Barclay of the Guides Part 2

In the afternoon Minghal's messengers returned with another supply of powder. As ill-luck would have it, with the fall of night a thick mist came down upon the village, obscuring the moon; and under cover of the darkness the men brought powder to the tower door and fired it. The door, ma.s.sive as it was, was blown to splinters, and with yells of triumph the a.s.sailants rushed in when the smoke had cleared, confident that they were on the point of mastery. But the defenders had had ample time to prepare for them, and when, ignorant of the barricade, they began to rush up the winding stairs, Dilasah being at their head, they were met with a sharp fusillade, which struck down several of them and sent the rest scuttling away with yells of alarm. Dilasah himself was among those who were wounded, and Ahmed from his conning post above could dimly see his rival being carried away by two of the men.

This set-back, while it eased Ahmed's position for the moment, had the effect of making the enemy still more determined. Hitherto the most part of the men had not been greatly interested in the business. The quarrel was a personal one of their chief's; for themselves they would have been satisfied with plundering the village and returning to their own place.

Even though Minghal inflamed their racial and religious prejudices against Ahmed as one of the hated Feringhis, they saw little to gain by capturing or killing him. But now that they had themselves suffered, their warlike instincts and their pa.s.sion for revenge were aroused; and, moreover, they were nettled by their failure, considering that they outnumbered the defenders by at least ten to one.

The night pa.s.sed quietly, but evidence of their new spirit was shown next day. Ahmed, looking from his window, saw signs of great activity below, though for a time neither he nor Ahsan nor any other of his comrades understood what was afoot. By and by, however, it became clear that the enemy were busily constructing shields of wood and goat-skins with which to defend themselves against musket-shots from beyond the barricade. The work was apparently finished by midday, for the men squatted in groups on the ground, taking their dinner, and talking with great cheerfulness. But when the hours of the afternoon went by without the expected attack, Ahmed concluded that it was put off till night, and felt that this time it would be pushed home. Defended by their shields, the men could easily bring powder to the base of the barricade, and if that was blown away it was only a question of minutes. It was useless to attempt to disguise from his comrades the great danger in which they stood, especially as they were now reduced to their last pitchers of water.

Now Ahsan made a proposal.

"'Tis time for you to leave us, Ahmed-ji," he said. "Minghal, that son of a dog, is bent on seizing you. It matters little about the rest of us, but you are the apple of the master's eye, and if you are safe, 'tis of little moment what happens to us. We shall become Minghal's men; we shall at least be saved alive. Do you, then, escape by the rope when darkness falls, and run to the hills, where you may hide until the master returns; and when you are gone, after a time we will deliver ourselves up to Minghal."

This suggestion was applauded by the other men. They had in truth little to gain by further resistance. If their lives were spared they would only pa.s.s into the service of another chief, and since Minghal's star seemed to be in the ascendant, that was a fate which all expected sooner or later to befall them. But Ahmed was very unwilling thus to throw up the sponge. Apart from his disinclination to desert his post, he knew how his father would be cut to the heart at the triumph of his rival, and felt that he himself would be for ever disgraced if this calamity should come upon the old chief during his absence. Yet he felt the impossibility of holding out much longer, and was troubled at the thought that all those with him might be killed if he did not yield.

"I will go apart and think over what you have said," he said to the man, "and I will come again and tell you my thoughts."

He went to the top of the tower, and leaning over the parapet began to ponder the difficult situation in which he found himself. And as he was sadly thinking that there was no other course than to surrender (for to run away and leave his comrades was abhorrent to him), his eye was suddenly caught by a small dark patch moving on the hillside far away towards the British frontier. The sun was behind him, the air was clear, and, gazing at what had attracted his notice, he was not long in coming to the conclusion that the dark shadow on the hill was a body of hors.e.m.e.n.

A great hope sprang up in his mind. It might be Rahmut returning with his men. True, it might be a band belonging to another chief, or even a troop of British hors.e.m.e.n, or of natives in the British pay. Keen as his eyes were, it was impossible at this distance--at least twelve miles, as he judged--to tell who the men were. But they were certainly approaching, though very slowly; they were coming from the very quarter whence his father would return, there was at least a good chance that they were friends. He ran down at once to the room where Ahsan and the rest were awaiting his return, and told them of what he had seen. They went back with him and looked eagerly across the plain. The hors.e.m.e.n appeared to have halted, they were no nearer than when he had seen them last; none of his comrades was better able than he to identify them.

"Let us make a beacon here," said one of the men. "If they are our own people they will ride at once to our help; if they are not, we shall be none the worse off."

"No, no," said old Ahsan; "that would be a foolish thing to do.

Minghal's men cannot have spied them yet; we at this height can see many miles further than they below. And they cannot have been seen by the outpost on the hillock yonder, for, look! the copse is between them. Let us do nothing to put our enemies on guard. And besides, say we light a beacon, and our master comes riding to our help, Minghal, seeing the fire, would know its meaning, and even though he saw not the master's troop, he would suspect, and lay an ambush, and the master might be killed."

"But how, then, can we bring them to us?" asked Ahmed. "They have halted, as you see; perhaps they have had a long day's march and are tired. Perhaps they may encamp for the night; and if they do, or even if they continue to come slowly towards us, they may arrive too late. Shall we fire shots?"

"That is no better than to light a beacon," said Ahsan. "The shots would bring them fast enough to us; but as thou knowest, Ahmed-ji, the sound of their riding would be heard while they were yet far away, and they have but to come a little nearer to be seen by the outpost. The end would be the same: Minghal would lie hid in readiness to meet them, and they would fall into his hands."

"Yet we must do something," cried Ahmed, "and before it is dark. When night comes we shall be attacked and overcome; and my father, when he hears the firing, will come up in haste, and as you say, the sound of his riding will be heard; having overcome us, Minghal would have time to prepare to meet him."

"There is one way, Ahmed-ji," said Ahsan slowly. "One of us must go down the rope and haste to meet him and give him warning of what has befallen us here. And who better than thyself? Thou art swift of foot and skilled in the secret tracking down of prey: who more fit to undertake this errand or more likely to accomplish it?"

This was perfectly true; but the old man had another motive. There was still uncertainty whether the hors.e.m.e.n were friends or foes, and he wished in either case to secure the lad's safety. Ahmed did not see through the gate-keeper's design; he knew that, of the company there a.s.sembled, he would have the best chance of success; and so he agreed, as soon as dusk fell, to slip down the rope, make his way round the village, and set off towards the distant hill on which the dark patch could still be seen, stationary.

It wanted still two hours of dusk when this decision was come to. During that time Ahmed and the gate-keeper talked over the plan, and as they did so they saw the band of hors.e.m.e.n begin to move once more slowly towards them. They were at once alive to a danger. The hors.e.m.e.n were at least twelve miles from the village. At the pace at which they appeared to be riding it would take them four hours to reach the walls. But when they had covered half the distance they would come in sight of the outpost on the hillock; the alarm would be given, and they would arrive only to fall into a trap. Yet it was impossible to warn them. It would be unsafe for Ahmed to leave the tower until the approach of dark, and by that time the hors.e.m.e.n might have come within view from the hillock.

Ahmed waited in great restlessness and anxiety, feeling his helplessness.

"'Tis in the hands of Allah," said Ahsan, trying to quiet him. "What is to be will be. But that thou hast Feringhi blood in thee, Ahmed-ji, thou wouldst not be so disturbed. We cannot hasten the dark; we cannot speak through the air to warn the master. But look what Allah can do; they have halted again."

And pointing over the parapet, he showed that the dark irregular shadow had rested a little lower down the hill, upon which lay the glow of the now setting sun.

As soon as the dusk was merging towards dark, Ahmed was let down by the rope. Ahsan had promised to hold out against any attack that Minghal might make. Then, creeping stealthily along by the foot of the wall, he continued till he came to a place where the ground was broken by a nullah, into which he leapt, and ran along its dry bottom at full speed until he arrived safely in the hills. By this time it was quite dark; but the moon was just rising, and in a little he was able by its light to guide his steps so that he did not stumble into a ravine or trip over a salient rock.

As he came near the place where the outpost was stationed he went very cautiously. The men had taken shelter in a rude shepherd's cairn; he saw the faint glow of their charcoal fire and heard their voices as he slipped by. Then he pushed on at greater speed, choosing a course in which he would never come within sight of the men, however carefully they might keep watch. At one spot he halted and looked behind, to catch a last glimpse of the tower before he rounded the base of a hill that would hide it from view. The moon was shining full upon it, and he hoped that the enemy would defer their threatened attack, as at the first attempt, until the door was shrouded in darkness.

On and on he hastened, for mile after mile, running down the slopes where he could, wading brooks, climbing bluffs, doggedly, without rest.

When he came to an eminence where he could scan a long stretch of the comparatively level ground over which the hors.e.m.e.n would come, he looked eagerly for some sign of them; but though the greyish soil shone white in the moonlight and the outlines of things were very clear, he failed to descry them, and could not but think that they had encamped for the night. If it was so, still greater was the necessity for speed, since at any moment the attack on the tower might be begun and the frail barricade forced or blown up.

Every now and again he paused for a moment to listen, both for sounds from the village behind him and for the hoofs of the horses. In the still air of the night the crack of musket-shots might well reach him if the a.s.sault on the tower were begun. But he heard nothing save the rustle of falling water or the cry of a jackal, and he went on again, buoyed up by a great hope that he might be in time.

At length, heated and weary, after breasting a steep knoll he espied, in a well-sheltered hollow far below him, the glow of camp fires. With the caution habitual in a hill-man he crept down warily; if he should blunder on a hostile party the chances of saving the village and warning his father would be small indeed. Taking cover from bushes and angular projections of the hillside, he drew nearer and nearer to the camp. He had little fear of encountering a sentry, for the Pathans, in some matters highly cautious, are in others equally careless. And thus he came within earshot of the camp, and, lying flat on his face, peered down to spy if the men there were or were not his friends.

Now he was able to see the dark forms of a number of horses tethered to trees beyond the camp, and in the middle of the hollow, around the fires, the shapes of sleeping men. Still he was unable to distinguish them. He wriggled forward on all fours until he was within a spear-cast of them, and then caught sight of the red turban which his father always wore. No other man of the tribe wore a turban of that colour; but still it might be affected by one of another tribe, and Ahmed was not yet satisfied. So he crept very stealthily round the encampment until he reached the line of horses, and his heart leapt with delight when, on the very first of the line, he recognized the housings of Rahmut Khan's favourite arab. He hesitated no longer, but gave a low hail, and rising to his feet walked down towards the fires. His call, low as it was, had reached the ears of several of the men and of the chief himself. They rose, gripping their long muskets that lay beside them, and as they recognized Ahmed, they came forward to meet him, and asked him eagerly the meaning of this nocturnal visit.

It did not take him long to explain what had happened. Growling with anger, but breaking off to speak a fond word of approbation to Ahmed, the old chief called to his men to mount their horses. "Bah!" he cried, with a scornful intonation, "we will see if the eagle cannot deal with the night-hawk."

The blood of the old warrior was up; Minghal should rue the day when he conceived the folly of setting himself in rivalry to Rahmut Khan.

The chief was quick to form his plan. The first thing was to guard against any alarm among Minghal's men. It was necessary to silence the two men of the outpost. This would cause some delay, but it was of the first importance that they should neither see nor hear the advancing body, since by firing their matchlocks they could put their comrades in the village on the alert.

It was seven miles from the camp to the outpost. Rahmut durst not ride towards it with his full body of men, for the clatter of fifty horses'

hoofs could not fail to be heard. Yet the case was urgent, for very soon, perhaps even at this moment, the tower might be a.s.saulted. Delay there must be, but to lessen it as much as possible Rahmut decided to m.u.f.fle the hoofs of three of the horses with strips of blanket, and to send three of his men with Ahmed to surprise the outpost. Meanwhile he himself with the rest of his party would ride in a circular course to the southward, so that they might sweep round the dangerous point at sufficient distance to be out of earshot.

The m.u.f.fling was soon done, and the three chosen men set off, Ahmed being mounted behind one of them. Following his directions, they came unerringly to within a short distance of the hillock upon which the scouts were posted. Then they dismounted, and, Ahmed leading the way, they crept round and up so as to come on the men from above. The scouts were reclining in the cairn behind the fire, still talking in low tones.

There was a sudden rush, a cry, a wild scuffle, and then silence.

Their task accomplished, the four returned to their horses and galloped across the country to join the main body, whom they met at the appointed rendezvous, a copse on rising ground some three miles south of the village. From that point Rahmut had decided to make the advance on foot, so that the chances of premature discovery by the enemy should be diminished. The moon was sinking in the sky; they could not see the tower from the place where they dismounted; but the favourable moment for Minghal's intended a.s.sault had certainly now come, and Ahmed expected within a little to hear the sound of firing.

The whole party, save a few men left to guard the horses, set off at a rapid march towards the village. It was possible that as they approached it a keen look-out might descry them from the tower, but they would be invisible to any one on a lower level. True, a man perched on the wall might see them; but Minghal, having posted scouts on a hillock commanding all the surrounding country for several miles, would be little likely to take this extra precaution.

Marching rapidly, the party had come within a few hundred yards of the village wall when they heard an explosion, followed by cries and the crack of muskets. The a.s.sault had begun. The gates being shut, it was only possible to enter the village by climbing the wall, and Ahmed led the band at the double to the spot where he had mounted when he fired the powder in the shed. Shouts and the sound of firing still came from the village; it was clear that a desperate fight was in progress; and since the din must drown all other noises, Rahmut's troops made no effort towards silence, but rushed with all speed.

The place for which Ahmed was making was on the opposite side of the village from the tower. Thus it was possible to climb the wall without attracting the attention of the enemy. Ahmed was first up; while some of the men were following him one by one he ran round to the gate on the chance that it might be left unguarded. He would then throw it open and give admittance to the rest of his party. But when he came within sight of it he found that a sentry was on guard there. He dared not risk the sound of a scuffle, so he slipped back to his friends and waited until the whole party had climbed the wall. Then, drawing his talwar, Rahmut put himself at the head of his men and led them through the streets towards the tower.

Their advance was not at first seen, for the villagers, drawn out of their houses by the sounds of fighting, had flocked to the neighbourhood of the tower, and were watching the progress of Minghal's attack. The barricade at the foot of the winding stair had been blown up, and a fierce contest was now going on. Ahsan and his comrades were making a stout resistance, buoyed up by the belief that their chief was coming to their help; but they were on the point of being overpowered when a great shout arose from the street, and Rahmut and his men burst through the ranks of the onlookers and fell upon the rear of Minghal's force. The surprise was complete. The new-comers laid about them doughtily with their terrible swords; their enemies fell into a panic, and in a few minutes the whole crowd, save those who had already fallen, were running in every direction. Many of them were cut down as they fled. Some made straight for the gate, which the men stationed there had thrown open at the first sign of what was happening. Among the fugitives was Minghal Khan. Rahmut had ordered his men to take the rival chief alive, but in the darkness it was difficult to distinguish one from many, and Minghal made good his escape with a few of his followers, and fled away into the night.

CHAPTER THE FOURTH

The Return of Sherdil

To pursue the fugitives was impossible in the darkness; nor, indeed, were Rahmut's men capable of further exertions. They were worn out by two days and nights of hard riding. Before proceeding to carry out the prime object of his expedition, the old chief had turned aside to raid the village of an enemy near the frontier, and had scarcely completed his work there when he was spied by a troop of the Feringhis, who chased him with such pertinacity that he was forced to abandon his purposed quest. Having secured, therefore, those members of Minghal's band who had life in them and were not too severely wounded to escape, Rahmut ordered the gates to be again closed and the community to rest.

Before he sought his own couch, however, the old chief heard from Ahsan the full story of what had happened during his absence. Enraged as he was at Minghal's action, he was still more delighted with the part Ahmed had played. He embraced the lad fondly, called him by endearing names in the extravagant Oriental way, and declared that, after punishing Minghal, he would devote himself in earnest to the quest of a suitable bride for his heir.

In the morning he caused all the villagers to a.s.semble in the open s.p.a.ce before the tower, and bitterly upbraided those who had tamely submitted to the enemy. He ordered his nephew Dilasah, who had been severely wounded, to be brought out among the people, and, cursing him in the name of the Prophet, he bade all men to witness that he disowned him utterly. Then he waxed eloquent in praise of Ahmed, about whose neck he hung a chain of silver cunningly wrought, and called on the people to recognize him as their future chief. And, finally, he announced that Minghal Khan should not go unpunished. When the time was ripe his enemy should lick the dust.

When the a.s.sembly was dismissed, Rahmut called his chief men about him to discuss the means of taking vengeance on Minghal. Ahmed felt a glow of pride at being admitted to the council. In the ordinary way he could not have expected so great an honour until he had proved himself in actual warfare and become a married man. But the old chief was so much pleased with his coolness and daring, that he was resolved to give the lad a real share in the activities of the tribe.

There was a long discussion as to the method by which reprisal might be made on Minghal Khan. It was speedily agreed that to attack his village openly was impracticable, or would at least expose them to the risk of disaster. Minghal had lost some twenty men in the fight, but it was well known that he could still put eighty or ninety good warriors in the field, whereas Rahmut had but forty or fifty. Success could only be hoped for from a stratagem. But Minghal, while inferior as a warrior to Rahmut, was more than his match in wiles. Rahmut, indeed, disdained trickery of any kind; he had won his reputation by sheer prowess and skill in generalship, and if it came to a contest in cunning, Minghal would easily bear the palm. No doubt the wily chief would expect retaliation, and would be fully prepared to meet it. No one among the council was able to suggest a likely scheme, and it broke up without having come to a decision.

Two days pa.s.sed, and still no plan had suggested itself. On the third day, there rode up to the village a tall, black-bearded horseman clad in worn and tattered garments of dust colour, and carrying sword, lance and carbine. When he had come within a short distance of the gate Ahsan shouted--

"Halt, there! Who are you, and what is your business?"

"Knowst thou me not, Ahsan?" came the reply. "Dost not remember Sherdil, son of a.s.sad? Thou didst thrash me often enough, and truly the soft part of me will never forget thy thwackings."