Caste Part 9

And this"--a gleaming diamond in a circlet of gold--"for Sirdar Baptiste," and he rolled it in his loin cloth. "And this,"--a string of pearls, that as he laid it on the black velvet was like the tears of angels,--"This for the fat pig of a Dewan to set his four wives at each other's throats. Let not the others know of these, Sookdee, of these that we have taken for the account."

Suddenly there was a clamour of voices, cries, the clang of swords, the sharp crash of a shot, and the two jamadars, startled, eyes staring, stood with ears c.o.c.ked toward the tumult.

"Soldiers!" Sookdee gasped. His hand brushed Hunsa's bare arm as he thrust it into the chest and brought it forth clasping jewels, which he tied in a knot of his waistcloth. "Take you something, Hunsa, and lock the box till we see," he said darting from the tent.

Hunsa filled a pocket of his brocaded Jacket, but he was looking for the Akbar Lamp, the ruby. He lifted out a tray and ran his grimy hands through the maze of gold and silver wrought ornaments below. His fingers touched, at the very bottom, a bag of leather. He tore it open, and a blaze of blood-red light glinted at him evilly where a ruby caught the flame of the torch that Sookdee had thrown to the earth floor as he fled.

With a snarl of gloating he rolled the ruby in a fold of his turban, locked the box, and darted after Sookdee.

He all but fell over the seven dead bodies of the merchant and his men as he raced to where a group was standing beyond. And there three more bodies lay upon the ground, and beside them, held, were two horses.

"It is Ajeet Singh," Sookdee said pointing to where the Chief lay with his head in the lap of a decoit. "These two native soldiers of the English came riding in with swiftness, for behind them raced Ajeet who must have seen them pa.s.s."

"And here," another added, "as the riders checked at sight of the dead, Ajeet pulled one from his horse and killed him, but the other, with a pistol, shot Ajeet and he is dead."

"The Chief is not dead," said the one who held his head in his lap; "he is but shot in the shoulder, and I have stopped the blood with my hand."

"And we have killed the other soldier," another said, "for, having seen the bodies, we could not let him live."

From Sookdee's hand dangled a coat of one of the dead.

"This that is a leather purse," he said, "contains letters; the red thing on them I have looked upon before--it is the seal of the Englay.

It was here in the coat of that one who is a sergeant--the other being a soldier."

He put the leather case within the bosom of his shirt, adding: "This may even be of value to the Dewan. Beyond that, there was little of loot upon these dogs of the Englay--eight rupees. The coats and the turbans we will burn."

Hunsa stooped down and slipped the sandals from the feet of the one Sookdee had pointed out as the officer.

"The footwear is of little value, but we will take the bra.s.s cooking pots of the merchant," Sookdee said, eyeing this performance; there was suspicion in his eyes lighted from the flare of their camp fires.

"Sookdee," Hunsa said, "you have the Englay leather packet, but they do not send _sowars_ through the land of the Mahratta with the real message written on the back of the messenger. In quiet I will rip apart the soles of this footwear. Do you that with the saddles; therein is often hidden the true writing. In the slaying of these two we have acquired a powerful enemy, the English, and the message, if there be one, might be traded for our lives. Here are the keys to the box, for it is heavy."

Into Hunsa's mind had flashed the thought that the G.o.ds had opened the way, for he had plotted to do this thing--the destruction of Ajeet.

"Have all the bodies thrown into the pit, Sookdee," he advised; "make perfect the covering of the fire and ash, and while you prepare for flight I will go and bring Bootea's cart to carry Ajeet."

Then Hunsa was swallowed up in the gloom of the night, melting like a shadow into the white haze of the road as he raced like a grey wolf toward the Gulab, who now had certainly been delivered into his hands.

Soon his heart pumped and the choke of exertion slowed him to a fast walk. The sandals, bulky with their turned-up toes, worried him. He drew a knife from his sash and slit the tops off, muttering: "If it is here, the message of value, it will be between the two skins of the soles."

Now they lay flat and snug in his hand as he quickened his pace.

CHAPTER IX

The Gulab heard the shot at the Bagree camp, and Hunsa found her trembling from apprehension.

"What has happened, Jamadar?" she cried. "Ajeet heard the beat of iron-shod hoofs upon the road, and seeing in the moonlight the two riders knew from the manner they sat the saddles that they were of the Englay service; when he called to them they heeded him not. Then Ajeet followed the two. Why was the shot, Hunsa?"

"They have killed Ajeet," Hunsa declared; "but also they are dead, and I have the leader's leather sandals for a purpose. The shot has roused the village, and even now our people are preparing for flight. Get you into the cart that I may take you to safety." He took the ruby from his turban, saying: "And here is the most beautiful ruby in Hind; the fat pig of a Dewan wants it, but I have taken it for you."

But Bootea pushed his hand away: "I take no present from you, Hunsa."

Hunsa put the jewel back in his turban and commanded the two men, who stood waiting, "Make fast the bullocks to the cart quickly lest we be captured, because other soldiers are coming behind."

The two Bagrees turned to where the slim pink-and-grey coated trotting bullocks were tethered by their short horns to a tree and leading them to the cart made fast the bamboo yoke across their necks.

"Get into the cart, Bootea," Hunsa commanded, for the girl had not moved.

"I will not!" she declared. "I'm going back to Ajeet; he is not dead--it is a trick."

"He _is_ dead," Hunsa snarled, seizing her by arm.

The Gulab screamed words of denunciation. "Take your hands off me, son of a pig, accursed man of low caste! Ajeet will kill you for this, dog!"

At this the wife of Sookdee fled, racing back toward the camp. One of the men darted forward to follow, but Hunsa stayed him, saying, "Let her go--it is better; I war not upon Sookdee."

He had the Gulab now in the grasp of both his huge paws, and holding her tight, said rapidly: "Be still you she-devil, accursed fool! You are going to a palace to be a queen. The son of the Peshwa desires you. True, I, also, have desire, but fear not for, by Bhowanee! it is a life of glory, of jewels and rich attire that I take you to; so get into the cart."

But Bootea wrenched free an arm and struck Hunsa full upon his ugly face, screaming her rebellion.

"To be struck by a woman!" Hunsa blared; "not a woman, but the sp.a.w.n of a she-leopard! why should not I beat your beautiful face into ugliness with one of these sandals of a dead pig!"

He lifted her bodily, calling to the man upon the ground, the other having mounted behind the bullocks. "Put back the leather wall of the cart that I may hurl this outcast widow of a dead Hindu within."

Bootea clawed at his face; she kicked and fought; her voice screaming a call to Ajeet.

There was a heavy rolling thump of hoofs upon the roadway, unheard of Hunsa because of the vociferous struggle. Then from the shimmer of moonlight thrust the white form of a big Turcoman horse that was thrown almost to his haunches, his breast striking the back of the decoit.

The bullocks, nervous little brutes, startled by the huge white animal, swerved, and before the man who sat a-straddle of the one shaft gathered tight the cord to their nostrils, whisked the cart to the roadside where it toppled over the bank for a fall of fifteen feet into a ravine, carrying bullocks and driver with it.

The moonlight fell full upon the face of the horseman, its light making still whiter the face of Captain Barlow.

And Bootea recognised him. It was the face that had been in her vision night and day since the _nautch_.

"Save me, Sahib!" she cried; "these men are thieves; save me, Sahib!"

The hunting crop in Barlow's hand crashed upon the thick head of Hunsa in ready answer to the appeal. And as the sahib threw himself from the saddle the jamadar, with a snarl like a wounded tiger, dropped the girl and, whirling, grappled with the Englishman.

Barlow was strong; few men in the force, certainly none in the officers' mess, could put him on his back; and he was lithe, supple as a leopard; and in combat cool, his mind working like the mind of a chess player: but he realised that the arms about him were the arms of a gorilla, the chest against which he was being crushed was the chest of a trained wrestler; a smaller man would have heard his bones cracking in that clutch.

He raised a knee and drove it into the groin of the jamadar; then in the slight slackening of the holding arms as the Bagree shrank from the blow, he struck at the bearded chin; it was the clean, trained short-arm jab of a boxer.

But even as the gorilla wavered staggeringly under the blow, a soft something slipped about Barlow's throat and tightened like the coils of a python. And behind something was pressing him to his death. The other Bagree springing to the a.s.sistance of Hunsa had looped his _roomal_ about the Sahib's throat with the art of a thug.

Barlow's senses were going; his brain swam; in his fancy he had been shot from a cliff and was hurtling through s.p.a.ce in which there was no air--his lungs had closed; in his brain a hammer was beating him into unconsciousness.