, me no forget," he repeated over and over, until Guy made him rise.
The use of the revolver was an unfortunate thing, but Topee did not appear to regard it of much importance.
"No mens round this time night," he said, "all flaidee wild beast."
"But won't they hear it at the fortress?" asked Guy.
"No; too far 'way. Come long me now, glick," and Topee started off again, swinging his saber.
In spite of the impediments in the way, the party made surprisingly rapid progress, and in three hours from the start reached the base of the foothills that guarded the approach to the giant mountain ridge that lay beyond them.
A wide swamp skirted them and some difficulty was experienced in crossing, the men sinking at times nearly to their waists, while thorns and branches scratched their faces.
Once among the hills they found easier traveling, the ground was more open, and spongy moss covered the stones and soil. Four or five hilly ranges were crossed, and then they wound in and out through a deep, narrow valley.
It was one o'clock by Guy's watch when Topee led them out of the gorge, and wheeling abruptly round the base of a precipitous mountain spur, they saw before them a gently roiling plain, carpeted with waving grass, while beyond it and scarcely a mile distant, rose skyward a great frowning mountain wall, a gigantic barrier that stretched, palisade-like, in one unbroken line along the dusky horizon, while the moon, just coming up threw a silvery glow of splendor over the grisly rocks and gloomy recesses that marked the dizzy summit.
A little to the south could be seen the sweep that the mountain made when it curved outward, and in this direction Topee led the party across the plain, trampling down the long grass in front of him. The distance was much farther than it seemed, and it took a good hour of steady marching to reach the foot of the range. A low jungle skirted the base, and beyond the mountain rose in a succession' of ledges, on which grew stunted pines.
A short stop was made, and then Topee declared it was time to be off.
Chutney briefly enjoined the strictest silence and caution on his men, and then, with arms in readiness, he followed the Chinaman.
It was hard to realize that they were really so close to the home of the dreaded Pandy, for during the whole of the three days' journey not a trace of an enemy had been seen. It seemed as though they were penetrating a primeval forest that had never known the foot of man. The utter silence was oppressive. Not a leaf rustled. Then a dead limb cracked ever so slightly, and the Chinaman glided noiselessly back.
"Now come along me," he whispered to Guy. "Stoop head down. No dare breathe loud, see?"
Guy assured him that every possible precaution would be taken, and then, with a fast beating heart, he followed close behind Topee, crouching down and moving at a snail's pace through the undergrowth.
Topee's anxiety was well founded, for in less than five minutes they turned off from the thicket into a border of high jungle grass, and crept along the very edge of the mountain wall, which had suddenly become so steep that it made Guy dizzy to look upwards. A few yards more, and Topee, motioning the rest to lie down and remain quiet, led Guy forward a few paces with many signals of caution.
"Now see there," he whispered, parting the jungle grass with one hand so that Guy could look out.
The scene that met his gaze was indeed startling. A bit of open ground was before him, a cleared space in the jungle on which the moon fell softly, bringing into bold relief every stone and shrub, and shining broadly on the chalk white surface of the mountain wall, chalk white and shiny except for one place, a great black gloomy hole that pierced the cliff, like a monstrous ink stain on a snow-white sheet. All this Guy saw at a glance, and then he drew back with an irrepressible shudder as his eyes fell on a group in the foreground that he had not at first perceived.
Half sitting, half lying before the cavern entrance were three men. The moon fell full on their faces and glanced from the burnished arms that lay carelessly by their side.
One was a Chinaman, a fellow of huge stature, with brawny limbs that showed in bold proportions through the linen blouse that clung to him loosely. Ugly as was Topee, this man was ten times uglier, and Guy shivered as he looked on him.
"That fellow velly bad man," whispered Topee with much pride. "He Shere Ali."
Guy gazed at him with deeper interest. So this was really that fearful cutthroat, the one time dreaded pirate of the Yellow Sea who was now Pandy's right hand man.
The other two were native dacoits. Not the more civilized Burmans, but evidently, as their great size showed, savage fellows from the hill tribes, with dark, coffee-colored faces that were horribly repulsive, and in no wise improved by hideous purple scars that testified to many a desperate conflict. They were fitting types of the choice band, that Pandy kept constantly about him, and beyond the mountain were doubtless many more like them.
Guy watched them with a peculiar fascination. They were stretched out in lazy attitudes, chatting softly among themselves, and at times lapsing into excited gestures which suggested to Guy that they were discussing the recent capture of Balet.
Then Topee gently touched his arm.
"Listen," he said. "Givee me gin bottle."
Guy silently handed him his pocket flask.
"Now me go chin chin with dacoits. You bring men right here; no noise. Me takee dacoit in bush. Givee drink. When me hittee this and this," and he touched the flask against the metal cup, "then you slip in cavern glick."
"I understand," said Guy, briefly. "When you rattle the cup and the flask it will mean that it is safe to go into the tunnel."
"Yes, all right," responded Topee. "You know velly well. Me go now," and moving off from Guy a few paces, he purposely stepped on a dry branch or two and then broke through the jungle into the open.
The three dacoits were on their feet in an instant, arms in hand, but Topee spoke to them, holding up his hands and then stalked right into their midst. An animated conversation ensued, in which Topee seemed to be trying to answer all three at once. Twice he pointed to the jungle, and the alarming suspicion entered Guy's mind that perhaps the Chinaman was betraying them.
It was quietly dispelled, for pulling out the flask suddenly, Topee waved it aloft, an act which called forth an approving murmur from the dacoits.
What argument, cause or incentive Topee used to accomplish his purpose Guy never knew, but after a few emphatic words the three villainous looking dacoits followed him toward the thicket that lay on the opposite side of the cleared space.
Before they had reached the edge Guy hastened back and motioned the rest to follow him. He led them forward until they stood on the very verge of the jungle, and only a few yards distant from the black mouth of the tunnel. The dacoits had vanished in the thicket and all was strangely calm.
A full minute passed without a sound.
Then floating out on the night air came a sharp metallic ring twice repeated.
"That's the signal," said Guy, turning to his men. "Now for the cavern."
Carew and Terril darted quickly forward, outlined for an instant against the chalky white cliff, and then disappeared in the mouth of the cavern. Jung slipped in next and was instantly followed by Chauner and Wood.
Then Guy crept out from the cover of the jungle grass and hurried across the few intervening steps with feverish haste, for at any moment the guards might make their appearance. He had better have gone slowly and cautiously, for his foot caught in a low, trailing vine that grew along the cliff, and before he could realize what had happened he was hurled to the ground.
He remained half stunned a second or two, and then pulled himself hurriedly up, reaching for his rifle, which had fallen a yard away from him. As he stood erect and glanced toward the thicket before entering the cavern, he saw Topee emerge from the jungle, and close behind him came one of the powerful guards, a fact of which Topee was undoubtedly ignorant, for he made a hasty motion to Guy to slip into the cavern, and continued his own leisurely pace.
The sudden expression of fear and alarm of Guy's face, who now believed that all was lost, showed Topee that something was amiss. He wheeled around and saw the dacoit, who was watching Chutney with a somewhat similar expression.
The fellow was too much surprised to give the alarm, and before he could recover from his amazement it was too late, for, with a spring like a tiger, Topee bore him to the ground, clutching his throat with his brawny hands. Guy expected every second to see the two other dacoits appear, but from the sounds that now came from the jungle he comprehended that they were wrangling over the flask of brandy.
The fellow in Topee's clutches had probably had some suspicions of his own which had induced him to follow the Chinaman unperceived. He doubtless wished by this time that he had cast them to the winds, for he was in decidedly bad case, lying on the broad of his back with the Chinaman's weight on his breast, and his fingers closed on his windpipe.
The situation was critical all round. Guy hurried up to assist Topee, but the Chinaman motioned him back, and then soon put the dacoit out of sight and -- existence.
Then grasping Guy's arm, for he had failed to heed the Chinaman's warning, Topee sprang toward the cavern, dragging Chutney with him. They reached the security afforded by the darkness just in time, for the remaining two guards now made their appearance at the edge of the jungle, still disputing over the flask.
In a moment they would notice the absence of their comrade, and an investigation would very likely be commenced.
The tunnel in which the party now stood was from fifteen to twenty feet in height, and from eight to ten feet wide, with smooth stone walls that trickled with dampness and moisture.
The floor was seemingly of hard stone, and its polished condition testified to the passing back and forth of countless feet.
"Glick, now," whispered Topee. "No time lose."
Guy wondered if the passage had to be made in the darkness, but the Chinaman soon settled that question by producing from under his blouse the long knotted rope. He took the front end, and gave Guy the second grip, while the rest took hold at intervals of two feet apart.
"All yight," he said. "Come along me. Me know road velly well;" and grasping his end tightly he started off into the weird blackness of the cavern, a blackness that showed not a ray of light ahead.
Not a word was spoken as all turned and followed him. Guy realized, with a grave feeling, that the Rubicon was passed. There was no backward course possible now. It was imperative to go on.
Then his somber reflections gave way to a buoyancy of spirit that was new to him since the start of the expedition. All doubt and uncertainty was gone now. He was no longer harassed by a state of indecision, but must devote all his energy, all his ability, to lead the little band safely through their perils, and to accomplish a mission that had grown sacred in his eyes.
Presently he perceived that they were moving slightly upward, and about the time he reached this conclusion he became conscious of a faint red glow that danced before his eyes in the darkness. He gave it no second thought, though Topee came to a full halt, and then moved on more slowly.
It was only imagination, he supposed -- a strange effect produced by the intensity of the darkness.
But presently, to his amazement, the glow grew more vivid, and assumed a lighter and more glaring hue.
Topee quickened his steps without a word, and, as Guy hurried on behind him, a sight burst on their view that chilled them with horror.
They had reached the crest of a slight ridge in the tunnel and down the slope before them blazed a mass of torches that seemed to fill the cavern, radiating in glaring streaks of flame along the polished floor, and turning the grimy walls to sheets of glowing splendor.
"The dacoits are coming through the tunnel,'' cried Guy, and as those behind perceived this new danger they became almost panic-stricken, and would probably have fled back to the entrance. Guy was more clearheaded.
"Is there no place we can hide, Topee? " he asked anxiously. "Must we go back and throw up everything?"
The Chinaman passed his hand across his forehead.
"Yes," he cried suddenly, "me know hidee place. Come 'long me, glick," and starting off in his excitement he fairly pulled the rest after him.
Guy briefly explained Topee's object to the others, as they hurried down the slope directly toward the advancing body of the enemy, who fortunately were still some distance off, having probably just entered the cavern.
The Chinaman stuck closely to the right hand wall, running his hand over the damp surface, and all the time the waving torches were drawing perilously near.
"Can Topee have missed the place?" Guy thought, with a thrill of fear.
What a horrible thing it would be to be butchered in this stifling hole in the ground! He could make out the dark faces now, and the flickering yellow bars of light were almost at their feet. A moment more and discovery was certain.
Then came a low cry from the Chinaman, the flare of the oncoming torches actually revealed a dark hole in the wall and in confused haste all crowded into the unknown refuge.
"Stoop low," cried Chutney, who had bumped his head on the roof, and Topee whispered loudly.
"No talkee; no noise, hidee face."
This warning was literally followed, for each man threw himself flat on the slimy floor, crawling back close against the wall, for they were in a very small apartment that seemed scarcely big enough to hold them.
The torches were by this time dancing about the entrance, and the tread of the advancing mass came plainly to their ears, although the sandaled feet made little sound on the polished floor.
The Chinaman lay motionless, his face buried in his hands, but Guy ventured to look up as the strange procession passed.
Three or four half naked fellows came first, bearing the flaring torches, and Guy felt sure his party would be discovered, for the light shone directly in upon them. He scarcely ventured to breathe, but watched the strange sight with a serpent-like fascination.
The main body of the enemy came next, and such a group of men Guy had never seen before. They were of mixed nationalities, comprising Burmans, Shans from the Karen Hills, and a sprinkling of villainous-faced Chinese. All were men of great stature and strength, most of them hideous with scars. They carried guns, and some bore in addition long spears and swords. There were in all two or three dozen, and they passed by with a quick, noiseless tread, followed by half a dozen more torch bearers who brought up the rear. Strange to say, not a man glanced to right or left. All kept their eyes fixed gloomily ahead.
A brief silence followed their passage, and then Guy rose and slipped out to the entrance. The lights were just vanishing over the crest of the ridge.
"What does all that mean?" asked Carew, coming forward and talking in tremulous tones. "It must be an expedition of some kind, Chutney!"
"That's what it is," said Guy. "They are out on some mischief, you may be sure. But, by Jove, I wonder if Pandy was in that party!" he added in sudden alarm.
"Pandy no there," spoke up Topee in the darkness. "He no go such way. Shere Ali say mens go punish whitee fellow name Bolton. Me no tink they come soon like this."
"How is that?" asked Guy. "They are going to punish a man named Bolton, you say, Topee. There are no white men in this part of the country."
Topee tried to explain, but became somewhat muddled in the attempt, and Guy came to the conclusion that the Chinaman had assisted Shere Ali to drain the flask. The scoundrels no doubt were going off to lurk about the captured town. At all events that meant so many less dacoits to contend against, though how many still remained at home at the fortress was only a matter of conjecture.
At Topee's suggestion they now made their way out into the main tunnel again and took their places on the rope.
Then the Chinaman led off with a rapidity that showed his intention to make up for lost time, and proved him to be thoroughly acquainted with the passage, for he never flagged once, but pulled them on relentlessly.
They were nearly through now, and Topee enjoined strict silence, though Guy could see nothing ahead but the pitchy darkness. Presently a couple of stars, shining in a bit of moonlit sky, came in sight ahead, and Topee, bidding all remain where they were, hurried forward.
He was gone but a short time.
"Well, is the coast clear?" Guy asked impatiently.
"Coastee clear," replied Topee. "One mail's there. Big fellow. He sleepee tight."
"He is sleeping, is he? Then all will go well. Come in. Don't waste any time."
"Go slowee," cautioned the Chinaman. "Man wake easy."
It was but a short distance to the end of the tunnel, and leaving the men just inside the entrance Guy and Topee crept cautiously to the mouth.
It was with strange emotions that Guy gazed into that dreaded and mysterious little valley among the mountains. No white man had ever seen the place, none had ever trodden the stone floor of the tunnel except as a prisoner in the hands of the dacoits, a prisoner destined to death in its most horrible forms. Many such had no doubt entered this valley, for the list of missing Englishmen was large. Guy's achievement was indeed remarkable, for the perils that surrounded them were of the most dreaded nature.
As yet he could see but little, nothing at all in fact, for the moon was low and the air thick with the gloom that precedes the dawn. His eye could trace the semicircular shape of the mountains, and could faintly distinguish something dark and irregular in the valley.
Topee roused him from his train of thought by a rap on the shoulder, and motioning him a step forward, he pointed at the figure of a sleeping man a few paces in front of the mouth. He was a big darkskinned fellow. His repose could not have been easy, for he tossed about, and once or twice opened his eyes.
"See there," whispered Topee. "Much dry limb on ground. Makee big noise. Man wake up. Me fix him. Me go in jungle off there," and he pointed to the left. "Then me call him. You go quick in jungle over there," and he motioned to the right.
"All right," said Guy, who understood Topee's plan perfectly. "Hurry up, though; it's getting daylight."
Topee pulled off his boots and crept past the sleeping guard. The fellow never stirred, and in a moment the Chinaman disappeared in the bushes, for the mouth of the cavern, while an open space surrounded it, was encircled by a fringe of thicket and jungle.
All was quiet for a full minute after Topee's disappearance. The guard turned over once and then slowly sat up, laying his hand on his gun and glancing toward the cavern.
Guy feared discovery, but just as the fellow was about to rise with the evident intention of approaching the tunnel, a strange whistle came from the jungle. It must have been a well known signal, for dropping his gun he made off into the thicket as fast as he could go.
Topee's ruse had succeeded admirably. The moment the dacoit vanished, Guy led his party out of the tunnel and plunged into the dense jungle that lay on the right, close to the mountain, and in fact continued up the slope, for on this side, as could be seen, the mountain made a very gradual descent and the slope was well wooded.
They penetrated well out of sight among the rocks, and after a short wait Topee made his appearance, having circled around immediately after making the signal. His features were twisted into a triumphant smile.
"Me foolee dacoit well. He no come back long while yet."
"Yes," said Guy. "That was cleverly done. And now what is the next step?"
"Waitee on daylight," answered Topee, pointing to the ground, "much serpent in jungle."
They had not long to wait, for the east was pale now, and presently the dawn came on rapidly, until the reflection of the sun was seen over the mountain behind them.
They moved off cautiously, keeping well up along the slope. Topee carried a heavy stick, and he soon had use for it.
The crevices of the rocks over which they were passing seemed to be alive with snakes, and great watchfulness was necessary to avoid being bitten. It was no wonder the dacoits shunned the jungle. To venture in with the low sandals they were accustomed to wear would mean certain death.
The serpents were of the most venomous kind, too, and Guy recognized among them the dreaded cobra, while Topee killed several little green snakes whose bite he assured Chutney was fatal in five minutes.
When they had gone a quarter of a mile they reached a small open glade along the base of the mountain.
A square-shaped rock was in the center, and mounting on this at Topee's suggestion, Guy obtained a perfect view of the little valley.
He could see the opposite wing of the crescent with its craggy summit, and there in plain view ran the long bristling mountain range which formed a barrier on the opposite side of the plain, and still beyond this were seen faintly the peaks of mountain after mountain, some of them on the very borders of Chittagong.
But directly before him, in the center of the hollow, lay the sight which had the chief fascination and held his gaze riveted -- a great irregular pile of gray stones, heaped up apparently in the wildest confusion. Only one thing denoted the presence of human life. From the topmost rock towered a slender pole, a pole that was fearful to behold, for from its summit floated a black flag, fluttering its waving folds in the clear morning breeze. It was a significant sight, that emblem of piracy, a sight of hatred to all mankind, polluting the purity of this lovely valley.
"What does that flag mean?" Guy asked.
The Chinaman climbed up and took a view for himself.
"Flag velly bad," was the reply. "It means dacoits go after Inglis."
"You mean that whenever they are out on a raid they float the black flag? "
The Chinaman nodded.
"When dacoit capture Inglis," he continued, "then Pandy makes big time. He hangs out red flag. Then peoples all come see Inglis die by torture."
Guy set his teeth hard.
"He tortures them, then, does he?"
"Yes," answered Topee with perfect calmness. "Hung up by thumbs, put oil on clothes, then settee on fire, and --"
The list of horrors was cut short, by a shout seemingly in the direction of the fortress. It was twice repeated and followed the report of a gun. Either the guards from beyond the mountains had discovered Topee's victim, and had hurried through the tunnel to alarm the fortress, or the fellow whom Topee had outwitted was raising a rumpus on his own account.
At all events it was plainly time to move, and leaving the glade, the party plunged once more into the jungle.
As they advanced it grew more dense and tangled, the thorn bushes and reeds had to be cut down and here and there on the face of the mountain were clusters of moss-grown rocks, many of them pierced by dark, gloomy holes. They were all caves, Topee told Guy; the valley was honeycombed with them, and the place was called the Caverns of Mogok because the people of that ancient king had formerly dwelt in them.
Topee led them on at a leisurely pace. There was no danger of an immediate pursuit, and the outcry had ceased long ago, leaving the little valley in perfect quiet. They were half a mile or more from the tunnel's mouth now and were well up the mountain slope. More than once the Chinaman stopped and looked around him, as though he had lost his bearings.
Finally he grasped a tall, ghostly pine tree with dead limbs, and whitened trunk, and at sight of this his face lit up and he turned off to the right into a thicker and more tangled part of the jungle.
Stooping low and keeping their eyes open for snakes, all followed his footsteps closely.
The Chinaman stopped before an obstructing mass of rock, and pulling aside a clump of bushes that grew on the face of it, a narrow opening was revealed, with a dim reflection of light in the distance. Topee plunged right into the darkness without an instant's hesitation.
Guy supposed this to be the cavern, but he soon saw his mistake, for after slipping down over the coarse stones the passage turned upward, and in a moment they emerged into the open air again.
On all sides were high rocks forming a circular apartment as it were, with the sky for a roof and soft turf for the floor. It was a natural little fortress Guy saw at a glance, and admirably adapted for defense if such an occasion of need ever presented itself.
With every appearance of satisfaction the Chinaman strode across the hollow to the opposite side, and placed his rifle carefully against the rock. Then with both hands he grasped a big slab of stone and pulling hard, it toppled over on the grass, laying bare a small square-shaped cavity from which issued a damp, cool draught of air.
"See," cried Topee with very pardonable pride. "That cavern takee right to Pandy's fortress."
All examined it with deep interest. It was so narrow that one man only could enter at a time, and even then he would have to stoop pretty low.
The passage led downward and appeared to widen considerably within.
Jung's sharp eyes detected a snake's slimy trail leading inside, and that put a temporary check on their eagerness to penetrate its mysteries.
Seated in a circle on the grass, they consumed the last vestige of their provisions. This added another serious aspect to the situation. How could they obtain food in this place? Their plans would have to be carried out speedily or else abandoned, and a retreat made over the mountain.
A council was held at once, and Jung's services as interpreter were called for, in order to get the fullest information in the least time. It appeared that the cavern was a quarter of a mile long, and that it had access to a disused apartment of the fortress which contained a supply of arms, and many trophies of Pandy's raids on the English and Burmans.
At the time of this wonderful discovery Topee had been assigned the place for a sleeping apartment, and it was during the night that he had followed the passage to the mountain side, and then retracing his steps, had put the stone cleverly back in its groove in the wall.
There was every reason to suppose that the cavern still remained a secret to the dacoits. The very next apartment, Topee declared, was Pandy's sleeping room.
Guy had to admit that the plan seemed very simple, and his head swam with visions of the glory and renown, not to speak of more substantial rewards, that awaited the man who made captive the robber chief.
And if the robber should really turn out to be the long lost Nana Sahib -- but at the thought Guy's brain grew dizzy, and he was only recalled to himself by the Chinaman's shrill voice asking for the candles that Chutney had stored away in the forage bag.
"Me go huntee serpent 'fore you come," he said. "You waitee here."
Guy gave him alighted candle, and taking his club, Topee slipped into the yawning mouth of the cavern.
The light moved about for a while side to side, as the Chinaman explored every corner for the audacious serpent. Then it abruptly disappeared, and all was darkness. Five minutes passed, and Guy was just thinking of going in after Topee, when that individual appeared at the mouth in a very muddy and disordered condition.
"Welly bad news," he cried with a ghastly countenance. "Heap roof fallee in. Big pile dirt and stone. No go past."
"Show me the place," said Guy, and lighting a candle for himself, he followed Topee into the cavern.
They passed through a large roomy space just inside, and then turned off into a narrow passage, with low ceilings and a damp, slippery floor.
Twenty feet beyond they came to a halt. Before them was a heap of rubbish completely blocking the passage. How far it extended could not be told. The rainy season had probably caused a cave in, and for the present access to the fortress was cut off.
Guy made his way back to the light.
The others were dumfounded at the disaster and were inclined to abandon the expedition and go back. Jung and Topee held out with Guy. They had some experience with caverns, and declared that the obstacles could be removed in a short time.
"We'll try it," said Chutney after some hesitation. "Let every man throw off his baggage and set to work. We will reach the fortress yet."
On the second day after the visit of Pandy's messengers, Castle Bolton was in a fitting state of defense.
The little brass cannons thrust their polished noses through every loophole in the stockade. The savages had all been armed, and, commanded by Mombagole, they strutted about proudly with their guns over their shoulders. The gate had been closed and barred and the drawbridge brought clear inside.
They had a plentiful supply of provisions on hand, though Bolton had little fears of a siege. He knew the dacoits too well to suppose that they would lurk about the place in case a furious onslaught should fail.
All depended on repelling their first attack, and Bolton felt reasonably confident of success', though he was harassed by one disadvantage. His little cannons commanded the shores, but could not well be turned on the foe if they once got under the walls in boats.
There was no danger of a sudden surprise, for two of the savages were on duty at a point up the valley, where the approach of the enemy could be easily discovered. Melton was really anxious to leave the castle, believing that he could reach the Chindwin in safety. He felt that Bolton was in serious peril on his account, and at times almost made up his mind to deliver himself up to Pandy on condition that no harm came to his host; but he never stuck to that determination long at a time.
It was early on Saturday morning that the dacoit messengers had paid their visit. Sunday was passed very quietly and with due regard to the day, for Bolton produced a well worn Bible, and read it with more earnestness, perhaps, than he had ever done before. It seemed as though imminent peril was hanging over them, and the night was a long and restless one.
Monday dawned without alarm, and the day wore on slowly. No word came from the spies up the valley, so it was reasonable to suppose that the enemy were yet distant.
Not for an instant did Bolton imagine that Pandy had given the affair up. He knew his nature too well for that. As evening approached, he grew uneasy about his spies. Well as he knew these savage dacoits, he had underestimated their cunning. Even while he stood on the stockade looking up the valley, the advance guard of the natives, premising Bolton's precaution, had circled round and caught the two spies in their own ambuscade, and now stark and cold they lay in the jungle, powerless to bring the news to Bolton that the foe had arrived.
Sunset came on grandly, and then faded away only a dull glow was left visible over the mountains, and still in the gloom Bolton and Forbes paced the stockade, unwilling to go inside. McGore, unperceived by the rest, was busy with a little scheme of his own. He had a keener sense of their peril than Bolton, and realized that the chances were decidedly against them. He worked on for an hour or more fumbling about the doors of the cages, and finally with a last inspection that was evidently highly satisfactory, he walked over to the house, entering by the rear gate and climbing in the back window, a strange proceeding that was unobserved by Bolton and Forbes. Then coming out by the front door, he joined them on the stockade.
The valley remained in deep silence, and for a wonder the beasts in the forest were all still, a fact which Bolton did not fail to observe.
McGore took up his position at the upper end of the stockade and refused to leave. The other points were guarded or were supposed to be guarded by the remaining five savages, who, being unaccustomed to this kind of warfare, walked awkwardly up and down the stockade platform.
Fully convinced that there was no danger of an attack that night, Bolton and Forbes went inside, and lighting their pipes, tried to settle down to a quiet evening. It was a failure. The very atmosphere seemed depressing, and the tobacco, instead of soothing, only made them more nervous. They tried to read, but finally threw down their books in despair.
"It's no use," said Bolton, "I feel as though something was going to happen."
"Those are just my sensations exactly," rejoined Forbes, with a yawn. "Shall we go outside? Anything is better than staying in here."
"Yes, here's a rifle for you," said Bolton, handing one to his guest and taking another off the hooks for himself.
They filled all their pockets with shells and hurried into the outer court. McGore met them half way.
"Come here," he said in a whisper, leading the way to the lower end of the island.
They cautiously mounted the platform and looked down the valley.
The darkness was intense. Sky and mountain blended in one black sheet, pierced with a few faintly glimmering stars that made a feeble reflection on the surface of the lake.
"I heard a noise a minute ago," whispered McGore. "Just listen now an' be quiet."
Sure enough, in a moment or two a dull, heavy sound repeated several times, came from down toward the end of the lake. It was no delusion, for all heard it distinctly.
"The divils have come," cried McGore. "Just like the sneakin' cowards to hunt in the darkness."
"Hush," commanded Bolton, holding up his hand, and as the Irishman ceased speaking, another sound came faintly to their ears, a low, hissing murmur that seemed to be all around them, and yet no place in particular.
They listened with growing wonder, and a chilling sense of indefinable fear. The sound grew louder and louder, swelling in volume till it seemed like the roar of a fast approaching storm, and then like a flash Forbes realized the cause of it.
The water was running out of the lake!
Bolton groaned, and McGore, only half convinced, tossed a paling from the palisade into the lake. It struck the water and was instantly whirled from sight. There was no room for doubt. The dacoits had broken a corner of the dam, and in half an hour the lake would be dry.
McGore was terribly angry, and running to the nearest loophole he turned the cannon down the lake, aiming as well as he could guess in the direction of the dam. He touched a match to the fuse, and as the heavy report thundered over the lake and died away in long repeated echoes, a cry of pain followed by a defiant shout told that the shot had not been thrown away.
"Good," shouted McGore. "That shot pasted somebody."
He would have hurried off and reloaded the cannon, but Bolton stopped him.
"It's no use firing again, Mike. You can't hit them in the darkness. That was only a chance shot."
"What are we going to do, then?" asked Mike.
"Nothing at present," was the brief reply, and in fact Bolton was nonplused himself. His fighting experience had been very little. He was a brave man and a good shot, but his prowess had been displayed chiefly in hunting wild animals, and now when he found himself in his present position, he was really at a loss to know just how to defend the Castle. It was a difficult place to hold with such a small force.
Forbes realized this perfectly, for he regarded himself in duty bound to conduct operations and give Bolton the benefit of what little military experience he possessed. Bolton was evidently waiting for him to devise some plan.
"How much water still remains in the lake?" he asked.
McGore climbed the stockade and dropped down to the rocky ledge outside.
"It's nearly out, sir," he shouted up in a moment. "We'll be surrounded by dry land in a few minutes."
It was just as Forbes had feared. Over the dry bed of the lake the foe could swarm around the Castle on all sides. Some action must be taken at once.
McGore promised to keep a lookout at the lower end. Mombagolo and his five savages were posted at different points along the stockade, and Bolton, at Forbes's suggestion, went off to put the house in fitting order for a siege in case they should be driven indoors.
It was a critical situation, and Forbes saw plainly that if the enemy had any kind of a force at all they would experience little trouble in taking the Castle.
During the next half hour all was quiet, and Forbes paced the circuit of the stockade, trying to peer into the gloom. The silence was suspicious. The rascals were not idle all this time.
Bolton returned presently and announced that the house was ready. The shutters were closed and barred and a large supply of ammunition was inside. They made a round of the stockade together, and at the lower end they found McGore pacing up and down in great wrath. This crafty style of warfare maddened him.
"If Oi could only git wan shot," he said, "Here Oi've been waitin' all this time and not a sign of the enemy yet."
"You'll see signs enough presently," said Forbes, " and when the storm does burst——"
"Who's coming now?" interrupted Bolton. "Why, it's Mombagolo."
The savage hurried up brandishing his rifle, and shaking his grizzled locks.
" Funny noise over there," he said, pointing one , hand toward the main gate. "Dacoits on shore mebbe. Better come see."
Leaving the intensely disgusted McGore at his post, Forbes hurried across the court, followed by Bolton and the savage.
They mounted the platform at the side of the gate. In the dry bed of the lake nothing could be seen; but directly across Forbes could faintly make out the spur of rock. He listened for a little while, but all was still, and he began to think Mombagolo had been mistaken. Under this impression he was about to start off on another round of inspection, when the savage held up his hand with a warning gesture.
Forbes heard this time a slight crackling in the bushes, and while he was straining his eyes to hear more [sic], without an instant's warning a great pine tree was hurled from the spur of the rock, and the upper end crashed down on the ledge that ran along outside the stockade, forming a natural bridge over which the enemy could cross.
Quick as it fell in place, a group of dusky forms sprang out on it, and were almost half way across before Forbes fully realized what had taken place.
Bolton shouted to summon assistance, and as the foremost man reached the center of the tree Forbes picked him off with his rifle and down he went into the dry bed of the lake. Bolton skillfully dropped the man behind, and McGore and the savage joining in on the next round, the advance of the enemy was partially checked, and they delivered a return fire from the rock that fortunately did no harm.
They were preparing for another rush, and Forbes saw that they would probably gain the ledge by simple force of numbers.
What was to be done? His recent experience told him only too well what they might expect if they fell into the power of these cruel-hearted wretches. And as far as his own case went, Melton could not but realize that the fact that he had once escaped from their clutches would add zest to the savage glee which would greet his recapture.
If the tree could only be dislodged, and as the thought entered his mind he nerved himself to a desperate determination. Springing down from the platform, he entered the house and seized an axe that he had seen standing in the corner.
Rushing out he unbarred the big gate before any one could move a finger to prevent him.
The flexible crest of the tree was rammed in the shape of a bow against the palisade, and bending down he began to hack with the axe at the point where the trunk touched the rocky ledge.
"Come back, come back!" Bolton cried excitedly, while the foe, struck dumb by such a daring act, made no move for a full minute, thus giving Forbes almost time to accomplish his object.
They then opened a straggling fire, and the bullets pattered on all sides of him. Clip! clip! clip! went the axe. One more blow and down went the tree with a crash, while Forbes, with a bullet in his arm, and the blood dripping from a graze on his cheek, fell back inside the court, and the gate was speedily shut and barred by McGore.
The dacoits poured another futile fire into the stockade. Then Bolton turned the cannon on the rock and the little brass monster spit out its charge with a roar, but with no visible effect. The foe were plainly preparing for some new move, and all waited with deep anxiety.
It was strange that in the excitement no thought was given to the other quarters of the stockade. All was centered on the point under attack.
And yet there was one not so heedless. Howsata, one of the savages, a sharp, keen fellow, who could scent danger afar off, slipped up the court unperceived. Poor fellow! he little knew he was going to his doom. Fate was stalking about in unexpected places that night, and as Howsata reached the extreme upper end of the court, the dread messenger fell on him so swiftly that he could utter but one sound, a wail of agony that chilled the watchers down at the gate with sudden fear.
Instinctively all realized what had happened, and as they strained their eyes into the gloom, a splitting of timber, followed by a loud crash, told that the stockade at the upper end was battered in.
"The dacoits have gained the courtyard. Into the house quick," cried Forbes, leaping off the platform.
A general rush was made, and none too soon, for the clatter of feet echoed from the court and a few stray shots were fired.
They gained the house and looked into each others' pale faces in the glare of the lamp. It was a clever trick on the part of the enemy, none could deny. The attack on the gate had been simply a ruse to attract general attention while all the while the main body of the foe was crossing to the point of the island.
"It was a close shave," said Forbes, wiping his face with one hand, while McGore bound up his wounded arm.
"Hark! There goes the palisade," cried Bolton.
He was right. The smaller stockade surrounding the house was driven inward on all sides with a crash and the house itself was almost at their mercy. Almost but not quite, for it had been built strongly and solidly, and with half a dozen determined men inside it would be no easy task to take it.
After the fall of the palisade came an interval of silence. Then of a sudden a wild rush was made, and guns and heavy weapons were battered against the door of the house.
Now beginning to realize the nature of the place, the dacoits left off the attack again, evidently to devise some new plan of action.
"They will soon smash in the doors if they get hold of those heavy teak logs from the palisade," said Forbes.
"That's just what they will do," added Bolton. "They are preparing for that now I have no doubt."
"Begorra, Oi've done a nice thing," cried McGore suddenly, and all turned to look at him as he stood by the window holding a bunch of cords in his hand.
"What is it?" asked Forbes.
"Why, Oi've shut the window on my strings."
"And can't you open it?"
"What, for them rascals to rush in? No indade," and turning to Forbes, McGore said in a whisper: "Mister Forbes, if you'll slip up on the roof an' tell me whin there's no one in front of the window Oi'll show you the biggest sight you ever seen."
Bolton laughed.
"What nonsense are you up to now?" he asked,
Mike shook his head.
"Wait an' see," he replied, laconically. "An' will you do it, Misther Forbes?" he continued, turning to Melton. "Just let me hist ye on the big table in the kitchen an' you can slip through the trapdoor like an eel."
Forbes's curiosity was aroused, and he assented to Mike's proposition. He knew there was little danger that he would be observed on the roof, for the night was dark.
McGore took him into the kitchen and made a high stand by putting one table on another. Forbes mounted this shaky structure and was able to reach the trapdoor overhead and shove it aside.
With a spring he pulled himself out upon the roof. It was barely ten yards to the edge overlooking the kitchen window, and crawling very cautiously he soon gained the desired position.
At first he could see nothing but the darkness, but as his eyes grew accustomed to it, he began to perceive objects dimly. There was the stockade, that long white streak, and in front was the row of cages. The beasts were all awake, and, scenting danger apparently, were uttering growls from time to time, while the rhinoceros, to judge from the noise seemed to be prodding at the bars.
The next thing Forbes observed was that the space in the rear of the house was absolutely empty. Not a dacoit was in sight. He was eager to crawl up to the front of the building and try to learn something of their plans, but he knew McGore was waiting patiently, so he made his way back to the trap door and whispered down: "All right. Not a soul in sight."
"Stay where you are a second," said Mike, and presently he passed up on a pole a basket containing half a dozen hunks of raw and bloody meat.
"Sling them as far as you can into the yard," he directed, "and then look out for fun. But hold on," he added. "Oi have a better plan still. Here, take this stick," and he handed up a long pole with a hook on the end. "Now when Oi open the shutter you hold the pole down till Oi fasten the strings on to the hook, do you see?"
"Yes," Forbes whispered, and then he crawled back to the edge of the roof.
In a moment or two the shutters creaked slightly, and then parted slowly. Forbes held down the pole while Mike hastily fastened on the ends of the cords.
"Now pull up," he whispered, and Forbes drew the pole up to the roof.
Up to this point he had no idea what the Irishman was about, and he waited with curiosity for the denouement.
It took Mike but a moment to draw himself through the trap door to the roof, and he crawled over to Melton's side, dragging the basket of meat with him.
He was chuckling with satisfaction.
"What are you going to do?" asked Forbes.
"You'll see in a minute now. We'll stay up here and watch the whole circus. There's no danger at all," and half rising he tossed the meat, piece by piece, far out toward the cages.
The sound it made in falling, slight though it was, attracted the dacoits, and two dusky forms moved along the side of the house and out into the open court. They discovered one of the hunks of meat and bent over it in curiosity.
"Now," exclaimed Mike, in a low dramatic whisper, "the time has come."
He took the cords from Forbes, and singling one out, handed the rest back.
"Now watch," he said, and he gave the cord a strong, steady pull.
A faint creaking sound. That was all.
The two dacoits heard it and raised their heads.
Then came a low, snarling growl, and the watchers on the roof waited in breathless suspense. A long drawn wailing cry floated out on the night air, chilling their blood, and then like a catapult a dark mass bounded into the air, and with another horrible yell plumped right down upon the two startled dacoits.
It was the Black Panther of Java.
Human cries of agony mingled for a moment with the snarls of the beast, and as McGore had anticipated, the foe made a general rush toward the center of the courtyard; but brave as they were they did not dare venture near the scene of the conflict, simply contenting themselves with casting a few harmless spears.
The uproar was by this time terrific, for the beasts in the other cages were howling in rage and fear. Still McGore waited, leaving Forbes to hold the other cords.
One of the panther's victims succeeded in crawling away, and was dragged out of the reach by his comrades. The other was long since beyond all help.
Some one fired a shot, but it never touched the panther, and he kept on with his meal apparently undisturbed by the presence of so large an audience.
The dacoits forgot the attack on the house in this new excitement, and came forward intent on killing the brute, not daring, however, to venture near enough for the purpose. No one cared to wound him by a misdirected shot, and in the darkness accurate aim was impossible.
They had no suspicion of the real state of the case, but supposed the brute had broken his way out.
"Now give me the other cords," said McGore. "Here goes for the tigers," and he pulled the strings one after another.
The smell of the fresh meat had roused all of these animals' fierce instincts, and two of them bounded at once into the court and pounced down on the raw meat close beside the panther.
The amazed daeoits recoiled in fright, and a general movement was begun to the far end of the court.
It looked as though Mike's plan had met with full success already, but the Irishman was not yet satisfied. With the last cord he jerked open the door of the cage that held the rhinoceros.
Goliah, as Mike had named him, was a sullen, vicious brute, whose temper had been by no means sweetened by confinement. When he saw his bars slide slowly apart he raised his snout and sniffed the air. Perhaps he thought that open door was only a delusion, a dream that would vanish on close inspection.
He advanced toward it with a leisurely air.
No, it was no dream. The door was open. Goliah carefully put one foot on the ground and then another, and in a moment his whole bulk was out of the cage.
Then the full realization of freedom burst on him. The pure open air, the breeze blowing from the mountains, only reminded him of what he had been missing for the past few weeks. His short hair bristled with anger. His wicked horn went down. He snuffed the atmosphere. He scented the beasts and made a move in that direction.
Then the savage little eyes saw the moving figures of the men, his mortal enemies. He threw up his head with a defiant snort and dashed at a swift, clumsy gait right down the courtyard toward the moving body of the dacoits, who were quietly retreating toward the broken stockade by which they had entered.
The dark apparition bearing down on them was not at once perceived, though the clatter of the hoofs attracted their attention. When they fully realized what was coming it was too late. Their hasty efforts to scatter only tangled them up in worse confusion.
The enraged brute, with a blast like a steam whistle, plunged into their midst, hurling them to right and left, impaling the shrieking wretches on his sharp horn, and trampling them fiercely under foot. He plowed his way clear through, and turning with difficulty, charged on them a second time.
Howling with fear, the dacoits, plunged over the brink of the island into the bed of the lake, while Goliah, with a vindictive bellow, proceeded to wreak his vengeance on the bodies of his victims who lay about the court.
It was a terrible scene, and the watchers on the roof were horribly fascinated by the dim panorama that was revealed through the shadows.
"We've saved the castle," said McGore. "They'll not venture inside this courtyard again."
"But the animals are lost," said Forbes.
"No, they ain't," replied Mike. "We'll drive them back with red hot irons. But here comes Goliah again. Now look out for a time."
Well pleased with his raid on the dacoits, Goliah was now going to turn his attention to the animals who were still busy at the meats. Only two of the tigers had left their cages. The others, of a more cowardly disposition perhaps, had slunk back into their corners terrified by the uproar outside. McGore had not attached any cords to the cages containing the tiger cats. Those little creatures would only have scaled the stockade and made off.
The rhinoceros trotted slowly down the court, and as he drew near, veering from side to side in a very odd manner, it was seen that to had met with a curious mishap. A bronze shield had been impaled upon his horn directly through the center, and it rather impeded the brute's view.
Over the rim he caught a glimpse of the panther, crouching low, and without hesitation he charged on him. More by chance than design he steered a straight course, and the shield struck the brute and rolled him over and over on the ground.
He was on his feet in an instant, and wheeling about launched himself with a snarl of fury on Goliah's back, driving his sharp claws into the tough hide. Goliah screamed with rage and pain, and with a futile effort to shake off his tormentor, dashed down the court, rattling the shield over the stony ground.
During all this excitement Bolton had mounted to the roof and witnessed the whole affair, lost in admiration of McGore's cleverness. But now when Goliah dashed off in his flight he realized the importance of securing the animal again.
"Goliah will be lost! " he cried. "He will rush off the edge and get away."
They all made their way hurriedly down. McGore was ready for the emergency. He had a dozen iron prods heating in the kitchen fire. Half a dozen of these were fitted into iron tipped poles made for the purpose, and then, headed by Mike and Mombagolo, who was an expert in that line of work, they sallied out into the court.
Forbes hung in the background. It was one thing to fight dacoits, but quite a different affair to tackle wild animals with nothing more than heated irons.
It was a strange fact that in this new excitement the presence of the foe was for the moment forgotten.
When they reached the court Goliah had turned and was rushing back toward the upper end, the panther still clinging to his back. Bolton and McGore ran fearlessly to head him off, while Mombagolo and two savages guarded the rear, thus shutting Goliah in between them. No trace could be seen of the tigers. They had plainly made good their escape in the confusion.
As McGore poked the hissing, red iron into Goliah's face the panther, with a ferocious snarl, leaped off and rushing past Mombagolo vanished in the darkness. In visible fear Goliah retreated backward, but was brought up short by a stinging tap from Mombagolo. A little clever maneuvering turned him toward his cage and then, by dint of many manipulations with the irons, the surly brute was made to enter the door, so strong was his aversion to fire.
Bolton slid the fastenings in an instant, and then cried out:
"Bring hot irons. Quick now. I would not lose that Java panther for a king's ransom."
It was just at this juncture that Forbes woke up, as it were, to a keen sense of their peril. What madness for them all to be running about here unarmed, chasing a couple of brutes, when at their very gate lay an enemy ten times more cruel and relentless. Goliah had driven them from the court, but they were close at hand somewhere. Was it likely they would slink off like whipped curs leaving the dead and mangled bodies of their comrades to lie unavenged on the cold ground? Why at this very instant they might be pouring in at the central gate, and no one the wiser.
"This is madness!" he called out to Bolton in his excitement. "We are absolutely defenseless. Get to the house, quick."
Bolton hesitated. He hated to lose his precious panther, and yet common sense told him that Forbes was right. McGore dropped his gun and stood ready to run. Still Bolton waited in deep perplexity. That hesitation was fatal.
The silence was shattered by a crash, a falling of timber, and hastening toward them came the flying figure of Mombagolo brandishing a lighted lantern that Bolton had ordered to facilitate their search. No words were needed to tell the tale. It could plainly be read on the frightened, dusky face.
"The dacoits have smashed in the gate," Forbes said with amazing calmness, and in proof of his words a shot rang out from the house and Mombagolo staggered and fell to the ground.
Not a man of them was armed. The rifles lay on the table in the house.
"Run for your lives now," shouted Mike. "We can escape them yet."
McGore's advice was acted on promptly, and they made a simultaneous dash for the broken stockade at the lower end. Too late! A horde of dusky figures swarmed over the ledge and barred their progress, and when they turned towards the house again a wild shout told them that escape was cut off there too. Several of the savages made a rush for the stockade aud clambered over in frantic haste. The others would perhaps have imitated them, but a couple of agonizing cries, followed by dead silence, told their fate only too plainly.
"Why did they not fire and put an end to this suspense?" Forbes wondered, and then he remembered that he was destined to death by torture.
By the flickering gleams from poor Mombagolo's lantern that lay burning dimly on the ground, the angry faces were seen closing in around them. One big, burly fellow, the leader apparently, stepped ahead of the rest and cried out in a loud voice in perfect English, "Sahib Bolton, lay down your arms. You shall not be harmed."
"Do what you will," said Bolton bitterly, "we are defenseless. But bear this in mind. You shall pay dearly for this outrage."
The dacoit made no reply. It was impossible to see his features in the dim light, but something about his general outlines gave Forbes a thrill.
"We want the Englishman," the fellow added finally, and this time Forbes thought the voice was familiar.
Bolton made no reply, and as the dacoit turned to give some order to his men, the black panther, who had lain concealed all this time in the shadow of the house, pounced with an ugly snarl on the unfortunate man's breast, bearing him heavily to the ground. The brute hesitated in the very act of sinking his teeth in his throat, and startled by the presence of so many people glared about him.
The dacoits seemed horror-stricken and made no move to save their leader. They were afraid to fire, for they were just as likely to hit the man as the panther.
"Serves him right," hissed Bolton. "I hope the brute will strangle him."
McGore stood by holding a rope with a running noose, but made no attempt to use it.
"Hand me the rope," said Forbes. He snatched it from Mike's hand and sprang forward. The panther sunk his claws deeper into his victim's shoulder and raised his head with a snarl of protest.
Regardless of danger, Forbes sprang to his very side, and with a dexterous movement dropped the noose over his head. Bolton and McGore held the other end, and with a strong pull they jerked the half strangled brute far out into the court.
One of the savages ran up with a net and the beast was soon tangled hopelessly in its meshes, while a low murmur of approval burst from the foe in recognition of Forbes's daring. The dacoit pulled himself slowly to his feet.
Impelled by an irresistible curiosity Forbes picked up the lantern and strode up to him.
The light's gleam shone on the faces of both.
"Dalo!"
"Sahib Forbes!"
They cried out with one voice, and in mutual astonishment stood staring in each other's faces. The Indian was the more amazed of the two. He gravely put out his hand and touched Forbes's arm to assure himself that it was real flesh and blood.
"You hound, you lying, treacherous assassin!" cried Forbes in burning indignation.
The Indian made no reply to this other than a shrug of his shoulders.
"Your time will come, you black-hearted dog of a traitor," continued Forbes, growing more angry and hurling the lantern to the ground in his excitement.
Dalo turned abruptly away and made a sign to his men. They sprang on Forbes at once, and in an instant his arms were bound behind his back. He submitted very calmly.
Bolton and McGore had witnessed this strange scene in silence, expecting to receive the same treatment.
"Sahib Bolton," said Dalo, stepping toward them, "for the present you will not be harmed, though you have killed many brave men tonight. If you are wise and prudent you will leave this country forever. When we come back again no mercy will be shown."
Bolton made no reply until, he saw that the dacoits were really going to leave. Then he called out loudly, "Don't despair, Forbes. We'll save you yet."
"Goodbye, Bolton, Mike," Melton replied.
He would have said more, but his captors jerked him roughly forward, motioning him to silence.
Bolton started to follow, but was ordered back. A shrill whistle summoned all together, and paying no further attention to the Castle, the dacoits crossed by the bridge which had been swung into position and at once started along the edge of the valley in the darkness, and the last that Forbes ever saw of Castle Bolton was the faint glow of the lantern in the courtyard.
His captors were very surly and sullen, angered by their losses, no doubt, for half a dozen dead were left behind, victims to the bullets or Goliah's wrath.
Forbes was stationed in the center, while Dalo was somewhere on in front. The mystery connected with this Hindoo was deep and insoluble. Some secret tie bound him to the dacoits, and something more than an ordinary bond, for he was at the head of the band, an acknowledged leader.
Yet the unaccountable part was this -- since Chutney several years before had saved his life in the Neilgherry Hills, the native had never been near Burma until recently; in fact, had scarcely been absent for an hour at a time from Chutney's presence. His relationship with the dacoits then was of long duration, an ancient tie but recently renewed.
The more Forbes pondered over it, the deeper the mystery grew. He could get no chance to talk to Dalo, for that wily scamp kept far ahead.
Morning dawned, but they marched on, crossing hill and mountain, forest and plain, until, late in the day, they reached a great frowning mountain, and marched without stopping into a black, gloomy hole that seemed to lead down into the bowels o£ the earth.
The work of clearing away the debris was begun without delay. There was an abundance of space just inside the entrance, and here Wood was stationed with a lighted torch, which he held in such a fashion as to throw the light some distance up the passageway. Their candles must be saved for a time of greater need.
A line was formed with Topee at the head, and the rubbish, which was mainly of good sized slabs, was passed along from man to man until it came to Jung, who tossed it down on a heap. They worked hard until far in the afternoon, and then it became apparent that they must have food and drink, for very little water was left in the bottles.
It was a rather gloomy council that they held out in the open air, for every man was more or less discouraged. They could toil on hopefully at the work with sufficient food, but to labor on for hours yet in that damp, gloomy cavern, with nothing to eat, was more than human endurance could stand.
There was water, Topee said, down near the fortress -- a big stream that bubbled up among the rocks and ran on down through the valley. But as for food -- that was a different matter. There was game, to be sure, on the mountain and in the jungle, but there was no noiseless way to kill it, even had it been safe to venture out.
At this critical time of need Guy came to the rescue. He coolly took possession of the water bottles, which were covered with leather, and announced his intention of going to have them filled. All volunteered to accompany him, but he insisted on going alone. From Topee's directions he gleaned that the spring rose alongside of the first house in the valley, and the Chinaman appeared sanguine that the plan would succeed if sufficient care was observed.
It was close to sundown already, and, leaving them to continue the work, Guy made his way out through the cavernous entrance and struck off through the jungle in the direction of the fortress. He had a revolver stowed away in his pocket, and the bunch of bottles was slung at his side.
It was very dark when he finally reached the edge of the jungle. The gloomy bulk of the fortress rose before him, grim and black against the faintly luminous sky.
At intervals among the trees shone the ruddy glow of scattered fires, and close at hand, across a level patch of jungle grass, was the first of the dacoit dwellings, a neat structure of bamboo and rice matting. A light shone through the crevices, telling plainly that its occupant was at home.
The necessity of procuring water had blinded Guy to the extreme peril. Repressing his fear of snakes, he dropped into the long grass, and serpent-like crawled toward the spring, which, from the bubbling sound, seemed to rise close by the wall of the house.
It was brief work to reach it, and, as he came perilously near the dwelling, he made the alarming discovery that the spring lay before the open entrance, and was lit up by the blaze of light from the interior.
Cautiously he crept forward till he gained the shelter of a big rock, and, as he poked his head over the top, he saw a sight inside that caused him to utterly forget his errand.
A solitary figure was toasting a bit of meat over a slow fire in the corner of the hut. The floor was spread with palm leaves, and along the walls were ranged a rude bed, and a table partly filled with earthenware vessels. The man wore a dingy linen blouse and trousers, and his feet were thrust into a pair of sandals.
A dacoit, Guy, supposed of course, for his arms and ankles were dark; but as he turned partly round to reach a dish from the table he revealed to Guy's amazed view a face that could belong to no dacoit, bronzed and swarthy indeed, but lit up by a pair of blue eyes, while a bristling mustache shadowed a very resolute mouth.
Guy watched him long and curiously, a vague suspicion of the truth all the while gaining ground in his mind.
Then, as the man turned his back, he bethought himself of the sparkling water within his reach, and, taking one of the bottles, he leaned out and let it drop into the spring. The strap that held it was rotten. The swirling water, leaping and tumbling out of the ground, snatched the bottle loose and dashed it noisily against the stones.
The sharp click, click, as it glanced from stone to stone, instantly reached the man within. He rose and hurried to the entrance, alert and watchful. Discovery was certain, and, acting on a sudden and uncontrollable impulse, Guy stood erect and faced him. A brief pause, and then Chutney exclaimed eagerly:
"Loyd Terril!"
A sudden pallor lightened for an instant the stranger's tanned and sunburnt skin, and he pressed his hand to his forehead, while his eyes, glassy and staring, roved over Guy from head to foot. He staggered, but recovered himself instantly.
"Am I dreaming -- or am I mad?" he said hoarsely; "did I hear my own name? Speak, ghost or Englishman, whichever you be! But what folly -- an Englishman in Pandy's fortress! I am mad indeed."
"No, you are not dreaming, Loyd Terril," said Guy in a low voice. "It is an Englishman you see, and your brother Vance is close at hand."
The man shook off his stupor instantly, and with a quick motion tossed a bowl of water on the blazing fire.
"Inside, quick!" he whispered, and as Guy stepped across the threshold he clasped his hand in a grip like iron. "Thank God," he whispered in a voice that trembled with emotion. "Thank God that help has come at last. But how did you penetrate here?" he added in sudden alarm. "You are a prisoner -- an unfortunate wretch like myself?"
"No; I am no prisoner," said Guy. "But are we safe here?"
"Safe? Yes. No one will come near for an hour or more."
He picked up a square of matting and hung it across the doorway.
"Now tell me what this means, quick. You spoke of my brother. I had well-nigh forgot I ever had a brother. I recall him now, a slip of a lad with yellow hair and blue eyes. Do you mean to tell me that little Vance is in this barbarous country, even now close at hand? And you -- you are an Englishman, are you not? A captain of Hussars, I see by your uniform. I used to know so many brave soldiers at Rangoon. So long ago it seems now. But it dazes me to see a British uniform in such a place as this. I am burning with curiosity."
"I will explain all," said Guy, and in a low voice he briefly related the circumstances that had brought them into the neighborhood, and how they had passed the tunnel and gained the shelter of the jungle. At first he touched cautiously on the object of their mission, but gradually any lingering suspicion that he might have had passed away, and without reserve he poured out the whole story -- the mystery of the secret cavern, the revengeful Chinaman, and the daring plot to capture the dacoit chief, omitting only the suspected identity of the latter with the Hindoo Nana Sahib.
Loyd Terril listened with thrilling interest and amazement to this strange tale, a tale that was fraught with double meaning to this man who had been dead to the outer world for three long years. "Marvelous, marvelous!" he exclaimed. "I shall be free once more. And the treasure that lies in yonder fortress. It is fabulous, immense! We will take it with us. Why, we shall be millionaires ten times over." He raised his voice in his excitement, and then lowered it as suddenly. "Stop! You say this cavern leads to an apartment in the fortress adjoining the chamber of the chief? It is occupied by guards day and night. At least it was a month ago. Since then I have not put foot within the fortress. There is the difficulty. If I could but gain some information, but I know little of the interior. I am only a slave -- a slave kept here to serve as interpreter and scribe for the robber chief. I am watched constantly, of course. Escape was always impossible."
"But tell me," asked Guy, "is our presence not suspected?"
"No," answered Loyd. "The guard on the outer side of the tunnel was found in the bushes, but the possibility of your party having really entered the tunnel was not for a moment suspected, especially since a large band of dacoits came through immediately afterward without having seen you. That was a wonderful escape of yours. A search is now being made in the country off toward the Sarawong Creek."
"What was the object of that war party we met?" asked Guy.
"Ah, you suspected it was a war party then! I know little, but it seems that an Englishman was captured along the Chindwin River some time ago by a couple of Pandy's men, but on the way here he was released by a white man who lives in a deep valley some miles distant.
"A white man?" Guy interrupted in astonishment.
"Yes, an American like myself, I believe. He traps wild animals and sends them clown to the Western Coast. His name is Bolton. The dacoits have never harmed him, but this rescue of their prisoner was an unfortunate thing for Bolton, who is a brave, reckless sort of a fellow. Only three days ago I was sent under strong guard to demand the prisoner. Bolton refused, and this band you met last night will destroy the place, murder Bolton and his men and bring back the Englishman alive."
"And then what?" put in Guy.
Loyd dropped his voice to a whisper. "Ah, that's what I don't know. I have seen more than one English prisoner enter that fortress. I have seen the people flock together and heard terrible cries of agony. Ah, it was horrible, horrible."
Strangely enough Guy never for an instant identified this prisoner with Forbes. Some captive taken at Balet, he supposed, and he pitied him from the bottom of his heart.
"Has this Pandy a special hatred then toward Englishmen?" he inquired.
"Yes, he seems to have. Naturally he would. They have usurped his right to rob and plunder the Burmese."
"You think that is the cause of his bitter hatred?"
Loyd did not reply. His head was turned to one side and he held up a warning finger.
Guy listened, but heard nothing. Then Loyd pulled aside the matting from the rear wall and peered cautiously out.
One glimpse, and he turned toward Guy a face that was pale with fright.
"You are lost," he whispered hoarsely. "The guards are coming from the tunnel."
"Is there no escape?" cried Guy.
"None," groaned Lord. "They are carrying torches and all is light as day."
He took another survey through the aperture and then staggered back.
"You are a doomed man," he stammered huskily. "It is the terrible Pandy himself, surrounded by his bodyguard."
"No! No! Not that!" cried Guy, staring around him helplessly.
"Hold on. I have it. You may be saved yet," exclaimed Loyd. "Crouch down in that corner, beside the entrance. Don't move a muscle for your life. Not a sound, remember, or we are both lost men. Quick! quick! before it is too late;" and, as Guy hastily obeyed orders and dropped into the corner, Loyd tossed the mat over him and with a quick movement swept half of the palm leaves from the floor on top of that. Not a moment too soon, for footsteps sounded at the entrance, a glare of torches shone into the interior, and a harsh voice called distinctly, "Sahib Terril."
Loyd came forward as calmly as possible, but his face was flushed and his eyes had a strange glitter. From the suffocating folds of the matting Guy listened with all his might.
The torch bearers had plainly halted across the spring for half the hut was in shadow. The dacoit chief was standing in the doorway. Loyd's agitation had not escaped his notice.
"Is the sahib unwell?" he asked in a sleek, oily voice, that had a terrible, yet familiar ring to Guy's ears. "His skin is feverish and his eyes are glassy."
Where could this robber have acquired such perfect English? Guy wondered.
"It is nothing," stammered Loyd. "I have lost -- a piece of -- tobacco. See -- I—I have tossed the leaves—in -- vain. Tobacco is not so -- so plenty -- that one can afford to lose a piece."
A moment's silence, during which Guy could hear his heart thumping against his ribs. Would this feeble explanation satisfy the robber, or was discovery at hand?
The dacoit's next words were more reassuring.
"You know somewhat of guns, do you not?" he asked, ignoring the subject of the tobacco.
"Of their construction?" replied Loyd, briefly. "Yes, a little."
"Very good. Tomorrow at sunrise present yourself at the fortress. I have a cannon that is slightly out of order. I would have it repaired."
Loyd bowed in silent assent, and Guy fervently hoped the terrible visitor would depart. To his horror he made a step forward, coming so close that Guy could have reached out his hand and touched him.
"Sahib Terril," he cried in a harsh, menacing tone, "before one more sun sets yonder fortress will hold another of those accursed Feringhi, and when two more suns have risen the red flag will float from yonder rocks. You have never honored with your presence these festive occasions that I provide for my people. This time I have a rare treat in store. You shall see how an English officer likes to be blown from a cannon's mouth. There was a time when --" he paused.
"I will await you at sunrise," he added, and turning abruptly he left the hut, and, followed by his guards, strode away toward the fortress.
Pale and trembling, yet devoutly thankful for his deliverance, Guy crawled out from his hiding-place.
Loyd pulled him roughly to his feet.
"You must leave here at once," he whispered. "You heard all. See what you have escaped."
"But what did he mean?" asked Guy. "They have not yet returned?"
"No," replied Loyd, "but when they come they will have the Englishman with them. His capture is certain. Fill your bottles now, and I will give you what food I have. I dare not go with you. They would scour the jungle, and all would be discovered. But tomorrow at this time return. If you find the hut in darkness you will know that I am awaiting you. I may learn something of value at the fortress in the meanwhile."
Guy lost no time in filling the bottles, and then Loyd gave him a wicker basket containing rice cakes, a flask of native liquor, and a small joint of venison.
"This must do until tomorrow," he said. "Go at once now, for two dacoits share this hut with me. They are on guard at the tunnel now, but no one knows what may happen. Till tomorrow, goodbye."
He fairly pushed Guy outside, and with a fervent clasp of the hand turned away.
The journey back was a fearful undertaking. The night was dark as pitch, and once or twice Guy despaired of finding his way at all. His brain was in a whirl, too, over the startling occurrences of the evening. He could scarcely believe that he had really been so close to the dreaded Pandy. One thing he had firmly resolved on. If this unfortunate Englishman should really be brought in a prisoner, he must be saved at all hazards.
What a horrible thing it must be to be blown from the mouth of a cannon! And as this thought passed through his mind he remembered with a thrill that this was the very punishment the English inflicted on certain captives during the great mutiny. Yes, it was as plain as day now; this Pandy must be the terrible Nana Sahib, and his whole life was devoted to insatiate revenge.
Crash ! Guy stumbled head foremost over a heap of rocks, and, as he pulled himself angrily to his feet, a low whistle reached his ears. He whistled in reply and pressed on. Another signal and another, and then Topee's welcome voice hailed him in a whisper, and, taking the Chinaman's outstretched hand, he stumbled through the cavernous passageway and was soon shaking hands with his delighted comrades.
"By Jove," cried Carew, "I thought you were a goner this time."
"What luck?" demanded the more practical Terril. "Is it food or famine?"
For answer Guy tossed down the provisions and the water bottles.
"We're in no danger of starving," he said. "But let food go for the present. I have much to tell you. Terril, I have seen your brother."
"What! My brother! You don't mean it, Chutney. Is he alive and well?" In his excitement Terril rose and seized Guy with both hands.
"Yes, he is well. Sit down now and calm yourself, and I will tell you all."
The silence was profound as Guy hurriedly related his adventure. Topee had lit a wretchedly bad lamp and its dim glow revealed the deep interest on the faces of the listeners. "And now what is to be done?" Guy asked in conclusion.
"We must wait," said Carew.
"Yes; you must see my brother first," cried Terril. "You say he visits the fortress tomorrow. All will depend on the news he brings. Nothing can be done for another day."
"You are right," replied Guy. "With your brother's aid we shall succeed, I feel sure."
"It is hard to believe that Loyd is really alive," said Terril. "I hoped to avenge his death. Instead we shall release him from captivity."
"And now," added Carew, impressively, "we, too, have a tale to unfold. During your absence we have not been idle."
"What!" exclaimed Guy, excitedly. "The passageway -- is it clear?"
"Clear as a whistle. Topee and Jung worked like beavers, and soon struck the other side. The rubbish is cleared away, and nothing now hinders our penetrating to the heart of Pandy's fortress."
"That is indeed glorious news," cried Guy. "How far have you gone in?"
"Not at all," said Terril. "Topee insisted on waiting."
"Yep," put in the Chinaman. "Waitee on daytime. Heap better. Getee light from clacks in roof. Allee dark now. No dare takee lantern."
"Topee is right," said Guy. "We had better not venture in until we hear from Loyd tomorrow night. In fact, all depends on him now. We can form no plans at all. This war party will return tomorrow, and if they bring the English prisoner we must take action at once. And now, I advise sleep. We have all of tomorrow to rest, and after that -- we'll hardly close our eyes this side of the Sarawong Creek, so sleep while you may."
Guy's advice was acted upon without questioning. Each man rolled himself in his blanket and picked out a soft spot on the turf. Overhead shone the stars, and around them was the encircling rampart of stone, its compass broken at two places, one the semicircular portal that led outward to the jungle, the other a yawning black passageway that led -- where? To death, perhaps, or would success reward their daring? A few hours more, and the question will be answered.
All through the night they slept on -- slept as only weary and exhausted men can sleep. Topee alone was restless. He tossed about, turning from side to side, and once he sat upright and with trembling hands looked fearfully round him. He found the flask of liquor, and after a hearty pull at its contents, Burmese rice brandy, rolled over in a deep slumber that lasted far into the morning.
It was well on to noon when the party gathered about the remains of the food. All looked haggard and weary in spite of their long sleep, but the venison and rice cakes, washed down with a copious supply of water had a marvelous effect, and gave them fresh courage and vitality. Arms were well looked to, and each man burdened himself with as much ammunition as he could conveniently carry. No one ventured into the cavern. The time for that would come soon enough.
The afternoon dragged along wearily, but at last twilight came, and it was welcomed eagerly as a signal that suspense would soon be at an end.
Very calmly Guy prepared for the start. He buttoned on his double leggins and strapped the bottles on his back.
"Now, Carew," he said, "see that all is ready. It is probable nothing will be done till morning, but on the other hand it may be necessary -- hark! did you heard that?"
Guy's ears were sharper than the others'. They had heard nothing. In breathless silence all waited, and this time an unmistakable whistle came from the jungle.
With sudden fear they scanned each others' faces. The sound was twice repeated. Then Topee glided away like a serpent.
They heard the whistle again followed by an oppressive silence that lasted for what seemed like hours until footsteps sounded in the jungle outside, and Topee burst through the entrance, followed closely by none other than Loyd Terril himself, panting and breathless, reeking with perspiration, and loaded down with a great wicker basket of provisions and a goatskin full of water, which dropped heavily to the ground from his relaxed grasp.
He staggered and would have fallen, but Vance sprang forward in time to catch him, and the two brothers met in a warm embrace.
"Thank God," Loyd cried fervently. He repeated it over and over, completely unnerved, and holding Vance off at arm's length, gazed at him through tear-dimmed eyes.
Then he brushed his hand half angrily across his face.
"But I am wasting precious time," he cried. "Tell me one thing, quick, Captain Chutney; is that passage open yet?"
"Yes, it is open," said Guy.
Loyd gave a sigh of relief.'
"You are surprised that I am here," he went on hurriedly. "I had to come. I could stay no longer, so I got together some food and filled that skin full of water and trusted to chance to discover your hiding-place. That Chinaman yonder I recognize. He was one of the guards at the fortress at one time, though I don't suppose he knew I was a prisoner here. I have much to tell you and little time to tell it in if we value our lives and would see the coast again. Listen and I will make it as brief as possible.
"This morning I was at the fortress. It is a fearful place. I was in the apartment to which you say this cavern leads. The walls are draped with heavy folds of rugs to hide the bare stones, and arms are hung about in profusion. It is a very arsenal. It was here I found the cannon to be repaired; its injury a mere trifle -- only a broken wheel.
"A dozen guards sleep here at night, and in the broad corridor outside lie as many more, the very pick of all Burma, great massive fellows who know not fear and would hesitate at nothing. Across the corridor, opposite the entrance to the arsenal, heavy folds of richly woven curtains hide the chosen apartments of the chief. They are three in number. I have never seen a foot inside, but here he keeps treasures that defy the imagination to grasp. The spoils of decades pillaged from temple and pagoda, from Burmans and English. And day and night the armed guards pace that passageway, never for a moment absent. As Pandy led me past the great, open place that fronts the fortress, he said:
"'Tomorrow, remember, you will be present here,'"
"But have they returned?" cried Guy, interrupting him.
"Yes," said Loyd bitterly. "That is what I came to tell you. Scarcely an hour ago, the brazen gongs at the fortress were sounded, and down the road from the tunnel came the band. They were sadly less in numbers, and their faces were dark with anger. In the center, his hands bound, walked the Englishman, very pale, but stepping firmly and steadily. His face I have seen before, Captain Chutney at Rangoon, perhaps. I cannot recall it now. At the head of the band marched a stranger, whence and when he came I don't know. I was startled to see him, for he is almost the image of Pandy himself, and many could not distinguish between the two. He was richly dressed and carried a sword. Perhaps it was Pandy, and yet I did not see him leave the fortress. There have been many strangers here within a week past, and this man may have come without my knowledge. It is certain that he is no Burman. He is, like Pandy, of the same race as that man," and Loyd pointed to Jung Hadar, who was listening with deep interest. "But while we stand here the Englishman lies in his prison; and at sunrise the red flag will wave from the fortress."
"What are we to do?" demanded Guy in desperation. "Our plans are useless. The capture of this villain must be abandoned. That he is the Hindoo Nana Sahib himself I don't doubt, and when England knows it all Burma won't save Pandy and his fortress from her vengeance. I had hoped to be the one to capture him" -- Guy's voice faltered and he turned his face away to hide his disappointment.
"I could lead you back in safety to Balet," he went on. "I could give up Pandy and the treasure, but to abandon that Englishman to his fate would be vile cowardice. I cannot and will not do it," and with this expression of his sentiments Guy scrutinized the faces of his comrades to see how his words were received.
"I'm with you, Chutney," cried Carew, clasping Guy's hand, an example that was instantly followed by all.
"You are brave fellows," said Guy deeply moved; "and now let Loyd speak. It is to him we must look for advice in this emergency."
"If you are resolved to stay," said Loyd, "on the chance of saving the Englishman, then there is but one thing to be done. To rescue him tonight is impossible. At sunrise he will be led out to his doom --"
"You speak in riddles," cried Guy, impatiently. "What ground for hope is there, then?"
"We must gain time," rejoined Loyd, coolly. "The brass cannon that is destined to figure in the event of the morrow stands tonight in the arsenal. Before sunrise it must be spiked."
"Impossible!" said Guy. "You say a dozen guards occupy the apartment."
"On ordinary occasions they do. Tonight there will be carousing at the fortress. If we act at once the chances are we shall find the arsenal empty."
"But we have nothing to spike it with, and besides the first blow would alarm the whole fortress," said Guy.
"There need be no blows," replied Loyd. "I thought of that this morning. The touchhole is large. You have a pocket knife. Thrust it down the touchhole. Pour melted lead around it, and the thing is done."
"How can we melt the lead?"
"Why, build a fire in the cavern. You say currents of air pass through it."
"But won't the fire be detected from without?
There are crevices overhead and in the sides."
"We must run the risk,'* answered Loyd. "It is the only hope."
"But there is nothing to melt the lead in," objected Guy.
"I prepared for that," said Loyd. "Here is an old brass helmet I picked out from some rubbish at the fortress. The chin strap will do for a handle. Pick open some of your shells now to get the lead. You see," Loyd went on hurriedly, "Pandy will delay to repair the cannon, and thus the prisoner's life will be prolonged. I dare not stay any longer. Will you undertake this yourself?"
"Yes," said Guy, resolutely, "I will."
"Then make ready at once. You know what to do. Be cautious. Remember it is the only hope. You must succeed. I would remain with you, but I should be missed, and they would scour the jungle for me. Besides I will be in a position to guide your movements. Keep up your courage. We shall rescue the poor fellow yet, and who knows but what Pandy may fall into our hands!"
A brief farewell to his brother, and then Loyd slipped away, while Guy was left to face the biggest contract he had ever assumed.
The thing had to be done speedily if done at all, so a couple of dozen shells were emptied of their loads, and a pile of dry wood was collected from the jungle. Carew and Terril, much to their disgust, were to be left behind with Jung and Wood to watch the entrance. Topee and Chauner were to accompany Guy.
Topee picked up the lamp and shouldered the wood. Chauner took the helmet full of lead. Those who were to remain clasped Guy's hand in silence. It was no time for words.
Headed by the Chinaman they entered the cavern in single file, and the gleam of the lantern dwindled and faded until lost to the view of those without.
At first the path led downwards at a frightful angle, and they stumbled on recklessly over jagged rocks and through slimy beds of mud. Then came level ground, and they hurried on faster, stopping frequently to avoid the sharp, dripping petrifications that hung from the low ceiling.
Topee halted at a big rock that half blocked the passage. He tossed down the wood and motioned Chauner to drop the helmet.
"Now come along me," he said to Guy in an impressive whisper.
He turned the corner of the rock and softly began to ascend the passage beyond, which grew suddenly high and broad, but increased in steepness.
Before Guy fully realized where he was, Topee had halted and was holding the lantern close to the ground.
"Look!" he whispered, and following the Chinaman's motion Guy was thrilled to see before him a massive wall of rock, smooth all over apparently, but revealing on closer inspection a detached block of stone close to the ground, fitted with a heavy iron handle that was red and corroded with rust.
The lantern shook in Topee's hand, and Guy himself was feeling very nervous. It was a terribly risky thing to open that slab and perhaps find oneself confronted by a dozen armed dacoits.
It had to be done, however, and without delay.
No sounds could be heard within, but then the thickness of the walls would completely shut out even the braying of a brass band.
"Blow out the lantern," said Guy firmly, and in an instant they were in total darkness.
Together they grasped the iron handle. It shook loosely in its socket. Very slowly they pressed inward. Inch by inch it yielded, and every inch struck fresh terror to their hearts.
Guy passed his hand along the side of the cavity. The massive block was fairly inside the apartment beyond, and yet not a gleam of light from within. Was the fortress deserted? The walls were not so thick, after all, barely a foot.
"Now pushee other way," said Topee in a low whisper that magnified itself a thousand times to their heated imaginations.
Squeezing together into the aperture they exerted all their strength, Topee at the end of the block, Guy at the iron handle, and with a harsh grating rattle it moved slowly along the inner wall.
The noise struck terror to their souls. They backed in frantic haste into the passage and with throbbing hearts awaited the result of their rashness.
One minute passed and then another, but no sound came from within. Guy ventured back, and feeling cautiously with his hand, discovered that the slab had been moved up along the inside wall half way, and a space was thus opened fully large enough to crawl through.
His next move made all plain, for thrusting his hand forward into what he supposed was the black darkness of the arsenal he felt a soft, silky fabric that gave way to the touch. He drew back his hand, and after a moment's deliberation crept partly into the opening and with the greatest care slowly raised the cloth from the bottom. Inch by inch he gathered up the folds until he was able to see the interior of the chamber.
There was nothing alarming apparently in the sight that met his eyes. On the left was the corridor Loyd had mentioned, and through the narrow doorway a faint light shone into the chamber from an unseen lamp.
The corridor itself, what little of it was in view, seemed to be empty. A hasty glance showed him this, and then he turned his attention to the chamber before him.
Coming from the darkness of the cavern he was able to distinguish the dim objects in the room with tolerable accuracy. The first thing that riveted his attention was the cannon, a ghostly-looking object that stood in the center of the floor and reflected a phosphorescent glow from its polished brass barrels and wheels.
"So far so good," thought Guy. "The situation begins to look hopeful."
The walls on all sides were hung with heavy curtains, reaching ten feet or more from the floor, and about them into the solid rock were fastened arms and shields that glittered with their own polished brilliancy.
Opposite him, against the walls, were ranged long, familiar looking boxes, no doubt cases of plundered rifles, while to the right beyond the cannon what appeared to be masses of bedding could be indistinctly perceived.
The coast was clear. There was no doubt of it. But how long it would remain clear was a different matter.
"Be quick, now," he whispered. "Build your fire and melt the lead as soon as possible."
"Allee yight," Topee replied; and then Guy heard him slipping down the passage to join Chauner at the bottom.
Now came the most trying time. It would require at the least fifteen to twenty minutes before the lead could be ready. Would all pass off serenely in the meanwhile!
Guy's first intention had been to remain where he was, but as Topee's fire began to blaze up he saw the necessity of dropping the curtain, and yet if this were done he could not see what took place within.
He pulled himself upright, still keeping under the curtain, and glided noiselessly out into the room. A glance showed that the fire could not be detected, and pressing the curtain close against the rock he moved on tiptoe toward the corridor, keeping one hand on his revolver. A few steps brought him to the shadow of the doorway, and moving his head a few inches, he gained a full view of the corridor.
The sight was indeed startling. Within five yards of him on the opposite side of the passage was a massive stone door linked to the wall with a ponderous chain, and stretched before it on the corridor floor lay half a dozen sleeping dacoits, their muscular forms and their shining weapons at their sides boldly exposed in the light of a small bronze lamp that rested on a low stool.
Guy's breath came short and quick, and yet there was no cause for present alarm. Time enough for that when they awoke.
Just around the corner was the entrance to Pandy's apartments, Loyd had said, and Guy felt a burning desire to take just one peep. To what length his rashness would have carried him it is hard to say, but, as he hesitated, footsteps echoed down the corridor, arms rattled, and then, with heavy tread, six, stalwart dacoits, four Burmans, and two Chinamen, marched up the passage.
Horribly scared, Guy slipped behind the curtain at his side, and awaited developments.
The newcomers woke up the sleeping guards, to judge from the confusion. They were evidently about to change places, and the horrible thought now flashed across Guy that the relieved guard would come straight to the arsenal to finish their sleep. Happily they did not. Something unusual was transpiring outside the fortress, for the new arrivals were somewhat boisterous and noisy, and dropping in various attitudes on the floor began to gamble with silver coins and odd shaped dice, while the others, without loss of time, strode down the corridor and vanished round a sharp corner at the far end.
Guy remained in his place of concealment until he saw that all were deeply engrossed in the game. He was just in the act of creeping from the curtain when a sound fell on his ear that almost froze the blood in his veins.
It was a heavy, rustling noise, and came from the far corner of the chamber.
He drew back, crouching close to the cold wall, and yet retained presence of mind to peep out from the edge of the curtain.
The noise was not repeated for a moment or two, and, as Guy still strained his eyes into the gloom he suddenly became aware that a man was standing erect in the shadow on the other side of the hanging.
With a stealthy tread he moved forward until he stood beside the cannon, and with a throbbing heart Guy kept his eyes fixed upon him.
Was he aware of Guy's presence? That was the question. Plainly he suspected something, and he turned a careful gaze about the chamber, acting precisely as a man would who had been awakened by a bad dream, and was still uncertain whether it was a reality or not.
This, in all probability, was just the situation. The fellow had been in a stupor during all that had happened, and, having fully wakened up, was trying to satisfy his doubts. He was an ugly looking customer, not large, but of powerful build, and was gayly decked out in striped blouse and trousers. A bad man to tackle, Guy concluded, and he devoutly wished the scoundrel would go and join his friends in the corridor, and leave the coast clear.
But the dacoit was still unsatisfied. He glanced indifferently toward the corridor, and then, to Guy's horror, turned deliberately and walked toward the secret exit.
In his dream, perhaps, he had seen some one emerge from under that hanging curtain, and, foolish as it all was, he was going to lift that curtain just to satisfy his curiosity. He grasped the nearest fold and slowly raised it.
Guy's brain seemed to be on fire as he saw the inevitable exposure that was at hand, but he instantly nerved himself to try the forlorn hope that yet remained.
The dacoit raised the curtain, and with a sinking heart Guy saw the flickering gleam from Topee's fire far down the passage. The dacoit saw it, too. Perfectly incapable of making any noise or outcry, he stood petrified in mute wonder, still holding up the curtain as he bent low and gazed into the flamelit cavern.
Probably no thought of danger entered his head. If he had been drinking, as was probably the case, he may have believed himself under the influence of an acute attack of delirium tremens. Whatever his emotions, curiosity was plainly on top, for he continued to strain his eyes into the cavern, entirely oblivious to the fact that an unseen enemy was approaching from the rear; for Guy, resolved to make a bold stroke for success, was moving with catlike tread toward his stooping enemy.
It was a terrible moment. The fate of all was trembling in the balance. A backward glance from the dacoit, and -- farewell to home and friends, and yet in this trying emergency Guy felt critically cool and collected.
Only a yard intervened between them now. Guy set his teeth hard, uttered a silent prayer, and, with all the desperate strength that he could summon, darted out his arms with a lightning-like motion, and, gripping the dacoit's bony throat between his quivering fingers, bore him, face downward, to the ground.
Guy's work was done quickly and noiselessly, and for the first second or two, while Chutney flattened himself against the hard floor, the dacoit was too stunned or alarmed to make any struggle. But Guy's finger had closed his windpipe, and when he realized that he was suffocating he threw all his strength into a mighty effort to rise, and when Guy still held him to the floor, he began to kick violently, in the hope of attracting the attention of his friends in the corridor.
Fortunately for Chutney, those dreaded individuals were deep in their game, and paid no attention to the slight noises in the arsenal, attributing them no doubt to the restlessness of their comrade whom they supposed ts be still sleeping in the corner.
But the situation was fast growing critical. The dacoit was a heavier man than Guy, and although the merciless grip on his throat was never for a second relaxed, his struggles were increasing in violence, and Guy began to think that he had caught a tartar.
They lay half under the folds of the curtain and at the very mouth of the cavern, so that Guy could actually see the light of the fire and the shadows cast by Topee and Chauner as they moved about.
If he could only have called to the Chinaman. But that was out of the question. The faintest outcry would have brought in the guards, and, in fact, as it was, he might be discovered at any moment. The struggle must end one way or another, and, setting his teeth harder, Guy forced the dacoit, who had half risen, down to the ground again. The spasmodic struggles suddenly ceased, and, thrown off his guard by the impression that his foe was losing consciousness, Guy very perceptibly loosened his hold.
It was a grave mistake. With one sudden, lightning-like effort the wily scamp turned like an eel, and, taking Guy completely by surprise, the situation was reversed in an instant, and Chutney found himself undermost.
He still kept his grip on the fellow's throat, so that no outcry was possible, and, though the dacoit's eyes seemed starting from his head, he coolly fastened one hand on Guy's throat, while with the other he fumbled in his tunic in a manner which left no room for doubt as to the object of the movement. He was searching for his knife.
What Guy felt in that short interval he can never forget. He was helpless, unable to move an inch. The dacoit's bony hand was slowly throttling him, yet he never slackened his viselike grip on his enemy's throat, and only pressed the harder as he felt consciousness rapidly leaving him.
Then the rascal's other hand came up, and Guy saw the glitter of a knife. A brief second, and all would be over.
The knife was lifted, and just as it was about to descend, a long yellow hand, with pointed nails, snatched the uplifted arm, and then the dacoit was raised bodily into the air, and Guy rose slowly to his feet to find Topee at his side, and his desperate foe a limp mass upon the stone floor. The Chinaman made a motion of silence, and Guy only pressed his hand warmly.
In the corridor the game went quietly on, the players serenely unconscious of the little drama that had just ended so close to them. At a signal from Topee, Guy squeezed through the opening, and the Chinaman followed, pulling the senseless dacoit behind him.
His first act was to gag the fellow's mouth with a big wad of greasy linen, and to bind his arms and legs securely. Then, dropping him roughly against the side of the cavern to come to at his leisure, he slid down the rocky descent, motioning to Guy to follow.
"No talkee now," he whispered, when Guy tried to question him; and then he pointed to the fire where the brazen helmet rested in the midst of the flames, carefully watched over by Chauner, who was in complete ignorance of all that had just occurred. Time enough to enlighten him after their mission was accomplished.
Looking into the helmet, Guy saw that the lead was in a molten condition. Chauner carefully thrust a billet of wood under the brass chin strap and lifted it from the fire.
"Now you go glick. See if allee yight," said Topee. "Me bringee lead."
He pulled another roll of dirty linen from under his blouse and made a comfortable handle by wrapping it round and round the chin strap.
"You must make haste, captain," added Chauner. "The lead will soon harden off the fire."
Guy crept, up the slope past the still senseless prisoner, and, cautiously moving the curtain, made a preliminary survey.
He breathed a sigh of relief. The chink of coin and the rattle of dice still went merrily on in the corridor. A perfect fever of anxiety took possession of him now that the desired opportunity was within his grasp. Topee was at his side, with the helmet flaring like a small volcano.
He crept through into the room, took the helmet from Topee's hands, and stood upright.
The Chinaman dropped the curtain back into place, and crouched down in the opening, ready to assist if necessary.
Guy moved noiselessly to the cannon's side, and placed the helmet of lead upon the floor. His nerve had all come back to him, and with a hand that never trembled he drew a small pearl-cased knife from his pocket, and, opening the blade, pressed it by main force down the touchhole.
It fitted tightly into place. A hasty glance toward the corridor showed no cause for alarm. No approaching shadow blurred the dim radiance from the bronze lamp; the coins still clinked, the dice rattled unceasingly.
Guy lifted the helmet slowly. It rose to the level of the barrel, and the faint glow from the heated brass plainly revealed the touchhole. With one hand he held it directly over the spot, while with the other he carefully tipped the helmet by means of a bit of wood. Slowly the rim descended, the black scum gathered to the edge, and then beneath it the molten lead glistened like silver. Closer and closer. It trembled on the verge now, and then, guided by a steady hand, the thin, glittering stream trickled down the touchhole.
"Boom!"
With a thunderous explosion and a streak of flame the brass monster recoiled on its shaft. The walls, shivered and rent by the mighty force of this underground blast, shattered down a hailstorm of slabs and loose stones and blinding dust; the brazen helmet spattered its liquid burden in all directions, and fell with a crash to the floor, while Guy, blinded and deafened, staggered back against the wall and toppled over on the mass of bedding.
At first the terrible explosion was followed by a dead silence that was rendered all the more awful by the dense, pitchy darkness, for the concussion had extinguished the bronze lamp in the corridor. Then arose a tumult of cries and imprecations, piteous wails for help, and shouts of anger and rage.
Dimly through the stone walls came a confused murmur from the outer air, an ominous sound that grew louder and louder. The Chinaman, crouching low in the entrance to the cavern, had escaped the fullest shock of the explosion. Dazed though he was, he comprehended what had happened, and lost no time in acting.
It was singular how cool he was under such trying circumstances, but he realized perhaps that for the present there was no immediate peril. Little danger that the guards would rush into the darkened chamber.
So, crawling on hands and knees, be made his way across the floor. He reached the cannon, and then more by instinct than knowledge, for the darkness had been simultaneous with the explosion, he steered directly for the wall to his right. Success rewarded his sagacity. He found Guy sitting upright upon a rough mattress, and no doubt oblivious to everything, for the explosion must have destroyed his hearing at once, and no doubt his senses with it.
Taking him by one arm and half dragging him along. Topee started on the return journey. He traversed a yard or two, and then came to a sudden halt. This he repeated twice. He had lost his bearings.
In the meantime the noise without had swelled, and was coming closer.
All was silent in the corridor, and the guards, terrified half out of their wits, had no doubt retreated outside. The wretched Chinaman made another effort to find his way, and this time bumped into the cannon.
Guy, obedient as a child, submitted to be led. Still deaf from the explosion, and half choked by the floating dust and powder, Topee grasped the cannon wheel and confusedly tried to recollect which was the right direction. It was no use. He was plainly lost. Doubly lost indeed, for rapid footsteps and confused voices were heard close at hand.
At this most exciting moment an unexpected thing happened. The curtain was suddenly flung back, revealing to Topee's delighted gaze the opening in the wall, lit up by the gleam of the fire beyond.
Chauner, instead of seeking safety in flight, had bravely come forward to investigate, and had thus unconsciously become their salvation.
With a low sound, expressive of satisfaction, Topee half rose and dragged Guy behind him to the entrance.
Chauner uttered a cry of delight to find them safe, and, taking Guy from Topee's arms, hastily pulled him through into the cavern. Topee followed instantly, and just in the nick of time, for a clash of arms and flickering bars of light dancing down the corridor announced the coming of the enemy.
While Chauner hastened away to throw dirt on the fire, Topee grasped the great slab of stone with both hands, and, sliding it into position, dragged it by a superhuman effort into its socket.
Then, taking Guy's saber, scabbard and all, he thrust it through the iron handle in such a fashion that, both ends projecting out beyond the extremities of the stones, made it impossible for it to be pried open from the inside.
The cool air of the cavern had a rapidly bracing effect on Guy. Topee put a flask to his lips and in a moment or two he was all right except for his hearing, which was almost entirely gone. Had the cannon held an ordinary load the effects of the explosion in the confined chambers of the fortress would have been much more disastrous, and Guy would not have escaped so easily. It is strange that no one thought of examining it and thus assuring the success of the undertaking.
A very small charge of powder, probably intended to clean the barrel of long accumulated dirt, had been placed inside ready for use in the morning, and of course the first drop of the melted lead had touched it off.
No time was lost in the cavern. Though the walls shut out all sound, Topee knew that by now the dacoits must have discovered all and would eventually find the secret passage, though whether they could open the door or not was a different matter.
Chauner had put the fire completely out. The lantern, a square frame fitted with a candle, was lit, and they started off in haste down the cavern, Guy at the head, while Topee and Chauner pulled along the prisoner, who had by this time recovered his senses, and manifested an extreme reluctance to penetrating the mysteries of the passage.
By the time they reached the open air Guy had partially recovered his hearing, and gave a graphic account of what had occurred, not forgetting the heroism of Topee and Chauner.
"I'm afraid it's all up with us now," said Carew, when Guy finished. "They will discover the loose stone, of course, and even if they can't open it they will be sharp enough to see that the passage has its mouth somewhere in the jungle. It won't take them long to finish us then."
"Well," said Guy gravely. "Those of you who wish to take the last chance for your lives can scale the mountain and possibly reach the Sarawong in safety. For my part I cannot leave that Englishman to die without another effort to save him, desperate though it be."
"And my brother," cried Terril. "Do you suppose I will desert him now?"
"My dear Chutney," said Carew in a tone of gentle rebuke. "You are unjust. We will see you through with this, come what may. No one wishes to do otherwise."
And indeed it was plainly to be seen that Jack was right, for Chauner and Wood nodded in approval, while Jung, with a very determined look upon his dusky features, was calmly filling the magazine of his rifle with shells.
"You are all brave fellows, I know," continued Guy, "but I don't want you to go into this thing blindly. The failure of our plan has made our case desperate. The secret of the cavern will be -- in fact, no doubt is discovered already -- and though they may not succeed in opening the slab, they will readily understand the situation, and will swarm through the jungle until they discover the entrance. But so be it. You have rejected the offered escape and it only remains to devise some plan of action."
"There is but one thing to be done that I can see," said Carew. "We must force our way into the arsenal, rescue the prisoner, and then either force our way out and strike for the western coast or else retreat backward and if possible make our escape over the mountain."
This desperate proposition which Carew so coolly discussed was actually their one chance and offered no alternative. Guy's face brightened for a moment.
"You are right, Jack," he replied. "There is a grain of hope left, but how desperate it is you all can see. The die is cast then," he added with sudden sternness. "Let each man put a supply of food in his pockets. Carry nothing else, but your rifles and cartridges."
"But my brother, my poor brother," cried Terril, bitterly. "Are you going to leave him to his fate?"
This was a new perplexity, and Guy stared aghast at the speaker for a moment.
Then a ready answer came from an unlooked for source. Without a word of warning Loyd Terril himself rushed, pale and breathless, into their midst.
"You are lost," he cried, hoarsely. "The dacoits are searching the jungle. I was at the fortress but a few moments ago. The secret stone is discovered, but they are unable to force it open, and now you will be caught here like rats in a trap. Hand me a rifle or a revolver, or something. I can at least fight and die with you."
Guy silently passed him a loaded revolver and a handful of cartridges.
"How many of the enemy are left at the fortress ? " he asked.
"A dozen or more," replied Loyd. "But why do you ask0?"
"Why?" cried Guy, "I will show you why. Block up that exit to the jungle quick. Do that first and then I will explain."
With his own hands he began to roll up stones against the underground passage, and soon every one was working with feverish haste. A big bowlder was rolled into place as a starter, and then the crevices were filled in with loose stones, big slabs pulled down from the sides of the cliff and chunks of stone brought from inside the cavern.
In a short time all was complete, and a barrier was erected that would defy a small army for a considerable length of time.
"How about the exterior of this place?" asked Guy. "Is it steep and perpendicular on all sides?"
"Allee steep," replied Topee. "No easy climbee. Maybe mens climb up there," and he pointed to a part of the rock that faced the entrance to the cavern.
"Hold on a minute," cried Chauner. "Here, Jung, climb on my back and then pull yourself up to the top of the wall." He braced himself against the wall, and mounting his back Jung soon reached the top by means of projecting ledges. He crawled the whole length of the circle and then dropped lightly down upon the turf.
"It is steep, sahib, on all sides," he reported to Guy, "except for the place that Topee has shown. There the rock is worn and ragged, and one man can crawl up at a time."
"Ah, that is good," said Guy. "If they come up one at a time it will be no trouble to pick them off with a rifle. Now," he added triumphantly, "we are safe for the present at least. Loyd, if the dacoits discover our little fortress here, will they be likely to make an attack in force or will they still try to open the secret entrance and surprise us from the rear?"
Loyd shook his head.
"They have abandoned that," he said. "Let them once discover your hiding-place here and they will gather their whole force around you. And discover it they will, for the jungle is full of them now. I made my escape just in time."
"Then the chances are in our favor," said Guy. "If we can only hold this place for an hour or two, until the dacoits have assembled their full force, we can take the first chance rush back to the cavern, burst into the fortress, rescue the prisoner, and fight our way out."
"Either that or perish here," returned Loyd, grimly. "Now, Captain Chutney, your plan is good. I beg leave to prefix a little plan of my own. This place is really so well hidden that the dacoits may not discover it for twenty-four hours. That prisoner yonder speaks no English I'll warrant you. Turn him loose and he'll soon have a howling mob on our track."
"That won't do," said Guy. "Pandy does not know how many of us there are. Better leave him under a false impression."
"You are right," assented Loyd. "Then make the rascal give a couple of signal calls. That will serve the purpose just as well."
"Topee," said Guy, "take the gag from that fellow's mouth and make him sing out a couple of times."
The Chinaman promptly obeyed, and hauling the frightened wretch to his feet he jabbered at him for a moment, emphasizing his words with such fierce gestures that the poor wretch, with a look of the utmost wonder on his dark face, lost no time in uttering a couple of piercing howls.
To the surprise of all an answer came at once, close at hand, and then another and another, until hail after hail echoed through the jungle.
"That will soon bring down a hornet's nest on us," said Loyd.
The decoy Burman was promptly gagged again and thrust away in a corner.
They waited for half an hour and their patience was rewarded by a faint gleam of light shining through the crevices in the barrier.
"They have discovered the place," whispered Loyd. "They will do nothing tonight. The attack will be made at daybreak. You need not worry about the prisoner. Pandy will keep him in the expectation of having two or three more of the hated English to shuffle off at the same time. And, by Jove, the odds are in his favor," concluded Loyd, coolly.
Guy shuddered, but said nothing.
Absolute silence reigned outside. Dawn was still far off, but no one could sleep. They crouched about the dim lamp, talking in low whispers and listening with deep interest to Loyd's tale of his adventures in captivity.
Guy was restless, and felt half inclined to make the attack on the fortress at once, but Loyd assured him that fully one-half of the enemy were no doubt in the fortress now and would go forth at dawn to join the attacking party.
Another thing in their favor was this. A large part of the enemy were still absent, scouring the country toward the Sarawong, and up to the time Loyd left they had not returned.
Probably forty or fifty dacoits still remained, Loyd said, and the greater part of these, more from curiosity than from any necessity for their services, would be present at the attack. Subsequent events fully backed up Loyd's assertion.
Before daybreak birds twittered in the jungle and a distant tiger cat or leopard wailed mournfully. The sky paled gradually, the stars vanished one by one, and the ghostly rocks around them took shape and color until the night had faded into the dawn, and they were on the threshold of another day.
Topee had spent half the flight watching at the far end of the cavern, and he now returned with the information that all was quiet and that no further attempt had been made to force open the stone.
It was now fully daylight and yet no sign of the coming storm.
Carew and Terril took their places near the barrier, where they could fire through the crevices in the rocks.
Topee slipped off to resume his watch at the entrance to the fortress, and then placing the rest just inside where they could not be seen, Guy and Loyd took up their position at the mouth of the cavern.
"Keep your eyes on that weak spot on the rocks," whispered Loyd.
The minutes passed in unbroken silence until the suspense became almost unendurable. Then without a second's warning, a black face, surmounted by a white turban, appeared on top of the rocky wall directly over Carew and Vance. Guy's watchful eyes saw it, but before he could raise his rifle Loyd's revolver cracked loudly on the morning air, and with a heavy thud the inquisitive dacoit dropped backward.
Before the echoes of the report had died away, while yet the blue smoke was wreathing upward from Loyd's revolver, a hoarse shout arose from forty or more dusky throats and then faded slowly away.
We must now take the reader back to Melton Forbes, whom we left at the entrance to the tunnel.
It was with feelings of mingled fear and wonder that he passed through this natural gateway in the mountain and entered the crescent-shaped valley. He had barely time to observe the bamboo habitations scattered about and the few dacoits that turned out to meet the procession, when he was brought to a halt before the fortress.
On three sides this great mass of rocks remained in its primitive steep and barbaric condition, but the front entrance had with wonderful skill been rendered massive and imposing.
A flight of steps in the granite rock led up to a platform that rose, fifteen feet above the ground and stretched along the entire front. Four bronze cannon of antique Indian design stood grim guard, two on each side of the steps. A high gateway of polished brass barred access to a deep, gloomy vestibule, carved from the solid rock, beyond which the dim outlines of a pair of massive doors reared themselves from the shadows. The entire frontage, rising proudly to a height of fifty feet, was sculptured with quaint and curious carvings, somewhat similar to the hieroglyphics on an Egyptian obelisk, and from their scarred and weatherworn appearance were doubtless the work of the great Mogok or his predecessors.
Floating its ghastly folds over the summit was planted the black flag.
These details Forbes observed while Dalo ascended the steps and passed through the outer gates and the heavy doors. He was gone but a brief time, and then reappearing, he made a motion to the guards, and two powerful fellows took Forbes by each arm and led him quietly up the steps. He walked with a firm stride, and reaching the platform, he turned and looked across the valley at the great mountains fading in the twilight. His eyes were dim with unshed tears when he turned away for he felt he had looked his last on nature.
Then the brazen gates opened with a clang, they crossed the dark vestibule, passed through the heavy doors that swung apart to receive them and entered a dismal passage about six feet wide, with bare stone walls and ceiling. No dungeon ever looked more gloomy and forbidding.
Hurried along by his guards, Forbes turned first to the left and then to the right, and halted before a massive stone door built in the rock. The corridor was lit by a small bronze lamp that shed a sickly light. The door swung inward, groaning on its hinges, and in an instant Forbes was alone in utter darkness, and the great door had swung into its socket with a dull crash.
He groped his way to the wall and dropped down upon a soft mattress of some kind. He was tired and weary and would gladly have slept, but hope reasserted itself and he made a survey of the room, groping from wall to wall. His dungeon was about thirty feet square, and facing the door by which he had been thrust in, he discovered another door, this time of iron, which was as solid as the rocky walls around it.
He crept back to his mattress and laid down. The troubled thoughts that crowded into his mind prevented sleep and he tossed restlessly, his brain tortured with visions of home and friends, until his dungeon door was suddenly opened and one of the guards entered with a lighted lamp and a tray containing a jug of water and some rice cakes. He placed both on a low stool in the center of the room and silently went out. The lamp shone dimly on the bare, cold walls and the two grim doorways facing each other.
Forbes tasted the cakes and took a sup of the water. Then he went and lay down again, little dreaming of what was even then taking place on the other side of the dungeon wall.
His weary eyes were closing at last, when a thunderous explosion sounded so close at hand that the lamp went out like a shot, and fragments of stone from the walls fell all about him.
Then, as though at a great distance, he heard dimly a noise of shouting and hurrying feet and the rattle of arms. Then they died away and all was silence again.
He listened intently for a while, but could hear nothing. The massive walls entombed him. At last, half persuaded that the loud explosion had been only a delusion, he fell asleep from sheer weariness.
He slept for hours and woke up with a start. The lamp had been lit while he slept and was burning feebly. It must be morning surely, he thought, and then with a bitter pang he remembered that day and night were one to him in that underground dungeon.
Hark! What was that? Only imagination, perhaps, but no -- the iron door was creaking on its hinges. It swung slowly open, and a man advanced quickly to the center of the room. Forbes sprang to his feet.
"Dalo!" he said bitterly. "You vile traitor --"
He paused in wonder. The man was not Dalo. The same glittering eyes, but the face was older, the expression sterner, more cruel than Dalo's, the hair tinged with iron gray.
The stranger wore a purple tunic, and loose trousers. A jeweled scimetar hung at his side. In the twisted folds of his turban shone a diamond of great size.
"By Jove, the great Pandy himself," said Forbes half aloud.
The robber acknowledged this involuntary compliment by a smile that showed his white teeth, a satanic smile full of malignity and deadly hatred. It seemed to pierce Forbes through and through, and he shuddered and moved a little closer to the wall.
"The English sahib is afraid," said the robber scornfully. "He dreads death. He is a coward."
Forbes drew his breath hard, but made no reply. What could be this demon's object in coming to torture him, he wondered? He began to think that Guy had been right, and that this dacoit chief was the actual one time leader of the great mutiny. In no other way could such venomous hatred against the English be accounted for.
The robber chief moved a step closer, but Forbes faced him boldly and sternly. He would show no fear before this vile traitor.
"You would have been dead ere sunrise," the robber went on in perfect English, lingering over each word. "The cannon awaited you. But your friends have given you a reprieve. You English are a rash people. They have dared to enter my dominions and even now my guards are dragging them out from yonder jungle. They cannot escape me. It is well. Tomorrow you will die together. From a cannon's mouth your fragments will be flung in air, and the jackals will have a rare feast."
The robber paused. His lips worked convulsively. His hands were clenched and his eyes shone with a baleful light.
Forbes stared at him in amazement. Was the scoundrel lying, or was he speaking truth, and were the English indeed close by? It would be just like Chutney, Forbes reflected, to have pushed on to the fortress with a handful of men in the rash hope of seizing the chief.
There was one consolation. If it was really Chutney, he would see his old friend again, and perhaps they might find some way of escape yet.
The robber advanced another step.
"Ha! Ha!" he cried in a frenzy. "My dream of vengeance is coming true."
"You fiend," hissed Forbes. "You copper-colored dog! Take your vile presence away."
The robber's eyes glared with uncontrollable fury. He felt for his scimetar with an imprecation, and would no doubt have slain Forbes where he stood in cold blood, but as he drew the blade from its bejeweled scabbard a dull sound of firing suddenly penetrated the silence of the dungeon. A faint outcry followed, a rushing of feet, and then the sharp crack of rifles echoed intermittently through the dungeon walls.
The robber dropped the half drawn blade back into place and stepped toward the door that gave access to the corridor.
With a quick motion Forbes snatched up the stool and retreated to the wall again. His heart was beating painfully. Was it possible the English had penetrated to the fortress? What else could this firing portend? The robber's face showed a strange pallor as he turned to Forbes, and pointing to the iron door said fiercely:
"Follow me."
Forbes only clutched his stool the harder, resolved to remain where he was at all hazards.
The robber's eyes shone with fury.
"Die then," he cried, drawing his blade; but before he could rush at him the iron door opened and in rushed Dalo, his face pale with fright.
He took in the situation at a glance. He seized Pandy's arm and poured out a torrent of Hindustanee, pointing to the door with an appealing gesture.
"What!" cried Pandy furiously, ignoring Hindustanee and bursting into English. "You would have me flee, and leave this dog here to fall into the hands of his friends? No! He must go with us or die."
A furious burst of rifle fire almost drowned his voice, and a loud outcry arose from the corridor.
The robber attempted to rush at Forbes again but finding his appeals of no avail, Dalo threw both arms around him and began by main force to drag him toward the door. He struggled desperately, too angry to listen to reason. Twice he broke loose, but Dalo caught him each time, still imploring and begging him to make his escape, while Forbes looked on in wonder.
"No," shrieked Pandy. "Release me. The dog shall die."
For answer Dalo clung the harder, but Pandy, with one mighty jerk, tore loose, leaving the half of his satin tunic fluttering in Dalo's hands. His naked breast was revealed to Forbes, and there in the dim glow of the lamp was an odd blue mark on the bronze skin.
In that instant all doubt fled from Forbes's mind, and he knew the man before him was Nana Sahib indeed, the slaughterer of helpless women and children, the perpetrator of those fiendish deeds at Cawnpore and Lucknow.
Melton was an Englishman and his mighty indignation swept away all caution, all consideration for his own safety.
"You fiend," he cried wrathfully, pointing to the dacoit's naked breast. "Nana Sahib, I know you now!"
The effect of those few words was marvelous. Dalo's pale face darkened with hatred. He sprang forward.
"Your saber, quick!" he cried to Pandy.
"Flee! Flee! I will finish this dog of an Englishman with my own hands."
He tore the saber from the robber's grasp, trembled under the heavy blow that Forbes dealt him with the stool, and then with a leap like a tiger, plunged forward, and down they went together, just as another burst of rifle fire shook the dungeon walls, and, snuffing out the lamp, left them to struggle in total darkness
We must return now to the little band which we left in such a critical condition at the mouth of the cavern. Loyd's shot was a surprise to the foe, who had anticipated an easy victory. The daring fellow who had crawled up the rocks had been dispatched to the bottom in such haste that he had seen only Guy and Loyd. His injury was probably not severe enough to prevent him from making known this discovery, for the next move of the enemy was a bold and daring one.
They swarmed round to the entrance and began with their hands to pull down the barrier of rocks. In a brief space of time they had torn open quite a glaring hole, and then Carew and Terril, thrusting their rifles into the fissure, coolly emptied their magazines into the dense mass that blocked the little cavern beyond.
The effect of this was terrible and proved conclusively that Loyd was correct when he declared that the place could be held against a little army. Cries and groans mingled with imprecations and howls of rage, and a wild stampede was made through the smoke to the outer jungle, the dead and wounded being allowed to lie where they fell.
Carew and Terril loaded again, in readiness for a fresh attack, but the foe were hardly fanatical enough to walk into the jaws of death again in that fashion.
Presently a volley of bullets pattered harmlessly against the barrier, and was followed soon after by a storm of large stones that recoiled from the rocks instead of breaking down the barrier, as the enemy no doubt expected them to do.
Another interval of watchfulness and then a new move was made by the foe, which, for a brief instant promised to be successful.
Five burly dacoits appeared at once on the summit of the wall, having climbed up, no doubt, by the aid of broken limbs, and as they tossed their legs over the verge, half a dozen more sprang up from behind at the same time.
"Crack! Crack!" Loyd and Guy fired together. One big savage fell over motionless on the wall, another plunged down on the other side with a piercing shriek, and a third toppled headforemost into the little fortress and narrowly escaping Carew's head, lay in a quivering heap on the turf.
Another volley all round, and the wall was clear.
Loyd ejected the empty shells from his revolver and inserted fresh ones.
"The dacoits have learned a severe lesson," he said grimly. "They won't try those tactics over again."
"What will they do next?" asked Guy.
"I don't know," Loyd replied, "unless they send to the fortress for powder and blow up the barrier. It's ten to one they do that very thing too."
"Then our time has come," said Guy. "There can hardly be many of the dacoits left at the fortress."
"You'll not find a better opportunity," said Loyd. "But some one must remain here to keep up appearances. Who is willing to do that?"
"I will, sahibs," said Jung Hadar, who had overheard the discussion and now came forward out of the shadows of the cavern.
"You!" exclaimed Guy in amazement.
"Yes," said Jung, quietly. "I will remain here and prevent the enemy from making an entrance."
"But how will you join us again? We may have fought our way clear out of the fortress when you are ready to leave."
"We can easily arrange that," said Loyd, interrupting him. "Let the Hindoo remain here for about half an hour and defend the place. One man can easily do it. That will give us plenty of time, and then he can join us. If the enemy come at his heels we can easily stop up the hole so they can't open it. You see our only object in keeping a man here is to prevent the dacoits from discovering our tricks and rushing back to the fortress to cut us off."
"I see," said Guy. "We must lose no time in starting. It's a forlorn hope at the best."
"It is indeed," returned Loyd. "But say nothing about that. The men will fight all the better, and if we fail we shall have no cause to blame ourselves."
Guy called his comrades together and addressed them with a few brief words of encouragement. Topee alone showed any nervousness. He was still partly under the impression, however, that Pandy was to be captured, and the thought of the 50,000 rupees overbalanced his fears.
The enemy remained quiet, so Jung placed himself at the mouth of the cavern with his rifle and a pocket full of shells, and then, in single file and headed by Guy, the rest marched past him into the darkness of the cavern.
Never in the records of England's wars had men been in a more desperate position. Shut up in a narrow underground passage, a howling, relentless band of foes behind them, and in front, a fortress which, for aught they knew, was also filled with armed dacoits. And through these perils they had to fight their way, and if perchance fortune favored them and they gained the open air with the released prisoner, they must flee straight into the bosom of the swampy mountainous region that stretched away for miles towards the western coast, a wilderness infested with treacherous beasts, and more treacherous natives.
It was a prospect to cause the heart of the stoutest of them to quail, yet calmly and serenely they marched on, their present thoughts centered on the unfortunate Englishman who languished in Pandy's dungeon.
The feeble light of a candle guided their footsteps through the cavern, and in a very short time the end of the passage was reached and they halted before the iron handled block. Guy shook it but it held firmly in place.
"The scoundrels have fastened it in some way," he whispered.
Then he and Loyd threw their united strength against it, and with a sharp crack it flew back, leaving the entrance half open.
A cry of alarm came from within, and instantly Loyd fired his pistol as the figure of a man dodged out into the corridor, where, as before, a dim light was burning.
"Now, inside quick," he cried, and throwing himself flat, he crept into the arsenal, followed at once by Guy and Carew. Vance was half way through when at least a dozen of the enemy poured up the corridor with hoarse shouts.
The three fired together, and the steady hail of bullets effectually checked the dacoits and drove them back into the corridor, leaving two motionless figures huddled up in the doorway.
Under cover of the smoke Topee, Wood and Chauner effected an entrance. The light in the hall had vanished, and protected by the darkness the enemy drew near enough to fire a straggling volley into the arsenal.
Chauner uttered a sharp cry of pain and staggered against Carew.
"I'm hit," he moaned, feebly. "Don't mind me, though, go ahead."
Topee and Wood had brought torches along, of some resinous wood, and now they lighted them. The powder smoke was still so thick that the walls could be but dimly seen. Carew tore down the soft curtains and placed Chauner gently upon them close to the wall. He was groaning. Nothing could be done for him now, cruel as it seemed.
"Attention," cried Guy in clear, ringing tones. "Waste no shots. Be cool. You are fighting for your lives. And now advance and clear the corridor. The prisoner must be saved."
They swept on to the door in a body, only to be greeted by a heavy fire from the enemy who seemed to be gathered in force without.
Guy dropped but rose to his feet instantly. Loyd clapped his hand to his arm with a sharp cry. It was his left arm luckily.
Then they emptied a return fire into the enemy that raked with deadly effect down the long corridor and drove the foe to the farther end.
It was a fearful moment. The smoke was dense and suffocating. The torches glared through it like street lamps in a heavy fog, cries and groans arose from the wounded, angry shouts echoed from the corridor, and without could he heard dimly a confused roar and the incessant beating of an alarm drum.
In that moment Guy resigned all hope. He was weak and stunned. A bullet had struck the buckle on his belt.
"Save the prisoner! " he shouted, hoarsely, taking the lead and rushing down the passage.
The foe were panic-stricken by this fierce and sudden onslaught. They made another wild rush up the corridor, firing a few straggling shots with no visible effect, and then, as the deadly rifle fire met them half way, they turned and fled, jamming together for an instant at the sharp turn in the passageway, and then vanished from sight, leaving the stone floor strewn with dead and wounded.
Guy snatched a torch from Topee's hand and groped his way down the corridor.
"Here's the door," he cried, excitedly. "Hurry up, men."
The iron handle was joined by chains to a big link in the wall. They locked in some way, for Guy could not pull them open. Then Loyd made a vain attempt.
Suddenly a loud sound came from without, and then shouts and the rushing of feet were heard in the corridor.
"Here's Jung," said Carew, gladly. And Jung it was, powder-stained and perspiring.
"They blew up the barrier, sahibs," he cried, "and rushed in. I gained the fortress in safety, and have thrust the stone in place and driven spear heads and saber blades in the cracks. It will hold for some time."
"Bravely done," cried Guy. "Now fire together, men, when the first dacoits turn the corridor."
That moment came at once, for the enemy were pouring in from the outside, and just as Guy, with a couple of heavy blows from his rifle tore loose the chains a hot fire was poured into the advance guard of the enemy, who had turned the corner.
Guy threw himself against the door, but it refused to yield. "Help," he cried, hoarsely, and Carew and Terril running to his aid, they added their own weight to the barrier and burst it open.
''Are all here!" cried Guy, glaring round into the pale, stern faces. "No, Loyd's missing."
"Here I am," cried a voice close at hand, and Loyd came out of the gloom, half carrying the wounded Chauner.
"Now, in all of you," ordered Guy, and they swept hastily through the doorway into the darkness of the apartment beyond, just as the enemy poured in a mass up the corridor.
The door was banged to, and with a sigh of relief Loyd dropped the bar into the hooks on each side of the doorway. It would be madness to fight their way on out now, for the fortress seemed to be swarming with dacoits.
"Now, then, we'll see where we are," said Guy, and waving the torch he advanced into the room.
"Help! help!" came a feeble cry from the dark shadows of the corner, and as Guy, blinded by powder smoke and dazzled by the glare of the torch, staggered toward the sound, he saw dimly a group of figures struggling on the stone floor.
Like a flash one was up and shot through the open doorway on the opposite side.
A low cry, muttered imprecations, and then, half rolling, half crawling, the struggling figures, tightly clinched, fell almost at his feet. In less time than it takes to tell they burst apart, clinched again, and then, with a desperate leap the larger man tore away, and, bounding through the doorway, slammed the iron door with a crash that seemed to shake the walls.
Some one fired, but too late. The bullet only flattened itself on the iron panels.
"Burst the door open, quick!" cried Guy; but as he sprang forward the man at his feet rose up slowly, and the glow of the torch shone full upon the pale white face, the brown mustache and the dusty, bloodstained uniform.
Guy staggered backward. He breathed heavily. His eyes were fixed and staring, and his face flushed deeper and deeper. The torch quivered in his nervous bands.
"Who is that man?" he demanded loudly with pointed finger. "So like -- but no. He is dead. The dark tide of the Chindwin covers him. Speak!" he cried fiercely, taking a step closer. "Speak -- who are you?"
"Why, Chutney, old fellow, don't you know me?" said the other tremulously. "I'm no ghost, though I dare say --"
"It is Forbes, thank God it is Forbes!" cried Guy, gladly, and he clasped his friend in a warm embrace, too choked with emotion to speak, forgetting their peril, the bloodthirsty fiends around them, and remembering only that his friend had as by a miracle come back to life again.
They held each other's hands, looked fondly into each other's faces until the tumult in the corridor and the hammering on the door recalled them to their senses.
A brief greeting to Carew and Vance, a hasty introduction to Loyd, and then they gathered together to decide speedily what was to be done.
To go back to the corridor was madness. It was choked up with the enemy.
"But what a chance you have missed ! " groaned Forbes. "That scoundrel who was struggling with me -- you saw him break loose -- it was that double-dyed traitor, that black hound of a Hindoo, Dalo --
"What! that Dalo! Here in this fortress?" Guy cried, wonderingly.
"Yes! Here where he belongs," said Forbes, bitterly. "But I have a greater piece of news for you. If you had come an instant sooner what a prize you would have captured! That man who fled like a coward when you first broke in -- and he had cause enough to flee, I admit -- that man was Pandy, the dacoit robber, as all Burma knows him, but I have discovered the truth, and you were right in your suspicions, Chutney. He is none other than the terrible Nana Sahib. I saw the purple mark on his naked breast, and there in the corner lies his saber stuck full of jewels."
Guy groaned aloud.
"And that was Nana Sahib," he cried in anger and vexation. "That fellow who slipped across the room so quickly. What infernal luck!"
Then he turned and shouted eagerly : "The door! the door! Burst it open, quick. We'll get him yet."
He rushed at it furiously and beat against the iron panels.
"No use!" he groaned. "It's fastened tightly."
"It must be burst open, though," cried Loyd. "We dare not stay here. There must be another way out. All together now, and we'll soon fetch it."
With the butt of their rifles they aimed a shower of blows against the solid iron until it bent and trembled.
Fiercer and fiercer, harder and harder, until, unable to withstand the merciless attack, with shivered hinges and cracked bolts, the door burst inward and fell with a crash to the floor.
Like a whirlwind they swept through, Guy in advance with cocked revolver and a waving torch.
The room was empty. The light shone on bare walls, a cold stone floor.
"There lies a doorway on the left," cried Guy, excitedly.
They rushed forward, threw themselves against it, and, to their surprise, it yielded readily.
They halted on the threshold in amazement. Before them was a spacious apartment. Rich carpets and rugs covered the floor, gorgeous curtains hung from the walls, cushioned chairs and soft couches were scattered about a low bed rested in one corner, and on an ebony table stood a silver lamp, burning dimly.
"We've reached the serpent's lair," cried Guy, fiercely. "Search the room."
They rushed in madly. They plunged their naked sabers into the curtains in every corner and recess. They beat the walls with their rifles and dragged the bed and the couches out on the floor. The room was empty.
"He's escaped us. The slippery rascal," cried Guy angrily.
"But where did he go?" said Loyd. "There is no way to get out."
He took his rifle and made another circuit of the room, tapping the walls impatiently. The stones echoed dully at each blow, and then in sharp contrast came a clear, metallic ring.
Guy sprang forward eagerly. He clutched the silken curtains and tore them down from their fastenings, revealing in the wall a small door of polished brass.
With a shout of triumph he threw himself against it, and, to the surprise of all, it yielded as readily as the other one.
"A torch, quick!'' he cried, halting on the threshold, for the interior was dark.
He snatched it impatiently from Topee's hand and rushed in, followed closely by the rest.
If the other apartment had been a revelation, this was ten times more so. The room was not large, but in its appointments and furnishings it would well have passed for a gentleman's library in a London mansion instead of the interior of a barbaric stronghold in Western Burma.
The floor was spread with soft rugs and Persian carpets. The hanging curtains that enveloped the walls were of unusual splendor and richness. A couch stood in one corner; near it was a high case through whose curtains actually peeped the leather bindings of rows of books. In the center of the room was a great mahogany table fitted with drawers. The top held a large silver lamp, richly carved, three or four tobacco jars, a hookah or water-pipe, and half a dozen volumes loosely strewn about.
There was other furniture, too -- a big iron chest half concealed under the curtains, and a massive secretary or writing-desk with heavy locks on the drawer.
But no thought was given to these things in the excitement. They wanted only Nana Sahib, and recklessly they dragged the furniture about and tore aside the curtains. But this room was as bare as the other. The Hindoo had escaped.
A recess at the farther corner of the room was concealed by heavy curtains, and, pulling these away, Guy discovered another door.
"No use," he cried. "You can stop searching. Here is another exit."
They came up and examined it. Topee held the torch close.
"He never went through there," said Loyd. "Why, don't you see it's fastened on this side."
Loyd was right. The door was held by great iron bolts that were rusted in their sockets, and it was very plain that they had not been drawn for months.
Topee examined them with interest.
"Pandy no use this door nowdays," he explained. "Allee same leadee in passageway. One time he use allee timee, now he habee some other way."
"You say this leads to the corridor again. Why, how can that be?" asked Guy bewildered.
"Why, don't you see," replied Loyd. "The four apartment are connected in one continuous passage. This room and the dungeon Forbes was in face on the corridor. That other empty room which we broke into, and Nana Sahib's bedroom, lie back of them."
"Yes, I see now," said Guy. "The mystery deepens. This door has plainly never been opened. Then what has become of the Hindoo? There is a secret passage and we must discover it."
"I believe you are right," said Loyd. "It will be found either here or in the bedroom."
They were about to begin the search when Guy, who had gone out into the other apartment, summoned them with a low call.
"There is but one place we need search for a secret passage," he said triumphantly. "And that is in the empty room back of Forbes's dungeon. Look here," and he pointed to the heavy iron door. "Do you see those bolts? They work from within and work readily too. See how easily they slide. If they had escaped through either of these furnished rooms they would have bolted the door. It is certain then that they vanished through that empty cell."
"That's so, by Jove," cried Loyd. "We must make a search. But hold on. I have forgotten poor Chauner."
He hurried off, followed by Wood, and presently they came back carrying the wounded man between them.
"All seems quiet outside now," Loyd whispered to Guy in passing. "We're done for this time. No escape, so prepare for the last act."
Worked up to a high pitch of excitement by the pursuit of the robber chief Guy had quite forgotten their hopeless situation, and now the shock came with terrible force. Hope there was absolutely none. The tables were turned and they were Nana's prisoners.
He recovered his calmness in a moment, and resolved to show no fear, walked over to the dacoit's bed where Chauner lay, white and still, upon the bed clothes.
Loyd was still binding up a bullet wound in his side.
"Poor fellow," he said. "I guess it's all over with him. Better thus than food for powder though."
They could do little for him. His wound was probably mortal, but he was suffering no pain, and opened his eyes from time to time.
It was Forbes who suggested a hasty survey of the other rooms, and they started off at once with torches.
The iron door between the two empty rooms was too badly damaged for repairs, so they left it lying upon the floor. The stone door leading to the corridor was tightly fastened. Together they went over every inch of the inner room, but without success.
The walls and the floor were of solid stone, and if a secret passage existed, as must be the case, it was beyond their ingenuity to find it.
They gave up the search, and going back to the robber's apartments, held a council to determine what had best be done.
It was pitiful to see how they tried to hope against hope and cheerfully proposed impossible plans.
Guy wanted to sally out at once and either gain the open air or die fighting to the last in the corridor.
Loyd and Carew were of the same opinion, only they were not in such a hurry to throw away their lives.
"It would do as well tomorrow," said Loyd, coolly. "Suppose we take a night's rest on this Hindoo's soft rugs."
But it remained for Forbes to infuse fresh hope into their hearts. He related his adventures from the time he started on that perilous journey down the Chindwin to the capture of the castle by the dacoits.
He held out the encouragement that Bolton might come to their aid with as many of the hill tribes as he could gather at short notice ; and he proposed that they should stand a siege for a few days, and then if no aid came they must calmly submit.
Wild and visionary as this suggestion was, they nevertheless hailed it as a passing straw. The iron door was slammed shut and the heavy bolts were shoved in place. Each man had a pocketful of food. In their eagerness they overlooked the question of water.
The day wore on. Chauner changed neither for better nor worse, but lay in a kind of stupor. The atmosphere of these underground apartments was fresh and cool, a circumstance which puzzled Guy not a little until he discovered, high upon the walls, small windows a foot square which seemed to be cut through the rock to the open air, and to judge from the dimness that filtered through, the thickness of the outer wall must have been immense.
A close search of the bedroom brought to light a prize, a box of English soda water, stolen from some military post of course. They ate a few mouthfuls of food, washed down with soda water, and then more from a desire to pass away some tedious hours than anything else, started in to search the Hindoo's private room under Guy's instructions.
The big silver lamp on the mahogany table was lit and shed a soft radiance over the scene. Every face glowed with excitement and curiosity, and for the present their grave peril was forgotten.
The table drawers were first torn open. They held a supply of paper and envelopes, pens and sealing wax, and down at the bottom of the last drawer, under a stack of paper, Guy found a bunch of faded and yellow documents, which, when opened, proved to be without exception printed proclamations of the year 1858, offering a reward for the capture, dead or alive, of Dandou Pant, commonly known as Nana Sahib.
They bore date at various places, Delhi, Lucknow, Bombay, Benares, Madras, Allahabad.
Guy put these in his pocket without a word. There was no longer any doubt. The fiend of Cawnpore still lived.
The drawers held nothing else of any consequence, and closing them, Guy pulled back the Topee, whose eyes were riveted on the iron-bound chests.
To his surprise, the books were, many of them, recent English publications, works of travel, biography and science. The early education and culture of this Hindoo prince had never deserted him during these long years of exile. He had plotted murders and read history almost in the same breath.
A hasty glance at the titles of the books, and then Guy ordered one of the big chests to be brought out into the center of the room.
Topee and Wood dragged it under the light of the lamp. The brass lock was broken with some difficulty, and as Guy raised the lid, a murmur of admiration burst from all.
The chest was filled to the top with gold and silver plate, chased goblets and bowls of quaint shape and design, and, in fact, all kinds of antique vessels richly engraved, the spoils of many a bold raid and robbery.
The next chest and the next held pretty much the same contents, and Guy began to think that Pandy had acquired possession of all the metal ware in Burma.
The fifth chest was unusually heavy, and by the time they got it under the lamp, Topee and Wood were perspiring liberally. When the lock was broken and the lid raised, a heavy paper covering was revealed, and when Guy tore this impatiently loose, he stepped back in amazement.
It was full to the brim with coins, both gold and silver, English guineas and sovereigns, American eagles, ancient Hindoo coins stamped with figures of the god Brahma, Spanish doubloons, French napoleons, German ducats and silver coins of all kinds. It was a king's ransom in itself, and with a thrill in his heart, Guy plunged his hands into the glittering mass again and again.
Then he straightened up suddenly and slammed down the lid with a bang.
"Take it away," he said half angrily. "It can't purchase us one breath of pure air.''
Topee was all a shiver with excitement and his eyes followed the chest anxiously as it was shoved back under the curtain. It was a mystery how the dacoit ever amassed such a varied store of wealth. The money was mostly of old coinage and in perfect condition.
"It's my opinion," said Forbes, "that he brought it with him from India after the mutiny. It was the remnant of his vast fortune, perhaps."
"It's not likely to do us any good, though," observed Guy. '' Bring on another chest now. We must take a complete inventory of stock while we are at it."
Number six was dragged out, and when broken open proved to be filled up with a varied collection of fine arms. There were oriental daggers in every shape, with scabbards and without, wicked-looking knives and pistols inlaid with mother of pearl. Their value lay in the fact that many of them had gold and silver handles, and some were ornamented with jewels.
The next chest was perhaps the most remarkable of all, for when the lid was opened they were startled to behold a collection of heads -- not human heads, however, but, as close inspection revealed, heads of Burmese idols that had been rudely chopped from their bodies.
Their features were for the most part horrible and repulsive, but in place of eyes and in their foreheads were stuck jewels that sparkled radiantly as they came under the lamplight. The rare and beautiful Burmese catseye was noticeable, and one grimfaced idol displayed on the forehead a pale white stone of enormous size.
"That must be a moonstone," said Loyd. "They are rare and beautiful."
''But why were the heads preserved instead of picking the stones out?" asked Guy.
"For want of time, probably," replied Loyd. "They are fastened securely and great care would be necessary to remove them without injury."
Two more chests contained the same, and then a chest of larger size and somewhat different construction was brought forward. Some trouble was experienced in breaking the unusually heavy lock, but at last the lid was raised, and a spectacle of dazzling splendor revealed to the eyes.
On soft black velvet cushions lay a solid gold service of plate, massive platters, heavy goblets and wine cups, splendid decanters, and many strange vessels all delicately carved with strange Hindoo characters and artistic designs.
The proofs were piling up. Here was the plate that had served at many a banquet in Nana Sahib's stately palace in those careless days of revelry that preceded the mutiny. Wine cups that had touched the lips of brave men and fair women, lips that one short week later were silenced forever by their treacherous host.
"There is enough treasure here to enrich a whole army,"'said Loyd. "Treat your eyes, for it's not likely you'll ever own any of it."
"Put it away," said Guy briefly.
This was the last chest. Some long wooden cases remained, and these, when opened, turned out to contain claret and hock, spoils plundered from some military station. There was also a case of English biscuit that were seized on eagerly.
The day was now far advanced. All seemed quiet outside. No attempt at an attack had been made, and fortified by the possession of the biscuit and the soda water, they dared to hope that some escape would offer yet.
Chauner's condition was more favorable. He had taken a little nourishment, and under Loyd's care his wound was free from inflammation. Loyd himself had received a bullet in the fleshy part of his left arm, but it gave him no trouble.
The treasure chests were piled up in one corner of the room, and Topee at once appointed himself their special guardian. It was strange how the greed for money had stifled the Chinaman's fear.
In the intoxication of having all this treasure within his grasp -- for he was not at all backward in letting it be known that he claimed a share in it, and indeed he deserved it -- he gave no thought to their desperate and hopeless condition, for in spite of Forbes' confident predictions of aid, it was hopeless.
In the surprise and wonder which they felt over the discovery of this vast store of wealth, the secretary in the corner was overlooked, and it was at Topee's suggestion that Guy gave orders to open it.
It was a big, solid structure, made of teakwood, and fitted with brass trimmings and handles. The three lower drawers were easily forced open and contained nothing but a collection of old arms, a lot of ammunition, and several rolls of fine silk and satin.
The upper part baffled them for a long while. No keys could be found in the place, Nana no doubt having them on his person, and the lock was a double one, and of most difficult and ingenious construction.
Every one tried in turn to open it, but their efforts only resulted in snapping off short three or four of their saber blades.
Finally Jung came forward with a short iron bar he had discovered, and getting a good leverage he pried the lock open by main force. The face of the secretary fell forward on hinges, revealing within a nest of drawers fitted with little brass knobs. There were four rows, and each row held eight drawers, There was a general crowding forward as Guy grasped the handle of the top drawer and pulled it open.
A murmur of astonishment burst from all as it slid noiselessly out in his grasp to the length of a foot or more, for it was absolutely filled with loose rubies that glowed a dull red in the light from the lamp.
"They must be the stones stolen from the king," said Guy, recalling to mind Topee's strange tale.
But their amazement knew no bounds when drawer after drawer being opened revealed the same precious burdens. There were literally quarts and quarts of rubies ranging in size from a pea to magnificent stones as large as hickory nuts. Some glowed dully through their rough, unpolished husks, and others flashed back crimson light from a thousand radiations. The last drawer of all held a choice lot of sapphires, each a fortune in itself. Loyd roughly estimated the value of the stones at a million pounds.
Topee's explanation was no doubt true. The royal convoy, conveying the rubies from the mines to Mandalay, had been robbed by the dacoits, not once, but on several occasions, and the whole yield of the mines of Mogok for several years had come into possession of the robber chief.
It all seemed like a chapter from the Arabian Nights to Guy, as he tried to realize the vast amount of wealth contained in that one narrow room.
He closed the secretary lingeringly, as though loath to shut out the sight of those dazzling jewels. The lid dropped into place with a gentle click, and for a moment or two, overcome by their emotions, no one ventured to speak.
Then the spell was rudely shattered, their dream of riches fled. The silence of the room was broken by a cry of human agony,followed instantly by a groan and a heavy fall. The echoes rose and fell and died away, and all was silent as before.
"It's Chauner!" cried Loyd.
In the excitement attending the discovery of the treasure he had been left alone.
With arms ready for an emergency they hurried into the other room, not knowing what to expect.
The wounded man was lying prostrate on the floor. The lamp on the ebony table still burned dimly. Loyd and Guy lifted him tenderly and placed him on the bed and propped him up among the pillows. He was groaning feebly, as though in pain. They put brandy to his lips, and in a moment he opened his eyes. His gaze roamed about the. room with evident alarm, and then his pale, bloodless face took on a more peaceful expression as he saw the familiar faces about him.
"Where is he?" he gasped. "The dacoit?"
"His mind wanders," said Loyd, softly.
The wounded man heard him.
"No, no," he said, with difficulty. "My mind is clear. I saw a dacoit crawling along the floor. I made a noise, and he turned and saw me. He sprang at me -- with -- a knife. I called for -- help, and then I must have -- fallen from --the bed, for -- I remember -- no more. But tell me --"
Suddenly his face paled. He dropped back among the pillows. "The fall has opened his wound," said Loyd, making a hasty examination. "It's a pity. He was getting along so nicely."
"Do you believe what he says?" said Guy.
"No. Certainly not. Besides, how could any dacoits get in here?"
To reassure all, a thorough examination was made again of both rooms, but no trace whatever of a secret passage was discovered, and all were convinced that none existed. Their faith was destined to receive a severe shock before the night was over.
It was necessary to get some rest, if possible, for they were nearly worn out. And now a new difficulty confronted them. The oil in both lamps was very low. No more could be had, and they had left their candles behind as useless.
They finally decided to put out the lamps while they slept. They could be lit at any time, as they all had matches.
Chauner was lying in a stupor, and would likely remain so during the night.
After a hasty lunch they spread themselves out on the rugs to sleep if possible. Their arms lay at their side, for an attack might come at any moment.
Guy proposed that a watch should be kept, but Topee declared that he wanted no rest, and would stay on the lookout while the others slept. It was about nine o'clock in the evening, as nearly as they could judge, when they blew out the lamps and lay down.
Condemned men on the eve of execution often slumber as calmly and profoundly as an infant, and in ten minutes these men were all asleep, utterly oblivious to the deadly peril that compassed them on all sides.
An hour or two later Guy awoke in a cold sweat. He was oppressed by a strange feeling of fear. He sat upright, wiping the moisture from his forehead.
He listened, but all was dead silence, save for Chauner's heavy breathing. Yet the feeling of approaching peril was so strong in him that he could not shake it off. He had fully made up his mind to waken the rest, and take the chances of being laughed at, when a slight noise in the next room caught his ear, and while he waited breathlessly to hear more, a sudden gleam of light appeared beyond the doorway leading to the treasure chamber. The door stood open on its hinges. There was no lock attached to it.
His first impulse was to give the alarm. Then prudence asserted itself, and he rose noiselessly to his feet and tiptoed over the soft rugs to the doorway. A few steps brought him to the curtains that fell across the entrance, and, glancing through their folds, he was amazed to see Topee standing up before the secretary, shading a lighted match between his fingers.
The Chinaman's face expressed passionate greed.
He pried open the lid and dropped it noiselessly back upon its hinges. Then, lighting another match as soon as one went out, he pulled open one of the drawers with a hand that shook from excitement.
Guy had barely time to see that it was the drawer containing the sapphires, when the Chinaman quickly transferred its contents to the capacious pockets of his blouse.
His actions during all this time expressed no fear. He doubtless felt, as was indeed the case, that he had as much claim on those jewels as any one, since it was he who had guided the English to the fortress, and whatever caution he exercised was due to his unwillingness to disturb the sleepers in the next room. He next opened three or four drawers at once, and coolly proceeded to pick out the largest stones.
Guy continued to look on from behind the curtain, undecided whether to confront him or go back and finish his sleep, when a most startling and unlooked for interruption put an end to the little drama.
Two dark figures glided noiselessly behind the unconscious Chinaman, hovered over him for a second, as it seemed to Guy, and then a muscular arm reached out and clasped poor Topee's throat just as the match flared up and expired.
Hardly able to believe that he had seen aright, Guy stood rooted to the spot, while the cold sweat started from every pore, and trickled down his face.
Then came the sounds of a very faint scuffle, a rustling movement over the rugs. Then a brief silence, terminated by a sharp click that gave Guy a thrill of horror.
He still stood like a statue, and presently a feeling of relief surged over him as he reflected that possibly it was Loyd or Jung who had undertaken to give the Chinaman a good scare for his impudence.
But as the utter absurdity of this theory struck him, his fear returned tenfold. He turned back into the room, already feeling in imagination a brawny hand clutching his throat. He rubbed a match on the wall with shaking fingers and held it up.
They were all there -- all but Topee. With his eyes riveted on the doorway, he lit the lamp, and then bent over and shook Loyd's arm, whispering hoarsely:
"Get up, get up! We are in danger!"
They were light sleepers, and Guy's thrilling whisper brought them all to their feet in an iustant. They reached for their arms and found none.
"Where is my rifle?" demanded Loyd. "And mine? and mine?" cried Carew and Vance, while Jung vainly tossed about the rugs.
Guy folded his arms and leaned against the table.
"It's no use," he said, huskily. "We're lost. There is not even a knife or, a revolver left, so we may as well submit calmly. The scoundrels are in the next room now," and he motioned toward the treasure chamber.
They stared helplessly at each other's pale faces, expecting every second to see the curtains flung back and the foe rush in. Topee's absence they did not at first discover.
A minute dragged on, each second like an eternity, but all was silent. The attack failed to come.
"What does it mean?" said Loyd, snatching the lamp and turning toward the doorway. Then he for the first time discovered Topee's absence.
"That heathen Chinaman has turned traitor," he cried.
''He has stolen the arms and let the enemy in on us."
Guy shook his head.
"No, the Chinaman is faithful."
"We'll see about that," went on Loyd, angrily, advancing to the door and pulling aside the curtains.
Guy followed close behind, and as the glow of the lamp shone into the chamber, he saw with stunning surprise that it was empty.
He stared about him stupidly, unable to credit his own senses.
"Where's that Chinaman?" demanded Loyd.
"The rascal is in hiding somewhere. Look! he has been plundering the jewel case. That's what comes of putting any trust in a yellow face Oriental."
"No. I say the Chinaman is all right," insisted Guy firmly. "But search the room.
Don't miss a corner, and then I'll tell you what I saw only a moment ago. I'm beginning to think that this place is under an evil spell."
They all joined in the search eagerly. Every inch of curtain was pulled aside, the rugs were torn up, the furniture was moved about, and then a critical examination was made again of the walls and the floor, but the search proved useless. The Chinaman was gone, mysteriously and unaccountably gone, and the manner of his departure was a deep and dreadful mystery.
"What does this mean?" cried Loyd, in a voice that shook a little. "How can such a thing be? No one has gone out by the door. The bolts have not been drawn."
"You are right," said Guy, solemnly. "No one went out by the door, but three people passed out by a secret passage not ten minutes ago, and that secret passage is in this very room."
A shiver of fear passed over them as Guy made this startling assertion
Then he briefly related what he had seen from the time the voice woke him until the match went out on that silent struggle.
"It was no treachery on Topee's part, I assure you," he said. "He was taken by the throat in order to prevent any outcry."
Those two dacoits must have crept in here while we slept and removed all our arms. They were here in hiding when Topee opened the desk, and, as there was danger of detection, they took the Chinaman along. Now deny if you can that there is a secret exit."
''It baffles me," said Forbes. "This is the deepest mystery I ever struck. The facts won't reconcile. See here, now. Granted that there is a secret way out. Tell me why Nana Sahib and Dalo did not make their escape through here yesterday!"
"Perhaps they did," said Guy.
"Then tell me why they left the door unbarred, the bolts unslipped. Do you suppose they would have given us free access to these private apartments containing the robber's wealth and proof of his identity with Nana Sahib? No! They did not escape through here. They passed out by some exit from the empty room yonder.
"Now," he added, convincingly, "that settles that. Here comes another problem more puzzling than the other: If there is a secret passage from this very room, why didn't the enemy swarm in, why didn't they overpower us while we slept? Why did they only take our arms as we lay here defenseless? Mind I don't deny the existence of that passage. I deny nothing. Guy is telling the truth, for there stands the secretary open, the drawer of sapphires empty, and where is Topee? Where are our arms? Are they in the room? No! There is a deep and fearful mystery here, and I'm all in the dark. I can't see any solution."
Forbes stopped for want of breath, and threw himself down on a couch. Guy walked over and closed the lid of the desk.
"That secret passage must be found," he said.
"It's no use searching any longer," replied Loyd coolly. "These things are so cleverly constructed that none but those in the secret can find them."
"By Jove," cried Forbes, suddenly jumping up from the couch, "I have the key to part of the mystery. Nana Sahib and Dalo had the best of reasons for not making use of the exit. It only opens from the outside.''
Forbes' reasoning was no doubt correct. At all events, it was the only possible explanation that would hold water.
As further proof in its favor Jung declared that he had seen in the palace of the Rajah of Mysore just such passages that worked by a spring and gave entry from the outside. He was unable to furnish any clew that would be of assistance. Some opened from the walls, he said, and some from the floor, and were always ingeniously hid.
They held a short and solemn discussion which resulted in a determination to remain in the treasure chamber and keep a constant and vigilant watch, hoping thus to guard against an attack by way of the secret passage.
The startling and mysterious events that had taken place made their situation one of painful uncertainty. They knew not at what moment the room would be filled with armed dacoits. The loss of their arms destroyed the last hope. They must tamely surrender whenever it suited the pleasure of this Hindoo robber. It did not occur to them that they were prisoners already, yet it was virtually, the fact. They might be led up to the cannon's mouth at any moment.
It was hailed as a happy omen when Guy remembered the chest full of old arms. They hauled it out, and rummaged the contents. Each man took a saber or a dagger. The pistols were of old design, made to load at the muzzle, and were consequently useless. The possession of these jeweled weapons raised their hopes a degree or two. For several hours all was quiet. The lamp burned steadily, for there was peril in darkness. In the next room Loyd watched at Chauner's side.
"Look, the morning has come," said Guy, pointing to the crevice far up in the wall that let a breath of fresh air into the treasure chamber.
It was too narrow and deep to afford a glimpse at the sky, but a faint glow of light quivered at the entrance, the only sign of day that ever reached the interior of those dungeon chambers They turned their gaze up to it with intense longing. It was hard to believe that beyond those gloomy walls of stone the sun was shining and the birds were singing
"Chutney, come here a moment." It was Loyd calling from the next room.
Guy hurried over. Chauner was still unconscious, his usually pale face flushed a deep red.
Loyd was standing by the door. He held up a warning finger when Guy approached, and then moving a step forward, whispered:
''Bring all the men over here. Something is going to happen."
Guy lost no time in obeying instructions, though be could see no cause for alarm. They abandoned the treasure chamber at once, taking the small lamp with them. Loyd was greatly agitated.
"I think they are going to make an attack," he explained, hurriedly. "I heard low voices and the moving of feet beyond the door just now. Something heavy was pulled across the floor. If the attack comes, push all the furniture in the room against the door.
His suspicions were only too correct. Before he could say more the silence of the room was broken by a crashing blow against the iron door. Then another and another, in rapid succession, until the stout iron threatened to break, and the bolts cracked and bent.
"Bring the furniture, quick," cried Guy.
"The chests," added Loyd. "Bring the chests."
The thunderous blows rained down faster than ever, and it was evident the door would soon yield. With frantic haste, the big ironbound chests of treasure were dragged in and piled up against it until the barricade rose over the top of the door.
The attack went on without cessation. The dacoits were using a battering ram of hard wood evidently, and "Crash! Crash! Crash!" they hurled it against the door, while every stroke seemed to be louder and more violent.
"If the iron chests won't hold it, nothing will," said Guy.
"Ah, the fiends! If we only had our rifles," he added, between his set teeth.
The terrific concussions, echoing through the pent up chamber, roused Chauner from his stupor. He pulled himself upright and stared fearfully around him with glassy eyes and fevered cheeks.
Forbes and Loyd picked up bed and all and carried it to the far end of the room. Chauner muttered some broken sentences and fell back on his pillows.
The foe paused for a brief breathing spell and then renewed the attack with fierce desperation.
The battering ram smote the door with a steady, regular movement. The very walls seemed to tremble and shake, the door groaned and quivered, the massive bolts cracked in their fastenings, the hinges creaked, and the barricade of chests rattled their ironbound sides. Everything was giving way together.
Another furious storm of blows, then one fearful crash, followed by a mighty roar and rumble, and without a second's warning the great pile of chests toppled over in one common ruin, dragging Carew down with them. The money chest had been on top, and, burst open by the concussion, the golden shower poured down like hailstones, leaping and rolling to every corner of the room. The lamp went out, but the brief span of darkness vanished before the glare of a dozen torches, and with triumphant shouts the dacoits poured in through the broken door, leaping and climbing over the pile of chests.
Their faces were dark and sullen in the red glare and they carried only long, heavy spears. They were led by a stranger, a black giant with an ugly, scarred face.
"Throw down your arms," he cried in English, as he saw the glitter of their daggers.
The men hesitated and drew back to the end of the room.
''What shall we do, Loyd?" Guy asked in a low voice, but before the other could reply the daccit leader shouted out some order and the enemy poured down over the chests and into the room.
The struggle was short and brief. Sabers and daggers were of no use against those long, heavy spears. They made a short defense, but at the very beginning Guy's saber was struck from his grasp, Loyd was stunned and knocked down by a heavy blow from a spear, and with no serious injury on either side, the conflict ended, the victory with the enemy.
The Englishmen had played a desperate game, staking life, home, friends, everything against fearful odds, and now they had lost. Nana Sahib was the victor, a victor who would give as much mercy as a wounded tigress would offer to the slayer of her cubs.
"Bind them," said the black giant grimly, and he looked on approvingly as heavy iron manacles were locked on their wrists.
The dacoits performed the work with savage exultation, and were only hindered from offensive insults by the presence of their dreaded leader.
It was a strange scene, the flickering glare of the torches, the yellow light shining fitfully on the heavily curtained walls, the smashed and shattered door, hanging on its hinges, the scattered chests gaping apart, the floor strewn with heaps and heaps of goiden coin, the pale faces of the prisoners, the dark, sullen countenances of the foe, and in the background the motionless form of the wounded man lying among his pillows.
Carew had been for the moment forgotten, but a low moan attracted the enemy's attention, and they pulled him out from three or four chests which completely covered him. He was unconscious, and Guy really feared that he was dead. He could not help thinking that it were better so, for nothing but death could await them in the end.
The dacoits pulled the chests out of the way, casting many a lingering glance at the coin scattered on the floor, but not daring to touch a piece. Then the prisoners were roughly shoved from the room and taken to the dungeon facing the corridor.
They were left here under guard while the rest went back and presently returned carrying Chauner and Carew on a soft mattress. They deposited this in the corner and then retired, leaving a lamp burning on the stool.
The whole affair had been carried out very quickly, An hour ago they had been sleeping peacefully on soft rugs. Now they lay on a stone floor with irons on their wrists. The door had been repaired and securely fastened.
They had not been left alone five minutes when two dacoits came in with a vessel of water and a roll of linen. They took the irons off Guy's wists.
''Now, sahib," said one of them, "attend to your friends. That one," pointing to Chauner, "is very bad. No get well. That man," and he motioned toward Carew, "no much hurt."
Guy gladly availed himself of this permission, though he only too well divined its object.
The dacoit proved to be right, for a dash of cold water brought Carew round very shortly, though he was badly bruised all over. When his arm was moved he cried out with pain, and on examination it was found to be broken at the wrist. At Guy's bidding the dacoit brought in a thin board, which was speedily converted into splints, and after some trouble the arm was set and hung in a sling, an operation which called for much fortitude on Carew's part. Chauner still lay in a stupor, opening his eyes in a vacant manner from time to time.
As Guy finished bandaging the broken arm, the big dacoit who had led the attacking party came in. and to the surprise of all ordered the irons to be removed from the prisoners' wrists. This was done, and then the guards retired, closing the door tightly behind them.
For a while they kept their misery to themselves. It was only too plain that the last glimmer of hope had now fled. Forbes paced the room nervously, blaming himself continually for being the cause of all their misfortunes, for he knew by this time that they had thrown away almost certain safety to attempt his rescue.
He calmed down after awhile, and the party forgot their hopeless situation in discussing all that had happened since that terrible night before Balet, a night that, viewed in the light of recent occurrences, seemed ages ago.
"There is no hope to be looked for from Cubit?" asked Forbes.
"None," groaned Guy. "Buller won't look for any news from us for some days yet."
"Is there no hope of Nana Sahib accepting a ransom for us?" questioned Carew from his position on the mattress.
Boyd laughed scornfully.
"A million of rupees would not tempt him. What can he want with more treasure than he has now? Ah, no," he continued, in a grave tone. "Since you have unmasked the identity of this dacoit chief, I can understand many things that were enigmas to me before. His hatred of the English is fearful. He is a monomaniac on that subject; and now that he has us in his clutches the world would not buy his revenge. Don't lean on false hopes. We are all doomed. Even now the black flag waves from the fortress."
A moment's silence, during which every face paled, and then Guy said, huskily:
''I would like to know what Dalo does here. There is a deep mystery connected with that Hindoo. It began with poor Hassam's murder at Mandalay. Then came the murderous attack on Forbes, and here, when we reach the fortress, we find him, arrived before us."
"And the resemblance,'' added Forbes. ''He and Nana Sahib are much alike."
"Nana Sahib is older," said Guy, thoughtfully. "He must be sixty years old at least. Dalo is much younger. But the strange part lies in the fact that all the time he was with me he never went near Burma"
"Did he never receive any letters?" interrupted Loyd,
"Yes," replied Guy. "I recollect now he did. Letters came at intervals, some postmarked Rangoon, others Chittagong."
"Listen! here comes some one," broke in Carew, and the conversation ceased.
The door opened to admit two guards, who silently placed a platter of cakes on the floor and a jug of water. Then singling out Jung Hadar, they beckoned him to follow them.
The Hindoo hesitated a moment. He knew only too well what that summons meant. His face never changed its calm, passive expression. He turned to Guy and silently held out his hand. Guy grasped it warmly while the tears rushed to his eyes. A deep friendship had unawares sprung up between this brave, quiet Hindoo and the young English officer, a friendship that had been cemented by their common perils.
Jung shook each man's hand in turn, and with a quiet "Farewell, sahibs," the guards led him away, and the iron door closed on him before they realized that he was gone.
The imminence of their own fate was brought vividly before them by this little occurrence.
"Poor Jung," said Guy. "He was a brave fellow. Why do you suppose they are taking him away, Loyd?"
"They are going to shoot him probably," answered Loyd, gloomily. "Pandy reserves his exquisite tortures only for the English. However, Topee will probably taste some rare torments. He is a traitor, and Pandy will hold no punishment too severe for him."
"The Chinaman's fate lies at my door, too," thought Guy, sadly. "But do you really think that Nana Sahib will kill Jung?" he continued, presently. "You know they are both Hindoos."
Loyd laughed bitterly.
"Do you suppose Nana Sahib will allow any one to live who knows his secret?" he replied.
"This is horrible," cried Guy, and rising up he paced up and down the dungeon, trying to collect his thoughts and prepare for the fate that was so close at hand.
It was curious to note how differently each one was affected. Loyd assumed a coolness and recklessness that was only skin deep, for his face was pale, and his eyes were shaded by purple rings. Vance and Carew sat leaning against the wall, apparently watching the wounded man between them. Forbes was pacing the room tugging nervously at his long mustache, his brown eyes flashing, while over in a far corner the picture of despair sat Wood, his face buried in his hands.
"If only there was a way to send word home," said Guy, halting abruptly, and then he resumed his march again.
Like tigers pacing their narrow cages, he and Forbes passed and repassed until they stopped from weariness. Their attention was now diverted by Chauner. He opened his eyes and called feebly for something to eat. His fever had gnoe [sic] down and his brow was quite cool.
"I believe he will get well," said Loyd, holding a cup of water to his lips, which the wounded man drank eagerly, and then he added, "What a mockery it seems! To talk of his getting well. Far better that he die," and he looked half enviously at the wounded soldier.
Then he examined the wounds, and forgetting his words of but a moment previous, exclaimed: "I must have fresh bandages if his life is to be saved."
He hesitated an instant, and then going over to the door struck a couple of blows on the stone. It was opened instantly by a stalwart dacoit who gruffly inquired, "What sahib want?"
"I want fresh linen for that man there," said Loyd, and he pointed to Chauner.
The dacoit glanced in and said, scornfully, "No good. Man no get well."
While this colloquy was going on the rest had all pressed close to the door straining their eyes into the lighted corridor where half a dozen more dacoits were to be seen standing about armed to the teeth.
A couple of heavy chains permitted the door to swing in a distance of half a foot, just as the door of a prisoner's cell is arranged when the inmate is allowed an interview with a friend outside. As the dacoit hesitated over Loyd's request, a sudden tramping of feet was heard down the corridor. Then a harsh voice called out some order, and instantly some confused sound of gruff voices was heard, a piteous cry, a wail of mingled terror and entreaty.
Guy started, for the sound was strangely familiar. Then came the harsh voice again in commanding tones, and the same imploring cry repeated over and over, and each time coming closer, while the steady tramp of feet echoed louder and louder up the corridor.
The guards outside quickly ranged themselves along the wall, in their haste forgetting to draw the dungeon door tight, and pressing their faces against the narrow opening the prisoners within awaited anxiously what was coming.
Their suspense was brief. The sullen footsteps rapidly approached, and soon directly past the doorway marched half a dozen dacoits, among them one or two Chinamen.
Close behind, with firm and steady tread, walked Jung Hadar, looking neither to right nor left, but staring haughtily and fearlessly before him.
Hark! That piteous cry again; and now come two big guards, half dragging, half carrying the limp form of Topee. His yellow skin is drawn and pinched with agony, his eyes are glassy and swollen with terror, his limbs tremble and totter with fear, and from his blue, parted lips comes that heartbreaking cry, forced out by the near prospect of a terrible doom.
Close behind are men with iron bars, and sharp-pointed spikes, dread implements of unknown intent.
The end of the procession passes by, winding into the darkness of the arsenal across the corridor, and as the dungeon door is suddenly jerked shut with a clang, the unbidden spectators of this portentous scene draw backward and stare helplessly at each other with eyes that reflect back unutterable horror and lips that refuse to speak.
Guy for the first time covered his face with his hands and walked across the room. How could he ever reconcile his thoughts to death with these awful scenes brought up before him ? The sight of those two victims -- the Hindoo and the Chinaman? -- marching to their doom seemed burned in letters of fire upon his eyes. He could not shut the sight out.
"What are they going to do with them?" he asked, huskily, of Loyd.
Loyd shook his head.
"Don't ask me," he said, in a hoarse whisper. "It's too horrible to speak of. Brace up, Chutney. It will soon be over now."
"It's not that," said Guy, with a strange glitter in his eyes. "I don't mind the cannon. But our friends at home and at Rangoon and Mandalay. They will never know our fate. If one could only send some word -- some message" He turned abruptly away and walked to the other end of the apartment.
Suddenly a confused sound was heard in the corridor, the rumbling of wheels and the heavy clank and rattle of bars.
It passed the door, grew fainter and fainter as it receded down the corridor, and finally ceased altogether.
"Will these tortures never end?" cried Guy, angrily.
"It's the cannon," said Forbes, softly. "They are taking it outside from the arsenal."
"That makes five," muttered Loyd half to him. self. "Five brass cannon."
Then looking about the room he added: "Seven men and five cannon. That won't do."
Forbes turned on him impatiently.
"You and Chauner are probably not included," he said. "Chauner is more dead than alive now, and as for you Nana's hatred applies only to Englishmen."
Forbes spoke more in jest than earnest, but Loyd's face brightened at the suggestion. Then it clouded up again.
"Little hope of that," he said, gloomily, "I may be the first one summoned."
Even as he spoke, the door was suddenly flung open, and the big dacoit with the scarred face entered.
He glanced haughtily over the room, and then cried out loudly "Where is Sahib Captain Chutney?"
Guy came forward.
"I am the man you look for," he said, quietly.
"Then come with me," said the dacoit. "It is the chief's orders."
With pallid face Guy turned to his friends a mute, appealing glance. He really believed that he was going to his doom, and so did the rest, for they clustered about him in an eager endeavor to clasp his hand.
With calm endurance, he passed through all the agonies of parting. Forbes held him to the last, but the dacoits shoved him roughly aside, and in an instant the door had closed behind them and they stood in the corridor. The guards lazily made way for them, regarding Guy with but little interest, a fact which he noted as favorable. Then he followed his conductor quickly down the corridor.
They made two turns, the last one bringing them before a pair of heavy doors which stood slightly ajar, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of sunlight and green trees without.
Then his guide flung open a door on the left that he had not observed and motioned him to enter. As he stepped over the portal the door was tightly closed behind him and he found himself in a large apartment furnished with several couches, a chair or two, and a table on which rested a lamp burning dimly.
A man sat on a couch on the opposite side of the room, and as Guy entered he turned up the lamp, revealing by the act the dark features of Dalo. For a brief space the two confronted each other, the Hindoo calm and severe, Guy scornful and indignant.
Dalo broke the silence.
"Pray be seated," he said, with an appealing gesture.
"In the presence of traitors I prefer to stand," answered Guy, curtly, struggling hard to keep down his rising anger.
The Hindoo's face flushed a shade darker, but he kept his temper.
"As the sahib pleases," he said, briefly. "Are you surprised, Sahib Chutney, that I have sent for you?"
"Surprised!" and Guy laughed scornfully. "I am surprised at nothing, you murderer, assassin --"
"Stop!" commanded Dalo, sternly. "I was justified in all that I did. But I am not here to discuss these things. I would save your life even as you once saved mine. Think not that I am forgetful."
"And my companions, will you save them, too?" cried Guy, eagerly.
Dalo shook his head.
''I can do nothing. It is you alone I can save. The others must die."
"No! no!" cried Guy, imploringly. "You can surely save them if you wish. Aid us to escape, Dalo, and whatever reward you may claim you shall have it."
The Hindoo drew himself up proudly.
"I wish none of your rewards," he said. "I told you I could do nothing. I speak the truth. Sooner could I move this fortress by my own hands than save the life of one of yonder English. You alone I can save, and that on one condition only. I have no love for the English, Sahib Chutney, but I owe you my life, and the time has come to pay the obligation."
The Hindoo hesitated a moment, and then, evading the question, continued: "I could have foretold the result of this wild enterprise of yours, Sahib Chutney, but it would have been of no avail. It was madness to measure strength with Pandou --"
"Nana Sahib, you mean," interrupted Guy. "Call the villain by his right name. The mask has been torn off at last."
"As you have it," replied the Hindoo, with a dangerous glitter in his eyes. "The Rajah Nana Sahib then. You do well to boast of tearing off this mask. It has brought you to the cannon's mouth and your ill-gotten secret will die with you. You have wasted your lives for nothing. Yes, I admit it," hissed Dalo, with suppressed fury, "this dacoit chief, the terror of all Burma, is the Rajah Nana Sahib, the leader of the great mutiny, the rightful heir to a stolen kingdom. But none will know it. The red flag floats from the fortress now, and at sunrise the tongues that could whisper that secret will be stilled forever."
''And you?'' cried Guy. "What tie connects you with this bloodstained assassin of women and children?"
The Hindoo's eyes glittered and his face darkened with wrath.
"Silence, sahib," he cried in thunderous tones. "Restrain that babbling tongue. Revile once more the rajah, and by Great Brahma, I'll slay you like a dog."
Guy looked him coolly in the face. Perhaps he hoped the Hindoo would carry out his threat.
"As for you," continued Dalo more calmly, "I feel little wish to spare you, but a promise is a promise. I have begged your life from the rajah, and my prayer was granted. There is a condition attached to it. Your fate is in your own hands."
"Name the condition," said Guy.
"It is this," replied Dalo. "You will swear by all that you hold most sacred never to reveal to living man that Nana Sahib still lives. And never again to take up arms against him or give to any person information which will put him in peril or threaten the discovery of his secret. Moreover, you will declare to the English that the dacoit chief Pandy is now dead and will no longer trouble the country."
"And if I swear, what then?" asked Guy.
"The English are men of honor," answered Dalo coolly. "They can be trusted. If you will take this oath on an English Bible, then you will be escorted to a place on the Chindwin River from whence in half a day you can reach your friends at Balet."
The Hindoo paused and watched him to note the effect of his words.
For a moment, as the full force of Dalo's speech impressed itself upon his mind, Guy's brain grew dizzy.
It was a terrible temptation that presented itself.
On the one hand was death in its most awful form, death at the dawn of another day. On the other was life and freedom, restoration to home and friends.
But what a fearful price to pay. How could he go back among his fellow officers with a lie on his lips and such a burden of treachery in his heart? How could he dare to purchase freedom on those terms, and leave his friends to die, his brave companions who had risked and lost their lives on this mad enterprise of his own proposing? And could he ever associate with his fellow men again, knowing all the time that by his silence he was shielding the man most justly hated and execrated by all England, the fiend of Cawnpore, the renowned and long sought for Nana Sahib? Why, life on these conditions would be one long torment.
Yet to die -- to be blown to fragments from a cannon's mouth, that, too, was horrible.
The struggle within his mind was fierce and long. Seeing nothing, hearing nothing, he stood with clinched hands, and Dalo watched him all the while, marveling at the look of agony that passed from time to time over his features. Then all in a moment his decision was made, and he shuddered at his own weakness.
"You fiend," he cried, hoarsely, taking a step forward, "why do you tempt me this way? Begone! I am an Englishman, and honor, if nothing else, would save me from your infamous offer. I refuse to take the oath. Do your worst, but mark my words, a day of retribution will come."
Guy's voice failed him. He folded his arms and walked to the door.
Dalo watched him with an inscrutable expression upon his dark features. He had probably expected this decision. His acquaintance with English officers had taught him this much. Yet in making this offer he was sincere. He had a deep friendship and regard for his English master, and he had cherished a faint hope perhaps that Guy would accept freedom upon these terms. To do more was out of his power. Marvelous indeed must have been his influence over the rajah to obtain even this concession.
Realizing the uselessness of more words, and bowing low -- a tribute of admiration -- he said briefly: "The sahib has chosen. I can do no more."
He rapped on the table and the guard opened the door. Guy turned once on the threshold. Dalo was standing motionless in the shadow of the wall.
"At sunrise?" he asked.
The Hindoo only nodded, and without another word Guy followed the guard up the corridor and entered the cell.
He was welcomed as one from the dead. But he was in no humor to give any explanations. He simply told them that Dalo had wished some information, and then began to pace the floor trying to get his thoughts into some kind of order and brace himself for the ordeal in the morning.
The rest sat hopelessly in the corner. Chauner was sleeping peacefully.
For several hours not a word was spoken. Each was busy with his own thoughts. It was late in the evening and without all was quiet. At last Guy broke the silence.
"Prepare yourselves," he said, huskily. "It's at sunrise. Don't deceive yourselves with any false hopes.''
No reply, only a low moan from Wood, who seemed to be breaking down.
Guy paced the floor an hour longer, and then, weary and exhausted, threw himself down beside Forbes, who was tossing in a restless slumber. Carew, too, was asleep, and Loyd and Vance were talking in whispers over in the corner.
The hours passed on, the lamp burned dimmer and dimmer, and at last Guy, too, sank into repose.
At midnight all were sleeping. It was no peaceful slumber, to judge from their restless tossings and the incoherent mutterings that escaped their lips.
The lamp had gone out, but it was replaced with a fresh one by a tall dacoit, who threw a malignant glance at the sleeping figures and then glided off unperceived.
Mysterious sounds began to penetrate the dungeon walls from without, footsteps echoed continually along the corridor, and the low roll of a brazen drum was heard faintly in the distance.
The sleepers never awoke. Without the blackness of the night was fleeing before the glow of dawn, and the animals of the forest were seeking their lairs.
But inside day and night were one, and the yellow lamplight shone on the cold stone walls. The dungeon door opened to admit an attendant with a jar of fresh water and a platter of cakes, and the creaking of the hinges woke the sleepers.
Their faces were haggard and white, and showed plain traces of great mental suffering. Wood lay on the mattress and refused to rise.
Loyd sat against the wall, his face buried in his hands, and Vance sat beside him, vainly offering consolation.
Forbes and Guy were strangely calm and cool. They had nerved themselves for the ordeal, and arm in arm they paced the floor, conversing in low tones. Chauner was awake and fully conscious, but Carew complained of great stiffness from his bruises and leaned back against the wall white and pale.
Outside all was quiet, but Guy knew that it was only the calm before the storm. He had a very unpleasant duty to perform, and the sooner it was over the better.
"The time is close at hand," he said, firmly, walking across the room. "It is better that you should know it and prepare as far as possible. I can only bid you remember that you are British soldiers. I know you will die bravely."
They looked up with white, stern faces, and Wood groaned aloud. Guy would have said more, but his voice choked and he turned away.
The next ten minutes passed in silence. Each man was occupied with his own thoughts. The near approach of the end, and the certain knowledge that all hope was now gone had a calming effect. They faced the inevitable.
All too soon the silence was cut short by a steady tramp, tramp up the corridor. The door was flung open, revealing a multitude of dark faces, and then a dozen sturdy dacoits entered the dungeon.
"Make ready, sahibs," said the leader.
He signaled to his men, and laying hold on Guy first, they proceeded to bind his arms from the elbow down with heavy cords.
Forbes was next, and they proceeded with the rest in turn. They all stood the ordeal nobly. Even Wood had regained some of his courage, and faced his guards bravely, though he was too weak to stand alone.
In five minutes all was ready, and the order to move was given.
They passed into the corridor, marching between two files of armed guards, and soon Guy, who was ahead, saw the clear light of day shining through the half open doors. The glare dazzled his eyes, and when the blindness had passed he found himself on the spacious stone platform that fronted the fortress.
His eyes wandered with infinite longing to the great purple peaks bathed in the glow of the rising sun and the patch of jungle and palm trees that stretched away to their base. He hardly saw the vast open space before the fortress, the stone steps leading to the ground and the dark, swarthy forms that crowded close up to the platform.
His thoughts were far away. Before his eyes were faces of friends at home. Then they faded and vanished, a mist came before his eyes, and when he looked again he saw the fierce, vindictive countenances of his captors and the row of cannon ranged along the platform, their dark muzzles facing the sunrise.
A low murmur rose from the assembled dacoits, and then the crowd at the edge of the platform fell apart and a man ascended the steps, a tall, majestic figure clad in purple, with a glittering scimetar at his waist and a turban coiled on his head.
Guy drew himself up proudly yet with an irrepressible shudder, for he knew this was Nana Sahib. It was his first view of the famous mutineer. The light of triumph shone in his dark eyes, and his face fully indexed his revengeful passions. It was a proud and haughty face, and now Guy too saw that same close resemblance to Dalo, though this man was much older.
The guards drew back from the little group of victims, leaving them alone in front of the doorway, and Nana Sahib strode up before them.
"There are but six here. Where is the other?" he cried.
The captain of the guards bowed low.
"He is sick, your Royal Highness. He is unable to walk."
"Bring him hither on his mattress," Nana Sahib commanded, sternly, and presently the dacoits appeared in the doorway carrying poor Chauner on his bed. The wounded man was fully conscious, and looked about him with wondering glances. Then a solemn hush fell on all the people.
Nana Sahib made a brief signal to the guards, and seizing the prisoners, they led them quickly up to the cannons, which stood three on each side of the steps at intervals of three or four yards apart. They took Guy up to the farther end of the platform, and placing his back directly against the gaping muzzle, they bound him round and round with cords so that any movement was impossible. His head was free, and turning sideways he saw Forbes bound to the next cannon, and beyond him Carew, while on past the steps the guards were fastening up Vance and Loyd. Wood was already tied, and hung in utter prostration in his cords, his head sunk on his breast.
Guy's emotions at this period were terrible. He tried to face the end bravely, and breathing a silent prayer he held his head erect, staring coolly down at the sea of upturned faces.
He noted with some surprise that probably a hundred dacoits were present, not including the guards on the platform. He searched for Dalo in vain. The preparations were now completed. The guards left the platform and Nana Sahib was alone with his victims.
It was the supreme moment of his life. His eyes shone and his face was flushed with triumph. He waved his hand to the people and a great hush fell on them all. The silence was deep and terrible.
He stood for an instant at the head of the steps scanning the six motionless figures bound to the cannons.
Then he began to speak, slowly and deliberately, in perfect English, in a voice only intended for his hapless victims:
"Thirty-two years ago," he said, raising his right hand, "twenty of my own people, my own friends, suffered the death that you will die today. At the hands of you English, a people who prfoess [sic] to abhor cruelty, they were barbarously blown to fragments from a cannon's mouth outside the walls of Delhi. I took an oath of vengeance on that day, an oath that has waited long for fulfillment. You dogs of English, today my vengeance begins. My eyes shall feast on your tortures. One after another your mangled bodies shall be blown in air, and tonight the jackals shall feast on your carcasses. You are brave men, you say. You lie. You tremble at your fate. Look at yonder fear-smitten wretch," and he pointed scornfully at Wood, who still dangled helplessly from the cannon's muzzle.
He turned abruptly and waved his hand. The crowd parted and up the steps came six dacoits, each man holding aloft a lighted torch.
They took their places each behind a cannon ready to touch off the fuse at a given signal, and the multitude below drew back from the edge.
The agony of that moment was fearful. Guy could feel the hot air from the blazing torch, In a second or two all would be over.
He stared helplessly at the distant mountains. the eager, expectant faces almost at his feet. Then he turned his head and saw his unfortunate comrades waiting with apparent calmness for the dread moment.
Motionless as statues stood the torch bearers, their dark eyes fixed expectantly on Nana Sahib, who, with fiendish hatred, stood watching his helpless victims, hoping for some further evidence of fear or weakness on their part over which he might gloat.
A minute dragged along in deep silence. Guy's head seemed bursting open, but with a supreme effort he held himself up firmly. He glanced to one side and met Forbes' gaze.
"Goodby, Melton," he tried to whisper to him, but his voice choked with emotion. He saw Forbes' lips move, but heard nothing. With a little shiver, he closed his eyes and breathed a prayer.
Off in the jungle a bird began to sing sweetly, and its notes rose on ihe fresh morning air.
It ceased suddenly, and almost before the last lingering melody had died away the sharp, sullen crack of a rifle shattered the silence and the torch bearer behind Guy sprang into the air and dropped down in a limp heap upon the platform.
Crack! crack! and two more gunners fell with shrill cries of agony, and the blazing torches went out against the stones.
Another sharp report and Nana Sahib himself clutched his arm with a cry of pain, and spinning round and round plunged down the steps. The torch bearers behind Loyd and Vance sprang forward in a vain attempt to catch him, dropping their torches as they ran, and then the big dacoit at Wood's side was shot down in the same mysterious manner just as he was in the act of lighting the fuse that was to blow a fellow being to atoms.
One hoarse, deafening cry burst from the foe as they perceived what had happened, and all eyes were turned to the very top of the fortress, where the red flag waved dimly through floating clouds of rifle smoke.
A brief pause and then a howl of rage rose from a thousand throats, and changed as suddenly to cries of fear and agony as the thunder of artillery bellowed through the valley and hot lead belched from three score of rifles, while from the jungle at their very side burst shining helmets and sabers, British uniforms and trumpeting elephants. With a mad cheer, the rescue party hurled themselves upon the terrified dacoits.
From the time the first rifle cracked, Guy knew nothing until a strong hand severed his cords and pulled him off the edge of the platform.
As though in a dream, he noted the familiar uniforms, heard the thunder of the mountain artillery, and saw the enemy fleeing in every direction as the shot plowed through them. He saw Captain Buller gallop past and heard the attack against a party of the enemy who were rushing for the steps; he saw the hand-to-hand struggle, the rush together up the steps, and then the fight on the platform. He saw the enemy in flight, the British uniforms swarming before the fortress, and then, with a shout of triumph that rang above the rifle fire, the rescued men were cut from their cannons and borne down from the platform.
All this he saw dimly, and then with a great burst of joy and gratitude, he realized that he was saved from an awful death.
Lieutenant Sherston was holding a flask to his lips as he leaned against a palm tree, and there were Forbes and Vance, and Terril, and Carew, with his bandaged arm, weeping tears of joy and shaking hands with their brave rescuers.
"Why, Chutney, my dear fellow," cried a hearty, familiar voice, and Captain Buller grasped his hand eagerly.
Guy could only look at him with tear-dimmed eyes. He could not speak.
But there was little time to spare for congratulations.
Off toward the jungle the enemy had made a stand, and a sharp fight was in progress.
Guy saw with amazement that they had brought an elephant battery along, and, stranger still, they had reached the valley from the west.
"Come on, now," cried Forbes. "We must join the fight."
They snatched up weapons from the wounded soldiers who were already being brought in to the shade of the palm trees, where Wood and Chauner lay unconscious, and hurried out to join the troops, who had by this time succeeded in driving the enemy into the jungle, and were hastening their retreat with discharges from the elephant battery.
The bugle call was sounded, and they collected before the fortress. The fight, though short, had been severe. Dead bodies lay on the platform and on the steps, and were strewn about the open place before the fortress.
A happy surprise awaited Forbes, for among the little group that surrounded Captain Buller were John Bolton, Mike McGore, and, wonderful to say, the pugnacious Mombagolo, who, in some mysterious manner, had come to life again.
There was no time for greeting, for some of the enemy had fought their way into the fortress, and the place must be taken at all hazards. Buller was about to order an advance, and the words were trembling on his lips when a cheer arose from the soldiers assembled about the west comer.
Guy hurried round to learn the cause, and, to his surprise and joy, he saw Jung Hader and Topee making their way down the rocky side of the fortress. They dropped skillfully from rock to rock, and at last reached the ground in safety. Their clothes were nearly torn off, and covered thick with slime and mud, and their hands were powder-stained and bloody.
Another cheer burst from the men as Guy clasped their hands, and Sherston, coming forward just then, said to Chutney:
"These two fellows saved all your lives. They shot down the torch bearers from the top of the fortress."
"It was nothing, sahib," said Jung, modestly. "The dacoits put us into a deep hole under the arsenal, and fastened it shut with spikes, hoping to bury us alive. It was dark and slimy, and there seemed no escape; but Topee discovered a hole along one side, and by making it larger we squeezed through and found ourselves in a narrow, winding passage that ran almost straight upward. It took us hours to reach the end, and at last, when the sun was coming up, we squeezed out upon the top of the fortress. A sentry was there on guard, and, creeping up close we killed him and took his rifle and shells. As for the rest," he concluded quietly, "from the top we saw the advance of the English through the jungle, and, as I am a good shot, sahib, I was able to assist in the attack."
Guy shook the brave Hindoo's hand again and again.
"I shall never forget this, Jung," he said. "Now join us in the attack on the fortress. We need such brave men."
Guy and Captain Buller led the men up before the brazen gates, but not a shot was fired within. The heavy doors were tightly fastened. One of the cannon was used as a ram, and with such good effect that in five minutes the doors were burst open, and the corridor was before them, dark and empty. Burning with impatience, Guy rushed in with drawn sword, followed closely by Forbes, Vance, Terril, and Buller, while close behind came Bolton, Jung and Topee.
They swarmed up the corridor unresisted. Guy clung to the hope that Nana Sahib was hidden within the fortress, and, worked up to a state of fierce excitement, he rushed from room to room, calling the others to follow.
The doors all stood open. The dungeon Guy had so recently occupied was empty, and so was the room beyond. He rushed into the robber's bedroom. It was in perfect order, everything in its place, but when he flung aside the curtains leading to the treasure chamber, he halted on the threshold in amazement, while the rest came crowding on behind him. The iron-bound chests lay scattered about the floor, half their contents gone. The secretary was wide open, the drawers rifled and empty; and the chest that had held Nana Sahib's private service of gold plate was gone in its entirety.
''He has carried off his treasure," groaned Guy. "We are too late.''
It was true. The most of the valuables were really gone, including all the gold and silver vessels, the rubies, and the idol heads studded with precious stones.
Just behind a curtain they found the cracked and broken chest half full of golden coins, which the robbers had been compelled to leave behind.
Buller stood looking on in wonder as the room was ransacked in the vain hope of finding more.
Guy had just made the discovery that the door leading to the corridor was ajar, when Jung, who had disappeared a moment before, glided to his side.
"Sahib," he said, in an excited whisper, "the secret passage from the arsenal is open. Nana has escaped by it. You may overtake him."
Guy turned eagerly round.
"Topee," he cried. "Guide the soldiers to the mouth of the cavern in the jungle. Buller, follow the Chinaman with half of your force. Go at once. Don't lose a minute. We may capture the villain yet."
And, as Buller hesitated, and then left the room with Topee, Guy cried eagerly, "Now for the cavern. Follow me, quick!" and with Jung and Vance, Terril, Bolton, McGore and two or three others at his heels, he dashed open the door, crossed the corridor and entered the arsenal.
There lay the plate chest, empty, while the stone was pulled half way out. They brought the lighted lamp from the corridor, and one after another crawled through the narrow aperture. Guy led them on with reckless haste, and in an incredibly short time the mouth of the cavern gleamed before them.
Dark figures were seen moving to and fro in the opening, and, pulling his revolver, Guy hurried on faster than ever, so quickly, in fact, that the rest could barely keep up with him.
Faster and faster, and now the foe in front took the alarm and began to flee in such haste that part of their burden fell to the ground, and golden vessels and heads of idols lay here and there in the path.
Guy burst into the open air, and, mad with passion, confronted Dalo and Nana Sahib.
Pointing his pistol at the mutineer, he pulled the trigger, but it missed fire, and in an instant Dalo was upon him with a sword.
He drew his saber in the nick of time, and a furious struggle began.
The blades clashed and rang, while Nana Sahib looked on, crying furiously:
"Kill the dog! Kill the dog of an Englishman!"
His face was pale, and his arm was wrapped in bloody bandages.
With marvelous skill, Guy parried the Hindoo's blows, but he was growing weaker, his arm was losing its strength. A mist seemed to come before his eyes -- a mist through which gleamed the Hindoo's fiendish countenance. Then came a shot from behind, a pistol shot loud and clear, and Dalo dropped in a quivering mass to the ground, while Nana Sahib, with a most fearful malediction, glided through the remains of the blown up barrier, and vanished from sight in the jungle.
"That was a good shot," cried Terril. "Just in time, too."
"Never mind Dalo now," cried Guy. "To the jungle, quick! Nana Sahib has escaped."
They hurried through the shattered passageway, searching in vain for any trace of the fugitive. Presently came sounds of firing from in front, and Topee burst through the bushes, followed by Captain Buller and a detachment of the Hussars.
"This is a death trap,'' cried Buller. ''We must get away from here as soon as possible. The jungle is alive with dacoits. I've lost two men already; But where is your robber chief, Chutney?"
"He's gone," cried Guy in despair. "It's no use searching. We'll return to the fortress by way of the cavern."
They found Jung kneeling on the ground, holding Dalo in his arms. The Hindoo was dying fast. His eyes were glassy, his breath came short and quick, and already his tunic was red with blood. He looked eagerly at the English soldiers, and a glad light came into his eyes as he saw that Nana Sahib was not with them.
Guy kneeled and bent over him.
"Dalo," he said softly, "tell me, what are you to Nana Sahib?"
The Hindoo opened his eyes, and whispered faintly:
"His brother -- sahib -- I am -- his brother. Few knew he -- had -- a brother. I am -- younger, twenty years -- younger. He has escaped -- you will not --"
A cold shudder passed over him, and he fell back in Jung Hair's arms. Guy rose to his feet. "He is dead," he said softly.
Through the cavern they returned to the fortress. Buller's first act was to call in the scattered troops, for the dacoits were safe in the jungle, and it would be impossible to dislodge them.
Further search for Nana Sahib must be abandoned for the present. The enemy had suffered severely, some thirty dead bodies being picked up on the plain, while of Bullers' force six were killed, and quite a number wounded.
With deep interest, Guy heard the tale of their marvelous rescue as they sat on the fortress steps discussing a hasty lunch.
"You see," said Buller, "when Cubit heard that you had gone off on this wild trip he was angry enough to take our heads off for letting you go. About that time here comes a savage fellow in from the jungle with letters from Forbes, whom we supposed dead, explaining the plight he and his American friends were in. Colonel Cubit ordered me off at once with three companies of Hussars and the elephant battery. Things were quiet around Balet, and fresh troops were on their way up river, so he concluded he could spare us. The messenger undertook to guide us to Bolton's castle, and a time of it we had, marching over mountains and through forests. Just half a day's journey from the castle we met Bolton here, and his sturdy Irishman, and the savage with the jaw breaking name. They were on their way to Balet to get help, and a lucky meeting it was for both parties. We concluded to press on to the fortress, hoping to rescue Forbes, for we had no idea what had become of you.
"The savage who had brought the letters, when he found out what we wanted to do, assured us that we could never get into the valley, and told us about this marvelous tunnel that was continually guarded by the dacoits. This rather disheartened us, and we hardly knew what to do, when by good fortune we ran across this gentleman here," and Buller introduced Guy to a tall man with long, blond hair who was sitting close at hand. "This Mr. Calderwood is an American missionary, stationed at Bhamo,'' resumed Buller. ''He had been off on some sort of an expedition among the hills, and when he heard of the English officer that had been captured by the dacoit chief, he at once offered to guide us into the valley by a secret way that he had accidentally learned through a converted Burman some time before. The rest you know, Chutney. We reached the western side of the valley after a long and arduous two days' march, and on the edge of the jungle we captured a dacoit, who informed us of the pleasant programme that was about to come off shortly. You may imagine our surprise to learn that you had all fallen into the robber's hands. But it was a fearfully close shave, and the credit of your rescue belongs to the two brave fellows who were on top of the fortress. That Hindoo is a dead shot, I assure you."
"He is a brave fellow, indeed," said Guy with emotion. "The Chinaman has done good service, too. And now what are your plans, Buller?"
"My plans? I have but two. First, destroy this serpent's nest, if possible. Second, to strike for the Chindwin without an hour's delay. Before sundown we must be out of this valley. The country is alive with dacoits, and our situation is critical."
Guy fully coincided in Buller's views. They ransacked the fortress again and collected together what treasure was left. The front apartments contained nothing but sleeping quarters, evidently used by the guards, but in a small room near the arsenal were found half a dozen kegs of powder. This find assured the success of Buller's plan. All valuables were removed from the fortress, the powder was broken open and thrown in a heap, and a fuse was laid to the outer vestibule.
They retired to the edge of the jungle when the train was fired, and presently with a terrific explosion and a burst of flames, the fortress crumbled into ruins.
A hasty inspection showed its destruction to be complete, for while the front still remained firm and unbroken the interior was shattered into a shapeless mass of rocks that filled all the apartments and destroyed forever the retreat of the Rajah Nana Sahib.
Without delay the brass cannon were spiked, the bamboo huts of the dacoits were set on fire and consumed with all their contents, and two hours past midday the little army marched out of the valley by the western exit, for spies sent forward had reported the tunnel through the mountain to be choked up with great stones.
Chauner was borne along with the wounded on stretchers, but Wood had recovered from his prostration and took his place in the ranks. Carew, too, pluckily insisted on marching, though his bruises were still painful.
The journey back was beset with many perils, and the dacoits harassed them continually, but on the morning of the fifth day they reached the Chindwin River, completely worn out and exhausted, and three hours later they marched into Balet, greeted with rousing cheers from the garrison.
Guy was at once sent for by Colonel Cubit, who had no doubt intended to censure him for his rashness, but when he heard the startling piece of news he had to tell, he commended him instead for his discovery.
Every effort was made to capture the mutineer, and spies were sent into every part of the country, but he had disappeared utterly, leaving no trace behind him.
Their daring leader gone, the dacoits became less troublesome, and after several severe defeats they seldom molested the more settled parts of the country.
Captain Chutney's expedition and its wonderful adventures was eagerly discussed at every garrison and mess table from Rangoon to Bhamo, and when the brave fellows themselves reached Mandalay after the evacuation of Balet, they were the heroes of the hour.
The treasure they had brought from the fortress rightfully belonged to the government, but General Tokar refused to claim it, and it was consequently divided among Guy's brave little band.
Topee had retained most of his plundered sapphires and rubies and showed such extreme reluctance to part with any of them that he was allowed to keep them for his share.
The balance, consisting of the chest of gold coin, a quantity of vessels of gold and silver, and a lot of idol heads and jeweled daggers was divided into lots.
Loyd and Vance Terril remained but a short time in Mandalay. They were anxious to see home again, and just a month after their wonderful rescue they sailed from Rangoon for New York, and today they are enjoying the pleasures of civilized life again in the metropolis with no present intention of wandering across the globe again.
Bolton concluded to abandon his castle in the jungle. He knew he could never live there unmolested again, so with his trusty McGore he bade farewell to his English friends and traveled around the coast to Chittagong, where he does a brisk business in wild animals, sending trapping parties up into the hills and then shipping direct to America.
Melton Forbes, with his characteristic keenness, lost no time in dispatching a marvelous batch of letters to the Post, which raised him to such renown that he received special orders to start at once for Suakim and interview the Arabs along the Red Sea.
With promises of eternal friendship, he parted from Guy, and with him went Mombagolo, who had conceived a deep attachment for the young war correspondent, and gave every promise of developing into a faithful servant.
Strange to say, Chauner recovered from his wound with careful nursing, and sailed for England to show his friends at home the lieutenant's uniform that he now wore. Wood purchased his discharge with part of his wealth and went home with Chauner. He had had all the experience with dacoits he wanted.
The brave Hindoo, Jung Hadar, attracted the attention of General Tokar, and he appointed him his private secreta[r]y and interpreter, a post for which Jung was fitted exactly.
Topee was at first rather undecided what to do. Even the fortune that he now owned would hardly induce the Chinese authorities to overlook some certain dark and mysterious deeds, and allow him to spend his wealth among his friends at Canton. He finally decided to go to America, the land that he had heard so much about, and carrying with him much good advice from Guy, which he promised to heed, he set sail from Rangoon. If you pass a certain Bowery museum in New York today you will see outside a glowing placard calling attention to "The Chinese Pirate of the Yellow Seas," who can be seen within for one dime, and if you enter you will find Topee himself dressed in piratical costume looking his grimmest for the edification of the throng that presses round his platform.
Chutney and Carew were granted a six months' leave of absence, and sailed for England just before Christmas. The terrible experiences they had passed through had not been without effect on their systems, and among their blonde locks were threads of gray, slight mementoes of that terrible morning when they faced death so bravely before the rajah's fortress.
The dreaded Nana Sahib is supposed to be lurking in the impenetrable jungles that lie to the west of Burma, and deep down in his heart Guy cherishes the hope that some day they may meet again, for his leave of absence is nearly over, and Buller writes him that the hill tribes are becoming troublesome again, and a raid is contemplated in the near future.
Guy throws the captain's letter down and looks out over the sunny English landscape with a vague, discontented expression. He feels that home life is becoming wearisome already, and even at the risk of falling for the second time into the power of the bloodthirsty Nana Sahib he concludes that he will cut short his furlough, and return to his military duties at Burma.
THE END