In the Guardianship of God Part 7

Something in his broad, not unkindly rebuke seemed to take the starch out of the Most Nailin' Bad Shot. It seemed to cower in on itself and become smaller; though, as Joe Banks told himself perplexedly, it had been small enough to begin with.

"Well, aw _am_ jiggered," he repeated more softly. "Whatten iver mad tha' do it, ma la.s.s?"

The answer was feminine and disconcerting; a sudden storm of tears. So they stood, the quaintest couple in the world. She bristling with cold steel of sorts; he bareheaded in the moonlight, with nothing but his hands for weapons.

"Dunnot," he said soothingly, not without a certain trepidation. "Aw'm no[=a]n go[=a]n t' hurt thee, ma gell. We'm not thaat soort t'

womenkind; an' tha's a main pratty gell." Here he laughed softly; a laugh that was lost in a third--

"Wall, aw'm _jiggered_."

He appeared to be so, for he ceased thrusting her from him--she being, indeed, too much engaged with tears to make it dangerous--and pa.s.sed his hand over his forehead as if to clear his brain.

"Aw'm no[=a]n go[=a]n t' hurt tha, ma la.s.s," he repeated suddenly, as if for his own information. "Aw'm n.o.bbut go[=a]n t' shame tha' fur tha' badness."

And with that he lifted her right up like a baby, sate down on a neighbouring rock, and set her on his knee.

"Thou'rt as light as a feather," he said almost admiringly. "An' t'

coom at Jooey Banks like a wild cat; for sure it caps owt; but thou'rt a bad gell, an' mun be shamed. So set tha still an' be doon wi' it."

Once more he might have claimed comprehension, for the Most Nailin'

Bad Shot sate still; with the half-wicked, half-frightened look of a curious squirrel, as one by one he transferred knives and pistols to his own person. It was rather a lengthy business by reason of his right hand--the one that had been bitten--being still occupied in prisoning hers. Not that she struggled; on the contrary, she sate curiously still, checking even her sobs.

"Now for t' hair," he went on methodically, pulling off the large green turban wound around the small head. He sate half perturbed and breathless after this was done, and the half-wicked, half-frightened dark eyes watching him, seemed to admit a faint smile.

"Whew-w-w," he said under his breath, "it's long, for sartin sure." It was, and a faint scent of orange-blossom a.s.sailed him as he loosed the plaits. His hand trembled among them a little, and lingered.

"Aw mun be as good's ma word," he muttered, "as Joey Banks' word. See tha here--sit tha still, there's a good la.s.s, an' let me hurry up; wilt thee?" There was almost an appeal in his voice, and both hands shook a little as the long black tresses twined themselves about the big fingers like snakes.

"Aw'm no[=a]n go[=a]n t' hurt," he reiterated blandly; when, perhaps fortunately, the whole bewildering face before him relapsed into a mischievous smile, and one small finger pointed derisively to the crown of his head. He flushed up scarlet.

"Thee'm n.o.bbut a wicked, bad gell," he said fiercely, "an' Joey Banks'll shame tha--a bold hussy." So he set her on her feet, and attacked her last bit of masculinity. This was a long, green waistband wound about her middle, and which had carried a score or so of pistols, yataghans, and Heaven knows what murderous weapons. Of this portion of the toilette Craddock said it was hard to get Joey Banks to speak at all, and when he did, his voice dropped to a whisper, and he looked positively scared. She was so main slender, he said, that he thought he would never have done unwinding, though after a bit she helped cheerfully by twiddling like a teetotum. At last, however, she stood there, slim, girlish, her long hair shimmering, her dark eyes shining, half with tears, half with smiles.

"'An' then, Joey?' I arst 'im, sir, when 'e sate mumchance," Craddock interpolated.

"Aw out wi' 'Fower angels rouand ma bed,' man, an' a' up wi' her in ma arms, an' a' kissed her fair an' oft, man, fair an' oft, just t' shame her, an' a' runned awaay. That's what a' did--aw runned awaay."

Half-way across the ravine, however, he paused to pick up his musket and look back. The Most Nailin' Bad Shot in creation was standing where he had left her, her face hidden in her hands. For an instant something tore at his heart, bidding him go back; then he set his teeth with an oath, and ran on. Five minutes afterwards he had slipped into a favourite cranny of rock beside Craddock and was puffing away at his pipe as if nothing had happened, absolutely silent, till, according to the latter's report, he "give a silly sort of laugh," and in the moonlight his eyes could be seen shining like stars as he turned and said softly--

"Well, lad--a' ha' dune it this toime."

"Done what, Apollyon?" asked Craddock.

"A' dunnot roightly kna', but a' ha' dune it, for sartin sure,"

replied Joe Banks, succinctly; and then he told the story.

"One of them _gazes_[1] as they call 'em," interrupted Craddock, when the big man told of his discovery in a sort of hushed voice. "They makes 'em male an' female--the latter most wicious. Bad lots out o'

the bazaar, needin' a pa.s.sport to the skies--or the devil."

[Footnote 1: _Ghazie_--religious fanatic.]

Joey Banks' big fist came down like a sledgehammer on Craddock's knee.

"Hush, mon!" he said peremptorily. "She woan't none that sort. When a'

kissed her--" he stopped short, and blushed furiously.

"Apollyon!" remarked Craddock, after a pause, with great severity. "It ain't wholesome to keep sech things comfortable in yer own buzzum.

It's better to 'ave up an' done with it an' begin agin. When you kiss her--w'ot then?"

But Joe Banks' shining eyes were looking out into the soft darkness, soft and dark for all their shininess. "A' meant to 'a' keppen c.o.o.nt--but a' didn't somehow." His voice was quite dreamy, and Craddock rose in wrath.

"It's my belief, same as I was in the catechising, Joey Banks, that you bin an' fallen in love with a female _gaze_; but mark my word--there ain't no grat.i.toode to speak of in _gazes_, and she'll nick you yet, sure as my name's Nathaniel James. She'll nick you yet, I du a.s.sure you."

But Craddock was wrong. Whatever else she did, the Most Nailin' Bad Shot shot no more. Not that it mattered much to Joey Banks whether she did or not, since but a few days after there was a "casoolty" in Number One outpost, Volunteer Joseph Banks, sometime ca.n.a.l overseer, was reported missing after a sortie; but as he had been last seen mortally wounded close to the city wall, his comrades mourned Apollyon from the first as dead. So as Craddock said feelingly, "there weren't even a lock o' 'is 'air for 'is old mother, an' she was a widder."

Not that there was much time for mourning in the outpost, since the long months of the siege were drawing to a close. Then came the final a.s.sault, the ten days of struggle within the city, until even the Palace was ours, and the army which had taken it prepared to move on elsewhere. It was the evening before the start, and Craddock, who, as a volunteer, had more liberty to go and come as he chose, went down to the now deserted outpost to smoke a last pipe, and think over the past with the pleasing melancholy which goes so admirably with tobacco.

"Poor Joey Banks!" he thought, as memory came round to that episode, "'im an' 'is female _gaze_. I shan't never forget 'em."

I will tell the rest in Craddock's own words; they suit it.

"I look up, sir, an' you might 'ave knock me over with a ninepin, for there was Joey, lookin' as spry as spry. 'Joey,' says I, takin' it as one does, sir, for all them sayin's of ninepins and feathers and such like, quite calm, 'so you're not dead?'

"'Na! lad,' he says back, as calm like. 'Aw'm go[=a]n t' be married, an' a've coom t' get t' best man.'

"It took me all of a 'eap, sir, sorter Malachi an' the minor prophets, sir, as things does sometimes. 'Joey, my boy,' I says, 'you ain't never goin' to marry a female _gaze?_' says I.

"But 'e was, sir. Ter cut a long story short, she'd found 'im an'

nursed him. An' we all knows wot that means, white or black, sir. 'E'd a 'eap to tell--though Lord knows where 'e got it, for 'e didn't know no 'Industani to speak of, sir--about 'ow she lived in quite a fine 'ouse an' 'ow her father an' brothers 'ad bin killed, so as she kinder 'adn't no choice but _gazing_. But I wasn't to be took with chaff, so I says to 'im quite solemn like, 'Afore I'm best man, I've got to know, Joey--is she square?' 'E just looked at me, sir, as if I were slush.

"'She'd gotten ma hair in t' buzzum,' he said, an' said no moor.

"So I gave my word to be best man, sir, an' 'e sighed like as a weight was took off him. 'Then coom awa' wi' me t' pa.s.son,' says 'e, 'fur I'm go[=a]n t' be marrid afoor aw goes with t' army to-morer.'

"'Then you've 'ad the banns cried,' says I, for my father bein'

bell-ringer same as give me my name in 'oly baptism, sir, I was up to them dodges. 'E give me a real Apollyon frown, sir.

"'Na, lad; aw've no[=a]n had nought cried, but aw'm go[=a]n t' wed her fair afoor a' fight, so save t' breath an' coom t' pa.s.son.'

"Well, sir, parson wasn't a bad chap, as I knowed, 'aving seen 'im doing dooty stiddily like the rest o' us, but 'e'd got 'is black coat on agin, an' 'e were by nature, the canonised red bricky sort; so 'e wouldn't none o' it, though I stood solemn for Joe like as if I bin G.o.dfather, tellin' 'im 'ow Joe would 'ave bin a deader but for 'er, an' 'ow she was willin' to become a Christian in 'oly baptism wen she 'ad a chanst, an' 'ow Joe wouldn't never 'ave bin in a 'urry without bridesmaids but for bein' that eager to fight 'is country's foes agin--for of course, sir, 'e 'adn't 'ad a look in at anythin' but beef-tea an' barley water till we took the city.

"'Why doesn't he wait decently till he comes back?' says parson. 'The sacrament of marriage is not a responsibility to be entered into unawares, my good--'

"Joe rose up--Lord bless you!--two 'eads taller nor parson. 'Coom awa'! best man,' 'e says. 'It's waaste toime heere, an' aw'll need tha at t' mosque; pa.s.son theer ar'n't so scrumfumptious, an' she towt ma t' Kulma this marnin' foor fear'--that's their creed, sir, same as the _Gazes_, male an' female, yell when they're a stickin' of you.