Chapter XVI: After Seven Years

We will now pass over seven long years, only lightly glancing at events which immediately followed that recorded in the preceding chapter.

The lifeless body of the unhappy Denis was found by the Afghans before morning. Great was the disappointment of Assad Khan and his followers to find their prisoner dead. Not only were their hopes of a large ransom lost, but they were sorely afraid that the heavy hand of the English Government would come down upon them and crush them, in revenge for the supposed murder of their captive.

"The yellow-haired was a great Amir, a man of mighty wealth, as a prince amongst the Feringhees!" exclaimed Assad Khan. "If it be known that he perished here, there will be a blood-feud between us and the lords of India. They will send an army over the border, and destroy the Eagle's Nest, slay every man that they find, and hang me up with shame and disgrace! He who offends the Feringhees rouses up a tiger who tears and devours. It must never be known that those two Kafirs crossed my threshold."

Walter was in the eyes of the Afghans poor and of little account. It was not supposed that any great search would be made, or large ransom offered for him. He must be kept a close prisoner, and the fact of his having entered the fort remain a profound secret; for, were it known that the one Feringhee was there, the fate of the other would be traced to Assad Khan, and fearful vengeance overtake the chief and all his tribe.

The disappearance of Dermot Denis, though not noticed for a few days, did indeed excite much attention in India, though newspapers at first only told of the adventurous traveller who had, unknown to Government, crossed the border, and for whose safety apprehensions were entertained. After a-while apprehensions increased--not by tales spread by the muleteers, for those unfortunate men had not been suffered to reach India alive, but by the absence of all reliable intelligence of the Irishman and his companion.

Then Government took up the matter. A large reward was offered, and investigations commenced. MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE OF TWO ENGLISHMEN appeared in capitals in every paper, and in mess-room, at dinner-table, in ball-room, the probable fate of the bold adventurers formed a common topic of conversation. But reward offered, and search made were alike unavailing; and other subjects of newer interest took the place of that which at first had been the topic on every tongue.

Denis's relations in Ireland were at first in great trouble about him. His sisters shed floods of tears, his brothers talked of going out themselves to India to prosecute the strictest search. But time wore away the edge of their sorrow. Again the girls danced at the county balls, and enjoyed their picnics and lawn-tennis. The elder of the brothers, in due time, succeeded to the family property; there were hunting and shooting in the fields, revelry and mirth in the mansion whose former master had not even a grave! Poor Dermot was almost forgotten; even his name was seldom mentioned--unless some stranger looking up at the full-length portrait, by an eminent artist, of a gentleman in hunting costume, should chance to inquire, "Who is that splendid-looking young man?" "Oh! poor Dermot, the best fellow in the world--lost in Afghanistan," would be the reply, carelessly given, and immediately, perhaps, followed by a request to pass round the bottle. It is only for a while that the fall of even the largest stone into a lake leaves eddies to tell where it fell. The world's darling passes away, and the thoughtless world laughs on.

Seven years had passed since Denis on his steed, and Walter trudging as his squire on foot, had traversed the mountain road, when a British force, invading Afghanistan, encamped close by the thicket where Sultána had encountered the leopard. Hundreds of camels were crouching on the ground, relieved for a-while from their burdens; hundreds of mules were tethered by the tents. The blare of the bugle, the word of command, the confused noises of a camp resounded in the lately silent pass, and the sunbeams glinted back from bayonet and sword.

"To hero bound for battle strife,
Or bard of martial lay,
'Twere worth ten years of peaceful life
One glance at their array."

A commissariat-officer, burdened with the care of providing for the host, was standing by one of the tents, pencil and note-book in hand, engaged in making some calculation regarding fodder and forage, when he was approached by a stranger of very striking and prepossessing appearance. The Afghan costume set off to advantage a tall and graceful figure, but the countenance and manner were unmistakeably those of an English gentleman. The officer looked up in surprise as he was courteously saluted by the stranger, whose face expressed the emotion naturally felt by one who, after an absence of many years, finds himself again in the midst of his countrymen.

"Whom have I the pleasure of seeing in Afghan disguise?" asked the British officer.

"You are hardly likely, sir, to know a name which its owner has half-forgotten. Seven years ago I was called Walter Gurney."

"Ha! the companion of Dermot Denis the traveller!" exclaimed the officer, as he cordially grasped his countryman's hand. "What a search was made for you both! What has become of Mr. Denis?"

"My unhappy friend died long ago," replied Walter gravely. "He was killed by a fall down a precipice, when trying to make his escape."

"Poor fellow! poor fellow!" said the officer. "This meeting is most interesting. I must introduce you to our Colonel; I will take you at once to his tent."

"Pardon me, sir, but I would rather be introduced to your Chaplain, if there be one with the forces."

"Here he comes," said the officer, as a missionary acting as chaplain approached the spot, attracted by the sight of a European in Afghan costume. "Mr. Coldstream, let me introduce you to Mr. Gurney, a gentleman who was supposed to have been murdered many years ago by the savage Pathans."

The chaplain warmly shook hands with Walter, and congratulated him on his marvellous escape. "Where have you been? how have you been permitted to join us? how have you been treated?" were questions eagerly asked.

"I shall have time to reply as we walk together," said Walter Gurney, "if you, sir, will grant a great favour which I have specially come to ask. Will you spare us two or three hours of your time, and trust yourself to my guidance up a somewhat difficult mountain path? I will be answerable for your safety."

"For what reason do you wish me to go?" asked the Chaplain in some surprise.

Walter's sunburnt face flushed with pleasure as he replied, "A little flock, seven individuals, are anxiously expecting your coming to admit them, by baptism, into the fold of the Christian Church."

The Chaplain's exclamation of surprise was echoed by several Englishmen whom curiosity had drawn around.

"You don't mean Afghans!" cried the commissariat-officer.

"I do mean Afghans," replied Walter, smiling. "There are four women and three men in a fort on yonder height, quite ready to become members of a Christian community."

"I should expect bears and wolves to become Christians before Pathans," laughed a young ensign, who was not a Christian himself.

"Time is precious," said Walter, turning to the Chaplain and gently pressing his point; "I would not have you descend a difficult road in darkness. We can offer you refreshment above. I should be very grateful, Mr. Coldstream, if you could come with me at once."

"We'll come in a party!" cried the merry ensign; "one does not come across such an adventure as this every day."

"Excuse me, sir," said Walter, courteously but firmly; "a British uniform would create suspicion and alarm. Not many of our mountaineers have embraced the Christian faith, and most of them barely tolerate its profession. I promised that I would bring a clergyman, if I could find one--but bring him alone."

"This is really a foolhardy proceeding, Mr. Coldstream," expostulated an elder officer; "you are not likely to be suffered to come back alive."

"I assure you, sir, that there is no danger, or none that would weigh a grain in the balance with a labourer for Christ," said Walter Gurney. "Two of those who are candidates for baptism in the fort are the chief and his wife."

"A miracle! a miracle!" exclaimed the ensign.

"I think that I can be answerable for Mr. Coldstream's returning within three hours," persisted Walter.

"And I hope that you will return with him," cried one of the officers present.

"Yes, I am anxious to avail myself of this opportunity of returning to India," replied Walter. "Not that I have any intention of deserting my Afghan friends; but I wish to prepare myself by study for ordination, that I may be qualified to act as their pastor."

"Oh, you'll think better than that!" cried the ensign, shrugging his shoulders and turning on his heel.

"Once out of the trap, you'll hardly walk back into it with your eyes open," said the commissariat-officer with a smile, as Walter, accompanied by the Chaplain, started for the fort.