Chapter THE TENTH: A Fateful Discovery (8)

Both chafed at their inability to impose any check upon the movement. Rifle fire from their few men would be ineffective in the darkness; it would moreover be a signal to the gunners to sweep the wall with shell. They were not long in doubt as to the enemy's intentions. The noises ceased. It was clear that the Kalmucks were going to wreak vengeance upon the garrison of the mine before continuing their march up stream. Bob recalled the old military maxim: never leave an enemy in your rear. At dawn they would no doubt open fire from the guns placed exactly opposite the mine, and as soon as they discovered the aeroplane on its platform beyond the shoulder of the cliff they would smash it to atoms.

"I've still a few bombs left," said Lawrence. "I might destroy their guns if I could only see them. Isn't there enough acetylene for ten minutes' light, Bob?"

"Not for one, worse luck. You certainly can't do anything in the dark. There's just one chance, though."

"What's that?"

"You could light a big fire on the buttress yonder. It might show just enough light for the purpose."

"I'll try it. I tell you what: I'll fire the shed itself, with a lot of combustibles inside. We can easily build another afterwards if Endicott gets rid of the enemy."

"We shan't want to do that. If we're alive to-morrow morning we shan't think of staying here any longer."

"Leave the mine, you mean?"

"Yes: take poor old Uncle's silver ore to India and sell it for what it's worth. I don't know how much that will be, but it ought to give us enough money to keep us while we're looking round for some other job: I've had enough of mining. In any case we couldn't stay here. The place would remind us too much of Uncle and all the tragic horrors."

"You're right: though I don't like the idea of caving in. Now I'll get some of the men to carry grease and things to the shed. Can Chunda give me some grub? I'm very hungry."

"We've got all our provisions either here or in the galleries. We were very lucky to have so much; it will last for two or three weeks more."

While Lawrence made his supper, Fyz Ali and three or four other Pathans conveyed to the platform combustibles of all kinds, returning with the ammunition sent by Major Endicott. Then Bob insisted on Lawrence's sleeping for a few hours. About three o'clock in the morning Lawrence returned with Fazl to the aeroplane. They kindled several fires in the shed, leaving the door open. When the flames gave them light enough, they started the engine and flew off up the river, hearing sounds of commotion among the enemy on the track. Never having flown by night before, Lawrence was rather nervous; but he reached the turning-place safely, wheeled round without mishap, and flew northwards into the stretch of a few hundred yards now illuminated by the blazing shed.

There were four bombs left. Lawrence had instructed Fazl to drop two as they passed over the guns, reserving the other two for use as they returned if they should discover that the first had not been effective. They saw two guns placed on the track just opposite the bridge. The Gurkha, leaning over perilously, let fall two bombs together. There was a terrific crash and a babel of yells; but they could not yet tell what damage had been done. The aeroplane was beyond the illuminated area, and Lawrence had to concentrate his attention on the machine as he flew northwards in the darkness. He felt that he could not risk an attempt to turn until he reached the wide space seven miles down stream, and he was very anxious lest the engine should fail for want of petrol before he could get back. It was quite clear that to bring Major Endicott's advanced party of twelve into the mine was now impossible. By the time the aeroplane should have reached its platform, if it did so, every ounce of fuel would be used up.

For safety's sake he rose to a considerable height. The grey light of dawn was stealing over the summits of the hills. He turned and flew back, watching the engine nervously. As soon as he came to the neighbourhood of the mine, he saw the enemy scuttling away from the track into nooks and crannies in the face of the cliff. The sound of the propeller had been the signal for a general _sauve qui peut_. Fazl dropped his last two bombs opposite the bridge, and then the aeroplane passed into the cloud of smoke drifting up and across the river from the conflagration.

Lawrence saw that the petrol would not last another three minutes. He utilised the expiring power of the engine to rise still higher, so that when it failed he would be at a sufficient altitude to make a long vol plane back to his platform. He had just turned when he detected a lessening of power. The engine began to splutter; then it ceased to work.

It was a terrifying moment. In the darkness he could not read the aneroid that indicated his altitude. He did not know whether the angle of the descent which had already begun would bring him to earth before he reached the platform. Gently, easily as the machine swooped down, it might land him on the track where he would be completely at the mercy of the enemy. He looked anxiously ahead. The flaming shed came in sight, but dimmed by the pall of smoke that lay over the bottom of the gorge. He steered into the smoke towards the platform, but, half blinded by the reek, he missed it, and only by a sudden movement of the lever, that was itself almost disastrous, did he save the machine from dashing against the cliff. Luckily the smoke hid him from the enemy. By another dexterous feat of steering he rounded the bend, and in a few seconds dropped with a quivering shock upon the fence that separated the Pathans' from the Kalmucks' compound. With every nerve jarring he sprang out of his seat. Fazl followed him, and between them they dragged the aeroplane from its uneasy perch and laid it behind the fence. Even now his chief thought was to protect from the enemy's fire the machine which had served him so well. Only when it was quite invisible to them did he hasten across the compound, scale the second fence in the darkness, and rejoin his brother in the sheltered nook behind the house.

"Just managed it!" he panted, throwing himself down. "The engine failed; I missed the platform, and came down on the fence. The chassis is rather rumpled, but no other damage done. I should have been wild if the machine had come utterly to grief."

"It's more important that you're safe, old boy," said Bob. "Did you succeed?"

"Morning will show. Fazl declares that he hit the guns; I don't know. I wish I could have brought those men of Endicott's in. I dare say they heard me as I passed over the track, and are wondering why I didn't come down for them."

"We can't help it. I only hope the Major himself started in time."

Dawn was stealing down into the valley. Ganda Singh crept on all fours to the wall and peeped over. In a few minutes he returned and reported that there was nothing opposite the bridge but a mass of broken rock and metal. The guns had been destroyed. But the Kalmucks were scattered along the track between the bridge and the bend, crouching behind rocks and entrenchments which they had thrown up during the night. Apparently they were unaware of the descent of the aeroplane, and dreaded another attack by bombs.

It was hardly light when a fierce bombardment broke out from the bend. Shells crashed upon the northern wall, and whistled into the deserted compounds, scattering earth in all directions, and filling the air with noisome fumes.

"We're safe here for the present," said Bob, whose face looked pinched and pale in the light of the morning. "But when they find we don't reply, and there's no other attack from the aeroplane, they'll bring their guns along and pound us from the opposite bank. When it gets too hot we must go into the galleries. Before they can repair the bridge and cross, Endicott ought to be here."

He had scarcely spoken when a shell plumped into the house, and set it on fire. The garrison were enveloped in a mantle of smoke. But as the smoke drifted across the river, the Kalmucks, taking courage from the quiescence of the defenders, rushed forward from their shelters and began to throw a light framework over the torrent between the rock in midstream and the end of the ruined bridge. The sudden cessation of the bombardment gave Bob an inkling of what was to come; next moment loud yells from beyond the river made it clear.

"They're coming at us," he said quietly to Lawrence. "They must have made a bridge. We can't retreat now. You must do your best, old chap."

Though Lawrence begged him to remain on his chair, Bob got up and accompanied the little band as they rushed towards the river wall to meet the storming party. They were no more than thirty; the track swarmed with the enemy. The improvised bridge would not support more than thirty at a time, so that the attackers and the defenders of the wall were equal in point of number; but the Kalmucks had posted many sharpshooters in the rocks above the track, who could fire over their comrades' heads and pick off the garrison manning the wall and the gap where the end of the drawbridge had been.

It was a fierce and terrible struggle hand to hand. The defenders could deal only with the storming party; they had no leisure to attend to the half-concealed marksmen among the rocks. With bayonet, clubbed rifle, sword and miner's pick they sought desperately to stem the attack. Gur Buksh had distributed the Sikhs among the miners to give them steadiness; but the Pathans, inspired by the fury of their own leaders, Fyz Ali and Muhammad Din, needed no encouragement from the disciplined men. Shan Tai and Chunda Beg had thrown themselves into the fray with picks. Of all the little community only Ditta Lai and the Bengali servants remained in the rear; they were physically unfit to bear a part in the great fight. It was much to their credit that, at this crisis in affairs, they did not cower in frantic terror, but toiled hard to raise a rampart of boxes, tins, and bags of earth opposite the mouth of the gallery.

Regardless of the fusillade, Bob and Lawrence went from end to end of the line, cheering the men, rallying them when they showed signs of being forced back by the onrush of the yelling enemy. Again and again the assault was beaten back. At one moment the end of the bridge was heaped high with the men thrust back from the wall. The river received many dead and wounded forms, and bore down some who, though unhurt, had been hurled or jostled off the bridge. But the garrison were dropping man by man. Gur Buksh, conspicuous by his height, fell to a bullet. Ganda Singh fought on, though a bayonet had transfixed his arm. Fyz Ali was shot as he was in the act of bringing the butt of his rifle down upon the head of a big Kalmuck who was forcing his way through the narrow gap into the compound. Bob, fainting from his former hurts, sank down unconscious among his wounded men. As yet unscathed, Lawrence stood in the gap, and the number of prostrate forms in front of him bore witness to his unfaltering vigour. Next to him Fazl, whose low stature rendered him immune from the sniping shots of the enemy, darted forth whenever he saw an opportunity of using his kukuri, and sprang nimbly back before he could be touched.

But Lawrence's heart sank as he saw his devoted little band becoming less and less. He had no reserves. There was no limit to the number that the enemy could throw against him. The crowd on the bridge never diminished. As soon as one man fell his place was taken from behind. From sheer exhaustion the defenders could not stem the torrent many minutes longer. Their arms were aching and numbed almost to the point of paralysis. The frequent alarms and broken rest of seven days and nights were telling on their hardy frames. Lawrence, swinging his rifle like a flail, expected at every stroke that his muscles would refuse to lift the weapon for another. Missing Bob's cheering cries, he gave a rapid glance round, and seeing his brother on the ground, he was just making up his mind that the time had come for a general retreat to the galleries, their last line of defence, when there came the sudden crackle of rifles from a new direction. It was on the right. There was a cheer, very different from the shrill cries of the Kalmucks, and then confused cries all around. The firing from the rocks had ceased. At a second volley the Kalmucks on the bridge halted in surprise and hesitation. Lawrence guessed what had happened. Seizing the moment, he shouted to his men to follow him, and springing from the wall, led them in a fierce rush on to the bridge. They swept the enemy before them, cutting down one, tumbling another into the stream.

On the track a disorderly terrified crowd were rushing past the bridge towards the north, masking the fire of their own guns at the bend. Behind them at a gallop came fifty sowars of the Border force, led by Major Endicott himself. They swept on through the panic-stricken mob, upon whom, as the horsemen passed, the garrison from their post on the bridge opened a withering fire. Major Endicott and his troopers pushed on and on, driving the enemy, some before them, some into the river, some up the rugged hillside. They did not halt until they reached the guns. There were a few minutes of desperate fighting about them; then the gunners were cut down, and the swarms behind were in full flight down the track. At a word from the Major half the sowars leapt from their horses, slewed the guns round, and sent shell after shell among the frenzied crowd until the whole track within sight was clear of living men. And Bob woke to consciousness to hear his brother's voice lead the men in a ringing cheer. The mine was saved; the enemy had been held in check for a week; every man had done his duty.

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-NINTH

REUNION

Major Endicott left his men at the bend, and galloped back to the bridge. Dismounting there, he pressed Lawrence's hand warmly.

"Well played, sir!" he said. "Where's your brother?"

"In the compound, Major. He's all right, I think: that is, he wasn't hit this morning; but he was wounded yesterday, and is rather off colour."

"The doctor will be up in a few minutes. He was just behind me; and Fenton will arrive with the rest of the men and the guns in about an hour. I pushed on ahead when I heard the bombardment."

"Just in time! We couldn't have held out another five minutes."

"I'm glad we managed it," said the Major simply.

"Come and see Bob. They've burnt our house, and we can't make you very comfortable."

"My dear boy, comfort is ruin to a soldier. Ah! here's Coats; he'd better have a look at your brother at once."

The doctor rode up with another score of troopers. These the Major ordered to remain on guard at the bridge, in case the Kalmucks who were still scattered here and there on the track and the hillside should show any disposition to rally. Then the two officers crossed with Lawrence into the compound. Bob had been carried back to his chair by Shan Tai and the khansaman. The doctor made a brief examination of his wounds, got out some lint and lotion, and as he bandaged him declared that he would be quite sound in a few days. Then he went off to attend to the other wounded--almost every man of the little company. Ten had been killed outright; two were so severely injured that recovery was hopeless; the rest would be well sooner or later. Among these were Fyz Ali and Gur Buksh, though the Sikh's arm had to be amputated.

"I was never so glad of anything as I am to hand things over to you, Major," said Bob.

Major Endicott was seated on an upturned box beside his chair, with a biscuit in one hand and a hunk of corned beef in the other.

"Well, you know, I feel rather mean," he said munching. "Capital stuff, this! ... All the credit is yours and Lawrence's, and I shan't fail to say so. It's a thousand pities you are not both in the service. By the way, I saw as I came up that your aeroplane had come to grief, and it was a great relief to see Lawrence safe and sound."

"It wasn't ours," replied Bob, who then related in brief the events of the previous day.

"That's amazing. Then I suppose Lawrence can still use your machine for scouting if necessary?"

"We've no more petrol, unfortunately. What do you intend to do, then?"

"First of all secure our position here as soon as Fenton comes up. We'll make it impossible for the enemy to get round that bend yonder. Then we'll follow up the runaways and shepherd them out of the valley."

"There's such a lot of them, and you've so few!"

"But they can't extend on this narrow track, and my few will be a match for them. They'll soon give it up as hopeless, and draw off to rejoin their huge army operating in Afghanistan. This week's delay has been our salvation. The Chief is moving up a large force to hold the passes south, and our flank is secure--a handsome feather in your cap, my lad. When I am sure that the valley is clear I shall return to the frontier, and of course you and your men must come too. You won't want to hold on here now that your poor uncle is gone?"

"No: we had already made up our minds to that."

"I don't want to be inquisitive, but--er--have you--in short, what's your financial position, Bob?"

"I don't know. We had very little money, of course; everything in the house is burnt, including Uncle's cheque book, and all his papers. I don't know what he left, but I suppose there'll be no difficulty in proving our title to what there is?"

"None at all, I should think, though I'm not up in law. You've got some ore worked, of course; copper, isn't it? Pity it isn't gold."

"There's better than copper, at all events. There's a heap of unworked ore in a cavity just beyond the compound, and Uncle said it's almost pure silver."

"That's first-rate. I recommend you to set the men to get it up at once. We'll transport it to India somehow or other, and I'm sure I hope it'll make you millionaires."

"Not much chance of that," said Bob with a smile. "But it will give us something to jog along with."

"You must be ready to start almost at once. We marched light; I've food for only two or three days, and short commons at that. This corned beef is very good: any more of it?"

"I'll inquire of my store-keeper. I haven't seen him lately: he wasn't in the fighting line, and I dare say he's alive."

When Captain Fenton with the remainder of the relieving force arrived, the men were set to work after a meal to render the track impassable. It was fortified at the bend with a series of entrenchments and wire entanglements, space being left only for horsemen to pass in single file. Before the enemy had recovered from the shock of their reverse, the position which had given them so much trouble when defended by a mere handful of almost untrained men was rendered ten times more formidable, and held by ten times as many trained troops. On the next day they felt forward with their artillery, but being met by a hail of shells from the mountain batteries, they soon withdrew their guns, and finally turned their backs on the scene of their wasted labours.

Major Endicott followed them down the valley with the greater part of his force, Lawrence accompanying him on one of the troopers' horses. He took two guns in case they should turn at bay, but they showed the utmost alacrity in retreating, and for many miles only the stragglers of their rearguard were ever in sight. When the pursuers, however, were within a short distance of the scene of Lawrence's little engagement on the way back from the bridge, they noticed a number of Kalmucks marching over the hills to the left. They were no doubt following the path by which the Kalmucks on that occasion had managed to outflank Lawrence's party. There being none of the enemy in sight along the track, Major Endicott deemed it necessary to climb into the hills and pursue the fugitives until he had made sure that no concentration was being attempted.

He left half his party with the guns on the track to continue their march, and began to climb. It was a breakneck path, narrow, tortuous, and at times so steep that the troopers had to dismount and lead their horses carefully. They made slow progress, and when the Major reached a more level stretch and, looking through his field-glass, no longer saw any sign of the enemy, he decided that it would be waste of time and energy to follow any farther.

He had just given the order to retire when the figure of a man suddenly appeared from the entrance of a ravine a few hundred yards ahead, and walked towards the troop, holding his hands above his head. Thinking that he was one of the enemy intending to surrender, the Major waited.

"I know that man," said Lawrence after a few moments. "He's an old Uzbek fellow, who lives quite alone somewhere in these hills, no one knows where. He comes to the mine at long intervals to buy food and ammunition in exchange for the horns and skins of _Ovis poli_. I suppose he's on his way there now."

"Can you understand his lingo?"

"No; my uncle was the only one of us who could talk to him."

The man approached. He was a strange object, the wrinkled skin of his face yellow like old ivory, a ragged white beard hanging almost to his waist. When he came up, he made some sort of salutation to Lawrence, and another to the Major, then muttered the word _kuzur_.

"We all know what that means," said the Major; but he paused, struck by an eager look in Lawrence's eyes as the old man made some pantomimic gestures and pointed in the direction whence he had come. Lawrence sprang from his horse.

"He wants me to go with him, Major," he said hurriedly. "I believe--I hardly dare think it----"

He did not wait to complete the sentence, but followed the old man, who was already walking back. They came to a narrow ravine, which wound away into the hillside towards the river, always at a steep descent. Passing along it, they came after some minutes to a well-built akoi, around which several skins lay drying. The man led Lawrence to the entrance, and motioned to him to go in.

The lad's heart was beating tumultuously. He paused a moment at the low opening, shrinking lest what he was about to see were a culminating spectacle of woe. In the middle of the tent there was a fire, the smoke of which passed out through a hole in the dome-shaped roof. Crushing down his agitation, he stepped in, his tread falling noiseless on a floor of thick skin rugs. Just beyond the fire lay the still form of a man. Holding his breath, Lawrence bent down, and looked upon the face of his uncle, asleep.

Though his footsteps had been silent, the fact of his presence seemed to penetrate the consciousness of the sleeping man. He opened his eyes.

"Ah, Lawrence," he said, "what is this I hear about great guns?"

Lawrence could not speak. He clasped his uncle's hand, and felt with a kind of surprise that it was warm as his own.

"Poor old boy! I expect you've had a bad time," Mr. Appleton went on. "But I couldn't let you know that I was all right."

"I can hardly believe it. It seems too good to be true. We'd long ago given you up."

"Long ago! Why, goodness alive! how long have I been here then?"

And then Lawrence remembered that it was only a fortnight since that unlucky pursuit of Nurla Bai.

"It seems an age," he said. "But how splendid it is, Uncle! Bob and everybody will be simply wild with delight. You're not ill, are you?" he asked, noticing that his uncle remained flat on his back.

"I'm never ill, as you know! But old What's-his-name is not much of a surgeon, and I'm helpless with a broken thigh or something of the sort. That rascal Nurla Bai only gave me a flesh wound, which is healed now; but when I fell I came down too heavily on a rock beneath the surface, and smashed myself. The old man happened to be fishing close by----"

"I remember: we found a fishing net when we were searching for you."

"I was carried within reach of him, and he drew me ashore to a cavern under the cliff. Of course I was senseless, and the old man seems to have been scared out of his wits by the aeroplane, or he would have shown up when you were looking for me. Anyway, he carried me to this place, which appears to be only a few feet above the bank, and here he has looked after me ever since. When I came to myself, I explained what had happened, and asked him to walk up to the mine to tell you that I was alive. He went off, but returned with a story about a whole army marching up, and fighting, and big guns, and what not. So I simply had to make the best of it, though I knew that you must think me dead. Now, what is this all about?"

"I'll tell you everything when I get you home, Uncle. Major Endicott is here----"

"Thinks me mad, you know."

"With a lot of troopers, and they must sling up a horse-litter for you. We've got Captain Coats at the mine--an army surgeon, you know; he'll see what's really the matter with you."

"Any other strangers? Billeting is rather expensive. But I'm talking nonsense. Get me out of this as soon as you like. It's a very comfortable hut, but not like home, and I long to see old Chunda Beg's serious phiz, and--yes, hear the Babu's chatter. And I want to know----"

"Yes, there are heaps of things to explain," Lawrence interrupted. "I'll run and tell the Major."

"And I say, in case I forget it, I promised to give old Stick-in-the-mud a pound of tobacco when I got back. Remind me."

Lawrence hurried out, fearing that weakness had made his uncle rather light-headed. On his acquainting the Major with his amazing discovery, and explaining that the akoi appeared to be very near the river, the order was at once given to return to the track. There they met the other half of the party, who reported that the bridge down stream had collapsed under the hurried flight of the enemy. Their rearguard had evidently elected to try the difficult mountain track rather than risk being caught.

Lawrence went down the track with the Major and two troopers, and were soon met by the old Uzbek, whose name no one knew. He conducted them along a narrow parting in the rocks till they reached his akoi. With his aid a litter of skins was rigged up, and on this Mr. Appleton was carried down to the track. There the litter was slung between two horses, and the rest of the journey to the mine was accomplished slowly indeed, but in comfort.

On the way Major Endicott, at Mr. Appleton's entreaty, gave him a succinct account of what had happened during his absence.

"I wish I'd been there, egad!" he ejaculated, as he heard of his nephews' gallant defence. "But no: they've had a chance to show what stuff they're made of; my assistance would have ruined it. D'you still think I'm mad, Endicott?"

"Well--perhaps a trifle light-headed--owing to your illness, you know," answered the Major in some confusion.

"That's not what I meant," said Mr. Appleton with twinkling eyes. "You thought me chronically mad, fit for Bedlam. Oh! you needn't apologize: all you frontier fellows did. 'Poor old Harry,' you know. 'Only a madman would think of mining in the Hindu Kush!' But where would you have been without the mine, eh? Where would you have been, the whole dashed lot of you, without the mine and my young nephews? I tell you what, sir, my mine has been the saving of India, and don't you forget it."

"We shan't do that, Appleton, I assure you," said the Major, willing to humour him.

"Yes; my mine, and one other thing: Bob's aeroplane. What you want, my dear sir, to keep India safe, is a corps of air patrols, with Bob as boss and Lawrence as second in command. We've got the finest navy in the world: for its size we've got the finest army; and we ought to wake up and get the finest air fleet, and the finest corps of airmen that can be trained. That's my opinion."

There is no need to describe the scenes of wild excitement and jubilation at the mine when Mr. Appleton was carried among his people. The surgeon's report after examination of the fractured limb was a surprise to everybody. He said that the old Uzbek, by skill or good luck, had done just what an experienced surgeon would have done in the absence of proper splints. The fracture was a simple one, the bone was already joining up, and there would be no risk in conveying Mr. Appleton in the horse-litter by easy stages to India.

Preparations for departure were hurried on. With the aid of the troopers, the Pathans put up in a day a temporary shed for the accommodation of the Englishmen. Then they set about hoisting the silver ore from its cavity in the bank of the river to the compound above. The transportation of twenty tons of ore over rough country without suitable vehicles was a matter that gave everybody much concern. It was ultimately decided that as much as possible should be carried by the men and animals, the remainder being left, to be fetched subsequently by a host of carriers whom Fyz Ali undertook to enlist. Every man of the garrison was delighted with the promise of treble pay for the fortnight of Mr. Appleton's absence, and Major Endicott did not despair of extracting a grant from Government in recognition of their services to the Empire.

On the night before the southward march was to be begun, the Englishmen were provided by Shan Tai with a supper on which he lavished all the resources of his art. Corned beef and other tinned comestibles appeared in various disguises, and Mr. Appleton, reclining on his chair, mildly expostulated with the Chinaman for deferring this triumphant exhibition of his skill until the eve of the abandonment of the mine. Healths were drunk in water and coffee, the only beverages available, and the store-sheds having luckily escaped injury, Mr. Appleton was able to offer his guests some excellent cigars.

When all were contentedly smoking, Mr. Appleton said:

"I want to take you men into my confidence, and ask your advice. As you know, I have decided to close down here. I had already decided to do so at the end of this summer: recent events have only anticipated it by a few weeks."

"Congratulations," said Major Endicott. "I suppose you've made your pile."

"A very modest pile. Sixty per cent. of that ore is pure silver, and it will fetch something like L50,000. That of course I shall invest."

"Choose a good security," said the Major.

"No more hair-brained adventures, you mean! Really, Major, you must try to disabuse your mind of the notion that I am mad. Now, I am going to retire. Yesterday was my fifty-third birthday; I have knocked about enough; my tastes are simple: and I've enough to live on apart from the silver.

"You wonder, I dare say, why I brought my nephews out here only a few months before the date I had fixed on for giving up the mine. I'll tell you. I didn't know the boys, and wanted to study them at close quarters, and see for myself what they were good for. I am quite satisfied. The probation they have come through during the last few days would convince any one."

"I should rather think so," said the Major emphatically.

"Well now, what do you advise? What shall I do with them?"

"Let 'em both join the service; I recommend that without hesitation," said the Major.

"Hear! hear!" Captain Fenton ejaculated.

"Would they have you back at Sandhurst, Bob?" asked his uncle.

"No need for that," exclaimed the Major. "The Chief will give him a commission in the Indian army straight away when I've had a talk with him."

"Will that suit you, Bob?"

"I couldn't wish for anything more splendid," said Bob, flushing with pleasure.

"That's settled then. And you, Lawrence?"

"The same for him, of course," said the Major.

"It's uncommonly good of you," said Lawrence, "but--well, I'm not cut out for a soldier."

"Rubbish, sir. I wish all my subalterns were like you."

"What's your notion then?" asked Mr. Appleton.

"Well, Uncle, I was going to Oxford, you know, but I'm afraid I shall be too old for a scholarship next year, and--and it would cost too much without."

Lawrence spoke awkwardly, colouring to the roots of his hair.

"You could manage on L400 a year, I suppose?" said Mr. Appleton, dryly.

"Much less, Uncle. I know a chap who did jolly well on L200, and saved."

"What will you do when you come down? Take a clerkship at thirty shillings a week, or teach little ruffians good cricket and bad Latin on forty?"

"I thought of trying for the Indian Civil, Uncle. I should like it immensely after being out here."

"Stiff exam, isn't it?"

"I can swat, sir."

"I believe you can! Well, I'm going to settle my silver money on Bob and you." [Here there was what the reporters call a "sensation."] "It should bring in L1500 a year even in the safest security. You shall have L400 each until you're twenty-five; after that you'll share the whole lot equally between you. Think I'm mad, Major?"

"I wish you'd bite an old uncle of mine," said the Major with a laugh. "I congratulate you young fellows; you deserve it all."

The boys were overwhelmed with their good luck, and their uncle's generosity. They stammered out their thanks; then, desiring to talk things over quietly between themselves, they got up and went out.

They strolled up and down the compound, looking with the mind's eye into the vista opening so brightly before them, discussing plans with youthful eagerness and optimism, voting their uncle a "trump," a "brick," a "ripping old boy," and employing the hundred and one meaningless phrases with which Englishmen are wont to dissemble their feelings. It is only the bare truth to say that their deepest satisfaction and thankfulness sprang from reunion with their uncle.

Presently Bob noticed, in the gloom, Ditta Lal pacing slowly along by the cliff wall.

"Hallo, Babu!" he called. "Come here. I want to speak to you."

The Bengali drew near, and as he came within the candlelight beaming through the open doorway of the shed, they noticed that he wore a very dejected look.

"I want to thank you," continued Bob. "Chunda Beg told me that while the fight was going on you were heaping up that rampart yonder. It was well thought of; we're indebted to you."

The Babu's face lit up for a moment as he bowed his acknowledgments; but it instantly clouded over again.

"You don't look very happy," said Lawrence. "What's the matter?"

"It is a complicated case, sir," said the Babu mournfully. "Diagnosis easy, but as for remedies that touch the spot, alas! _non est_, or more correctly, _non sunt_."

"What's wrong? Out with it, man," said Bob.

"Imprimis and in first place, sir, I droop in shade of impending calamity--regular sword of Damocles. I learn from esteemed avuncular relative, whose return to wonted haunts fills bitter cup of rejoicing to overflowing and slops, that he abandons commercial avocation, rests on his oars and laurels, and subsides into lassitude of adipose retirement. Every man to his gout, sir; but what is one man's alimentary nourishment is another man's happy dispatch. In short, young sirs, where do I come in?"

"Well, I'll tell you a secret," said Bob. "In recognition of your valuable services, and your willingness to help in all sorts of ways out of your own line, my uncle is going to make you a present of L50 when you leave his employment."

"Jolly good tip, sir," said the Babu, brightening. "To use vulgar tongue, Burra Sahib is ripping old josser, and no mistakes. But for one harrowing reflection, carking care, sir, and fly in ointment, I should be restored to normal hilarity and cock-a-hoopness."

"Well?"

"You observe, sir, that while honourable superior persons are engaged in temperate carousal and fumigation, there is absence of mafficking and horseplays among small fry; no beer and skittles, sir. That lies like leaden hundred-weight upon my bounding bosom. I attribute it to vacuous cavity in my brain-pan, or possibly erratic convulsions of grey matter. I spoke of organising tamasha, you remember--regular orgy of intellectual fireworks and monkey tricks, the set piece and tour de force of which was to be ode, elegy, or comic song penned by humble and obsequious servant. Would you believe it! Though I have scorned delights and lived laborious days, crowned my noble brow with sopped tea-cloth, imbibed oceans of coffee, black as your hat, and performed other rites enjoined by custom and recollections of stewing for exams--in spite of stupendous and praiseworthy efforts, that monument of literary agility is yet only shapeless block, sir: in short, I haven't done it."

"That's a pity," said Lawrence, repressing a smile. "Inspiration ran short, eh?"

"No, sir, inspiration flows unchecked, a mild pellucid stream. Failure is due to intractable and churlish disposition of English lingo. I write a magnificent and lovely line, to wit--

"The solar luminary winked his bloodshot orb--

and then beat coverts for a rhyme: cui bono and what's the use? How true it is that fine words butter no parsnips! My note-book is chock full of similar felicitous lines, left in single blessedness and mere oblivion for want of an accommodating partner, or, as I may say, eligible parti."

"Why not try blank verse, then?" said Bob.

"Blank verse is like blank cartridge, sir, suitable for reviews and sham-fights--that is to say, for long-winded epics and rigmaroles about nothing in particular; but not for battle pieces, in which you need clink-clank and rum-ti-tum to achieve truly martial effects."

"I should like to see what you've done, though," said Lawrence.

"Well begun is half done, proverb runs; fallacious and tommy rot, sir. I began well; I will exhibit, commending to you beautiful aphorism of some precious and defunct poet now forgotten, namely, 'We may our ends by our beginnings know.'"

He drew a roll of paper from his pocket, and moving towards the lighted doorway, spread it before their eyes. This is what they read--

ODE

_in celebration of gorgeous defence of gorge
by two young English sirs,
who with handful of rude mechanicals,
dauntless breasts
and flying machine, 100 h.p.,
withstood the mights of twenty thousand Mongols.
Written at request of one of aforesaid sirs,
Mr. ROBERT APPLETON, Esquire, etc.,
by
DITTA LAL,
B.A. Calcutta University._

Here the page ended. Lawrence turned over: the back was blank.

"Where's the rest?" he asked.

"There's the rub, sir. The rest is dispersed through many pages of my note-book, high and dry, pearls of poesy, gems of purest ray serene, waiting leisure and a rhyming dictionary to thread them into perfect and resplendent ornament."

"Well, finish it when you have time. You can send it to us, you know."

"Registered, sir. I will do so without failings, and earn the meed of melodious tear or two, if not penny a line."

Rolling up the paper, he returned to his own quarters, followed by eyes mirthful but compassionate.

The campaign in Afghanistan lasted for several months after the check given to the flanking force in the valley. The Mongols having obtained a firm grip of the country around Kabul, it was difficult to dislodge them, though they never succeeded in forcing the passes into India. As the struggle developed, and the British Indian army took the offensive, the Afghans, who had by this time found the Mongols unpleasant guests, and begun to doubt their value as allies, quarrelled with the invaders, and either withdrew into their remotest and least accessible hills, or took sides actively against them. This was the beginning of the end. The horses which, if the early raids had been successful, would have proved a tremendous asset to the enemy, were in a prolonged check in Afghanistan a serious handicap. It became impossible to feed them. The Mongol host lost its mobility, and found itself pent up in a mountainous region where supplies even for the men failed.

The story of the great retreat cannot be told in these pages. When once the retrograde movement began, every armed man in Afghanistan and Northern Persia hasted like a sleuth-hound in pursuit. Only a fraction of the half-million invaders returned to Tashkend and beyond.

A year or two afterwards, when the invasion was passing into the oblivion which soon swallows up even the greatest events of the hurrying modern world, two of the actors in this little drama had their memories recalled to it by a trifling street scene. Colonel Sir Herbert Endicott and Lieutenant Robert Appleton were walking through the bazaar at Lahore when they met an old fakir striding along. They were struck by his vacant gaze, and the incessant muttering of his lips.

"You heard what he said, Bob?" said the Colonel, as the tall, lean, half-naked figure swung by.

"Yes," replied Bob, who was becoming an expert in the Border dialects. "'I am a sharpener of swords,' wasn't it?"

And his thoughts flew back to that first journey through the hills.

"The poor wretch is clearly mad," said the Colonel. "I fear the sword he sharpened has wounded his own hand. Let's hope it will always be so with rebels and malcontents. There's this good come out of it, at any rate: we have learnt to sharpen our own swords, and not to grudge the expense.... When do you expect your new aeroplane?"

"Pretty soon. It's a ripper, but I shan't like it so well as the old one. Old friends are best."

"Does that hold with aeroplanes as with men, I wonder? Anyhow, I wish you luck with it. Shall we turn?"

THE END

Richard Clay & Sons, Limited London and Bungay.