Cover
NURLA BAI ASCENDS. See page [405]
THE AIR PATROL
A STORY
OF THE NORTH-WEST FRONTIER
BY
HERBERT STRANG
ILLUSTRATED BY CYRUS CUNEO
LONDON
HENRY FROWDE
HODDER AND STOUGHTON
1913
RICHARD CLAY & SONS, LIMITED,
BRUNSWICK STREET, STAMFORD STREET, S.E.,
AND BUNGAY, SUFFOLK.
PREFACE
It needs no gift of prophecy to foretell that in the not distant future the fate of empires will be decided neither on land nor on the sea, but in the air. We have already reached a stage in the evolution of the aeroplane and airship at which a slight superiority in aircraft may turn the scale in battle. Our imperial destinies may hinge upon the early or later recognition of the importance of a large, well-equipped, and well-manned aerial fleet.
In The Air Scout I endeavoured to illustrate the part which an air-service may play in a combined naval and military campaign. The scene of the present story is laid among the vast mountain ranges of Northern India, where the issue of a great war may depend upon the aerial equipment of the opposing armies.
Some two thousand years ago a handful of devoted Greeks held the narrow pass of Thermopylae against the myriad host of Xerxes, in the noble effort to save their country from the Persian yoke. The following pages tell the story of a new--and a more fortunate--Thermopylae, an episode in a great struggle for the mastery of India. I am among those who believe that the spirit which animated the Spartan heroes of old burns in our British youth to-day. Only opportunity and a great occasion are needed to evoke it to glorious use.
HERBERT STRANG.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER THE FIRST
CHAPTER THE SECOND
CHAPTER THE THIRD
CHAPTER THE FOURTH
CHAPTER THE FIFTH
CHAPTER THE SIXTH
CHAPTER THE SEVENTH
CHAPTER THE EIGHTH
CHAPTER THE NINTH
CHAPTER THE TENTH
CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH
CHAPTER THE TWELFTH
CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH
[THE REVOLT OF THE KALMUCK MINERS]
CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH
CHAPTER THE FIFTEENTH
CHAPTER THE SIXTEENTH
CHAPTER THE SEVENTEENTH
CHAPTER THE EIGHTEENTH
CHAPTER THE NINETEENTH
CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIRST
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SECOND
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-THIRD
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FOURTH
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIFTH
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SIXTH
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SEVENTH
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-EIGHTH
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-NINTH
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
[NURLA BAI ASCENDS] (see page [405]) . . . . . . Frontispiece
[THE AMBUSH AT THE REST-HOUSE]
[RECONNOITRING IN THE AEROPLANE]
[THE KALMUCKS MAKE A PRISONER]
INTRODUCTORY
A summer afternoon was dwindling to night over a wild solitude among the borderlands of Northern India. The sun had already left the deep spacious valley, wherein, as the light waned, the greens changed to browns, the browns deepened to black, and the broad silver band that denoted a stream flowing along the bottom was dulled to the hue of lead. On the west, the harsh and rugged features of the mountains, towering to incalculable heights, were softened by the increasing shade; while the snowy summits, flushed by the declining rays, were scarcely distinguishable from the roseate clouds. Away to the east, where the sunlight still lingered, the huge mountain barrier showed every gradation of tone, from the greenish-black of the pine forest at the foot, through varieties of purple and grey, to the mingled pink and gold of the topmost crests. Every knob and fissure on the scarred face was defined and accentuated, until, as the curtain of shadow stole gradually higher, outlines were blurred, and the warm tints faded into drabs and greys.
Along the front of the mountains on the west there was a road--a track, rather, which might have seemed to the fancy to be desperately clinging to the rugged surface, lest it were hurled into the precipitous valley beneath. It followed every jut and indentation of the rock, here broadening, narrowing there until it was no more than a shelf; with twists and bends so abrupt and frequent that it would have been hard to find a stretch of fifty yards that could have been called straight.
Three horsemen were riding slowly northward along this mountain road, picking their way heedfully over its inequalities, edging nearer to the wall of rock on their left hand as they came to spots where a false step would have carried them into the abyss. To a distant observer it would have appeared as though they were moving without support on the very face of the mountain. They wore European garments, and the briefest inspection of their features would have sufficed to tell that they were Englishmen. Behind them, at some little distance, rode eight or ten bearded men of swarthy hue, whose turbans, tunics, and long boots proclaimed them as sowars of a regiment of Border cavalry. Still farther behind, in a long straggling line, came a caravan of laden mules, each in charge of a half-naked Astori. The tail of this singular procession, perhaps a mile behind the head, consisted of two native troopers like those who preceded them.
It was now nearly dark. Presently the three Englishmen halted, and the eldest of them, turning in his saddle, addressed a few words in Urdu to the dafadar of the sowars behind. The riders, English and native alike, dismounted, and led their horses up a slight ascent to the left, halting again when they reached a stretch of level ground which the leader had marked as a suitable camping place. A thin rill trickled musically down at the edge of this convenient plateau, forming a small quagmire in its passage across the track, and plunging over the brink to merge in the broader stream, now obliterated by the night, hundreds of feet below. The three Englishmen tethered their horses to some young pines that bounded the level space, then sat themselves upon a neighbouring rock, lit their pipes, and looked on in silence as the dusky troopers removed their saddle-bags and stood in patient expectancy.
By and by the head of the mule train appeared along the winding track. They came up one by one, and now the evening stillness was broken as the muleteers stripped their loads from the weary beasts, and with shrill and voluble chatter spread about the impedimenta of the camp. Quickly a tent was pitched, cooking pots were set up; and the Englishmen felt that comfortable glow which envelops travellers at the near prospect of supper after a long and toilsome march. The meal was almost ready when the end of the caravan arrived, and the two rearmost sowars rejoined their comrades, with no other sound than a guttural grunt of satisfaction.
The Englishmen were eating their food, too hungry and fatigued to talk, when one of them, looking southward along the track, suddenly pointed to a figure approaching on foot, scarcely discernible in the fast-gathering darkness. On this lonely road, which they had ridden the whole day long without meeting a single human being, the appearance of the stranger had for them something of the curious interest which one passing ship has for another in the ocean solitudes. They watched the figure as it grew more distinct--a tall gaunt man, naked save for a strip of cloth about his loins, long hair flowing wild over his shoulders, no staff in his hand, neither pack nor wallet upon his back. There was something weird and fascinating about this solitary figure, as it stalked on rapidly with long even stride, the head turning neither to left nor right. The newly-pitched camp was fully in his view, but the pedestrian gave it no heed. He came below it on the track, but neither altered his pace nor looked up when one of the muleteers shouted a salutation. Even when the eldest of the Englishmen, in the tone of one accustomed to be obeyed, challenged him sharply in the native tongue, and demanded whither he was going, the man did not turn his head or slacken speed, but merely lifted his lean right arm and pointed ahead, where the path disappeared in the gloom.
"What is your business?" asked the Englishman again.
And the reply came faintly back from the man, who had already passed by, and spoke without checking his step.
"I AM A SHARPENER OF SWORDS!"
And he vanished into the night.
CHAPTER THE FIRST
THE RUINED REST-HOUSE
The travellers proceeded with their meal almost in silence.
The two younger men had felt subdued and chastened ever since they had left Rawal Pindi, some days before. Major Endicott was too good a fellow to insist on the disapproval with which he regarded their company, but they were conscious of being on sufferance, which was the more irksome because of the whole-hearted admiration they were ready to lavish upon him. His mission was a delicate one,--one which, to any but a political officer of the frontier, would have appeared not a little hazardous; and he felt that it was gratuitously complicated by the journey of two young civilians through so wild a region at this particular time. A tribe in one of the valleys west of the mountain road, some three days' march from the spot on which the travellers were now encamped, had been giving trouble of late. It had always been troublesome. Only once had it been visited by a white man, Major Endicott himself; yet, accompanied by no more than a dozen troopers, he was venturing alone among these wild hill-men, to demand the payment of a fine in expiation of a recent raid upon their neighbours, and security for their future good behaviour. The alternative was an expedition in force, and Major Endicott had preferred to take whatever personal risks a visit might involve, rather than recommend a hill campaign, with all its difficulties and its heavy cost in money and men.
But he did not relish the accidental responsibility cast upon him by the presence of these two young Englishmen, little more than lads, who had no concern in his business, and were indeed strangers to the country. He regarded it as a very unfortunate coincidence that they arrived in Rawal Pindi at the moment of his setting out, and that the road they proposed to follow in their further journey northward would be for several days the same as his own. They were travelling at their own risk; it was no part of his duty to safeguard them; but he could do no less than suggest that they should accompany him over so much of the road as was common to their party and his. Privately he wished them at Halifax.
His attitude was after all more political than personal. Great changes had recently occurred in the politics of Central Asia. The fall of the Manchu dynasty and the establishment of a Republic in China had resulted in the secession of the princes of Mongolia. They had first placed themselves under the protection of Russia, only to find that they had exchanged King Log for King Stork. Russia had sufficiently recovered from the staggering effects of the Japanese war to recommence her forward movement in Asia, which for long had seemed as gradual and as irresistible as the encroachment of the tide upon a sandy beach. The Mongols soon came to loggerheads with their adopted protector, and were beginning to experience the same process of assimilation that had in previous generations been the fate of Bokhara and Western Turkestan. A sudden conflagration in which Russia became involved in Europe, together with the rise to power of a prince of exceptional ambition and capacity, gave the Mongols an opportunity of striking for complete independence, of which they were not slow to take advantage. The advance of a Russian army of 20,000 men was checked near Urga for want of supplies from the north. With an Austro-German army threatening Moscow and St. Petersburg, the Russian government recalled the greater part of their Eastern forces, leaving the Mongolian expedition to extricate itself as best it could. It might still have proved equal to the strain but for a Mussulman rising, which, after long smouldering, now broke into flame in the conquered Khanates eastward of the Caspian. The revolt spread with the rapidity of a prairie fire from Khiva to Tashkend, paralysing any efforts that might have been made to relieve the army destined for Mongolia. A raid of many thousands of Tartars who cut the railway at Irkutsk turned the check into a retreat. The first sign of wavering brought against the Russians every man who possessed a pony and a rifle from the Great Wall of China to the Altai mountains. Under this pressure the retreat became a rout, and the rout a slaughter. Within a year Mongolia became the most powerful of the Central Asian States, and with the guns and equipment of the annihilated Russian army as a nucleus, the Mongol Napoleon set about building up a new empire extending from the shrunken frontiers of the Chinese Republic to the shores of the Caspian. Five years had sufficed to transform the political aspect of Central Asia. Russia, exhausted by a three years' struggle with her western neighbours, was powerless to stem the flood of Mongol conquest. For the moment the tide had apparently spent itself on the eastern border of Asiatic Turkey, and the mountain chain dividing Persia. There had been a lull for more than a year, during which the world wondered with no little apprehension what would happen next. Some thought that the Mongol prince who had inspired this recrudescence of the Tartar spirit might now be content to consolidate his empire. Others looked for a new movement still more stupendous, for there were not wanting many in Europe who trembled at the name of Ubacha Khan as their forefathers in bygone centuries had trembled at the names of Genghis Khan and Timur.
Little wonder, then, that Major Endicott was perturbed at the thought of two young Englishmen journeying to the fringe of the vast territory in the breasts of whose peoples were stirring aspirations after a greatness which their forefathers had enjoyed, and which was celebrated in stories handed down by long tradition, and in songs that were still sung at village festivals and country fairs.
Robert and Lawrence Appleton, aged nineteen and eighteen respectively, were the sons of the retired lieutenant-governor of an Indian presidency. The elder had just entered Sandhurst, the younger was on the point of competing for a scholarship at Oxford, when the sudden death of their father put a summary check upon their careers. He had enjoyed a good pension, but his investments having proved unfortunate, when his pension died with him they found themselves almost without means. The army for Robert, the Indian Civil Service for Lawrence, were now equally out of the question, and they saw themselves faced with no brighter prospects than clerkships or junior masterships presented, when a letter from their uncle Harry in Asia came like a ray of sunlight in the gloom.
Their uncle had been something of a rolling stone. He had left home when a mere youth, and for many years his family had wholly lost sight of him. Gossip said that he had made and lost several fortunes in remote parts of the globe before he finally "struck oil," literally as well as figuratively, in Mexico. One day he turned up unexpectedly at the headquarters of his brother, the lieutenant-governor, told him that he had "made his pile" and retired from business, and now wanted to amuse himself. Sir George did what he could for him, but Harry soon wearied of the mild excitements of Indian social life, had his fill of tiger shooting and pig-sticking, and looked about for some other means of employing his time.
Happening to learn that it was a difficult matter to get permission to cross the north-west frontier, with characteristic obstinacy he set his mind on overcoming official reluctance. It was a period of some restlessness among the frontier tribes; and the government of India, never very willing to grant permits to non-official travellers, however good their credentials, refused his application, although his brother's influence was employed in his behalf. This was enough for a man of Harry Appleton's adventurous temperament and independent spirit. Resolving to crack the nut himself, he suddenly left India, disappeared for many months, and then emerged, to the no small embarrassment of the Russians, on the border at Wakhan. He had slipped across the Persian frontier, and before the Russians were aware of his presence, was half-way to the Pamirs. Then he had disappeared for a time into Afghan territory, exploring districts in which it was believed that no other white man had ever set foot, and, much to the wonderment of his friends, coming out alive. When he was again heard of, he had entered British territory far up in the Chitral country, laden with shooting trophies in the shape of many heads of ibex and Ovis poli, the large long-horned sheep characteristic of the hill country. His intention was to return to civilisation by way of Gilgit and Kashmir, but he was held up for a time at Gilgit while telegrams passed between the local officials and the government at Simla. There had always been something a little ridiculous, perhaps, in the government's barring the Gilgit road against the use to which roads are commonly and suitably put--travel and trade. The government had only two courses open to them: to turn him back over the Pamirs under escort, or to allow him to pass. It was the latter alternative which they wisely adopted.
Pluming himself not a little on his victory over red tape, as he considered it, Harry Appleton returned to London and remained there for two or three years, interesting himself in all sorts of fantastic schemes which were alike in two respects: they cost much money, and they failed. His friends learnt by and by without surprise that he had lost the greater part of his Mexican fortune, and when they heard that he had suddenly left London again, to retrieve his fortunes by mining in the Hindu Kush, they regarded it as only one more of "poor old Harry's" crack-brained adventures, and wondered what would be the end of it all. It was consequently a cause of some wonder when, after his brother's death, he invited his nephews to join him in the mountain wilds, promising them a fair income to begin with, and possible wealth later on. Why on earth a man should have gone to the Hindu Kush to mine for copper, which could only be brought to market over hundreds of miles of difficult and dangerous country, was a question that puzzled even those who were prepared for almost any sign of insanity in "poor old Harry."
These were the circumstances which had made the two Appletons travelling companions of Major Endicott in this eventful summer.
So far the journey had been without incident. The caravan marched from dawn to dark every day, and the two Appletons found even the rugged majesty of the mountains pall upon them. The pleasantest hours were those spent in camp, when the heat and burden of the day were past. In social circles Major Endicott was regarded as something of a stick; ladies said he had "no conversation"; but in the silent evenings about the camp fire the lads hung upon his lips as he related, in slow sentences, punctuated by puffs from his pipe, some of the incidents of his career. They conceived an admiration not far short of hero-worship for this quiet soldier, who knew so much, and had done so much, though his own achievements were never the prime subject of his discourse.
To relieve the monotony of the journey, the two lads sometimes ventured to stray from the track, knowing that the speed of their sturdy hill ponies would enable them soon to catch up the rest of the slow-moving caravan. For these divagations the opportunities were few, unless they should turn themselves into mountaineers, and scale on foot the precipices on either side. But now and then there was a break in the hills to right or left, where a small mountain stream joined the larger river that flowed through the valley, above which the road pursued its winding course. The Major had warned them not to wander far on these occasions, and his warnings became more peremptory as they approached the quarter in which he feared that trouble might be brewing. But high-spirited youth is impatient of control, and the two lads were inclined to make light of the sober caution of their elder.
Two days after they had encamped on the mountain side, as already related, they were tempted to try what appeared to be a kind of track leading up into the hills to the east. Taking advantage of a momentary preoccupation of Major Endicott with the sowars, they turned their ponies into this track, and began to scramble up. The gradient was steep, and the path rose higher and higher above the road they had left, but for some distance did not greatly diverge from it. At times they could see it winding away northward beneath them, although it was concealed from them for long stretches by the contour of the ground, and was sometimes difficult to distinguish from the hillside itself.
The track appeared to lead nowhere, and after following it toilsomely for nearly an hour, they began to think it was time to return.
"I hate going back the same way," said Lawrence. "Can't we manage to cut straight down, Bob?"
"Rather risky, don't you think?" replied his brother. "This track goes up and up; there's no path down that I can see, and we don't want to risk our ponies' knees. We could do it on foot."
"Well, look here; we ought to be able to get a good view of the ground between us and the road from that rock yonder. Just hold the ponies, will you, while I go and take a squint?"
He slipped from the saddle, placed the bridle in Bob's hand, and scrambled up the side of a high rock jutting out from the path. As he expected, when he reached the top he found the country beneath clearly mapped out. He could follow the course of the road for some distance in each direction, except where it was hidden by crags and promontories. At the moment the caravan was out of sight. Between him and the road the ground was much broken, showing many narrow seams, and falling away at places into sheer precipices. It was evident that any attempt to descend here on horseback was bound to end in disaster.
As he cast his eye northward, he suddenly became aware of a group of motionless figures about a mile away, between him and the road. Impelled by some instinct of caution, perhaps acquired during his training in the school cadets, he moved stealthily behind a jutting spur of the rock, and examined the group through his field-glass. He counted fourteen hill-men on horseback. There was no movement among them, and their attitude, with their heads towards the road, suggested patient expectation. They were too far away for him to determine accurately the configuration of the ground, but it appeared to him that they were gathered in a slight hollow about a quarter of a mile east of the road. And as he moved his glass over the intervening space, he caught sight of a small building which had hitherto escaped his notice, so like was it in colour to the rocky ground surrounding it. In general shape it reminded him of the little wayside shelters which, called dak bungalows in India, were known beyond the borders as rest-houses. But this building was apparently fallen into disuse. It was roofless, and much of the stonework of the walls was broken away.
THE AMBUSH AT THE REST HOUSE
While Lawrence was still examining the ruins and the group behind, he heard the rapid clatter of a horse's hoofs on the hard rock below. At first he could not see the horseman, who, however, presently emerged into view from behind a shoulder of rock to his right, and discovered himself as a hill-man galloping northward. Having come abreast of the rest-house, he wheeled to the right, quitted the road, and made straight for the hollow in which the group of fourteen was waiting. On joining them, he appeared to give them a message; they closed about him, and after a brief consultation they all dismounted, tethered their horses to some stunted trees at the edge of the hollow, and then moved quickly towards the rest-house. All except one entered the ruins; the one went a little distance from them, and took up a position behind a rock from which presumably he could look up the road. It was as if he was waiting to signal some one's approach.
The observer now shut his glass, clambered down from the rock, and hurried back to his companion.
"Well?" said Bob. "You've been long enough."
"Don't speak so loud. Every sound carries in these hills."
In a whisper he went on to tell what he had seen.
"Looks fishy, eh?" said Bob. "We must warn the Major. Can we do it in time?"
"Come on," said Lawrence shortly.
He remounted, and the two began to make their way back along the path, slowly at first, lest they should be heard, but more rapidly as they increased their distance from the rest-house. They had not ridden far when they caught sight, through a gap in the rocks, of a portion of the caravan. They were still a long way from the spot where the hill-track left the road; the head of the caravan would have drawn much nearer to the rest-house before they could overtake it, if they kept on their present course. To give warning by a shout would but alarm the hill-men. They could save time only by hazarding a direct descent. Turning sharply off the track, they began to scramble down the hillside, trusting themselves to their sure-footed ponies. In their excitement they gave no thought to the risks they ran, and only became partially aware of them when, reaching the road, they were met by Major Endicott, who had for some minutes been watching their venturesome feat with growing wrath and indignation.
"You young fools!" he cried. "Of all the idiotic, asinine, torn-fool tricks I ever saw----"
"But, sir----" Lawrence interrupted.
"I thank my stars I shall soon be rid of you," the Major went on unheeding; "you'll take no warning, listen to no advice, and will either break your necks or be potted by hill-men before I get quit of you."
"Really, sir, it's no joke," said Bob as soon as he could get a word in. "There's a nice little crowd ahead waiting to get an easy shot at you."
"What's this?" demanded the Major.
"Oh, I just happened to spy a gang of armed hill-men sneaking into a half-ruined rest-house a mile or so ahead," said Lawrence. "We came down to warn you; it's a pity we didn't think of our necks."
"Just describe them to me, will you?" said Major Endicott, now the cool, alert soldier again.
"I couldn't see them very well, but they seemed all alike, big fellows with black beards, dressed in dark-brown, with skin hats of some sort. I counted fifteen altogether. One is on the look-out, the rest are hiding in the ruins."
"You didn't see a larger body anywhere, nor single scouts in the hills?"
"Neither."
"And how far ahead?"
"Well, about a mile as the crow flies from where I caught sight of them; we've come back a mile or more, and what with the windings of the road, I should say they're something over two miles away."
The Major had halted; the sowars sat their horses motionless a few yards behind; the mule-train was still straggling on far in the rear. The march was now resumed, Major Endicott pondering in silence the news brought him. He had no doubt that the men whom the lads had seen belonged to the tribe he was on his way to visit. His coming was almost certainly known to them, for news spreads through the hills almost as quickly as if it were flashed by telegraph. The fact that the ambuscade--such it clearly was--was so small seemed to show that the tribe as a whole was not in arms; but, as the Major well knew, many a frontier war had been precipitated by a few hot-heads, who had forced the hand of their community by some impetuous action. He foresaw trouble, but he was not the man to be diverted from his purpose by such a difficulty as this. Having set out to pacify the tribe, he meant to complete his journey; but obviously the news brought him was not to be disregarded.
He decided that he must see for himself the nature of the ambuscade, but it was necessary to act in such a way as to awaken no suspicion among the tribesmen, if, as was possible, there were watchers on the hillside. Ordering the sowars to continue their march slowly, the Major rode back with the Appletons and his native orderly until he reached the first mules of the caravan. In obedience to his command, one of the muleteers loosed the girths of the animal he led, and let the baggage it carried slip down a gentle slope at the roadside. This brought the caravan to a halt, and the wondering Astoris were instructed to go very leisurely about the work of recovering and restrapping the load. Then with Lawrence and the orderly he galloped back to the spot where the hill-track branched from the road, and turning into this, hastened on until he reached the rock whence the lad had made his observations. There taking a swift glance at the rest-house below, he came to a sudden resolution.
"If anything happens to me," he said to Lawrence, "ride back as fast as you can, and make the best of your way up the road with the caravan until you reach the nearest fort."
"But what are you going to do, sir?" asked Lawrence rather anxiously.
The Major did not reply, but spoke a few words in Urdu to the orderly. Then, leaving his horse with the two, he began to clamber down rapidly, yet with caution, in the direction of the rest-house. His course was tortuous, as much to avoid obstacles as to escape observation from the ruins, or by the man on the look-out close at hand. Every now and then he vanished from sight, and Lawrence watched nervously for his reappearance. He could not guess the Major's intentions, and it seemed to him that, foolhardy as his own exploit had been in riding down the hillside, the soldier's action in approaching alone the scene of the ambush was stark madness. When, after a long interval during which the Major had been lost to view, he suddenly emerged within a few yards of the rest-house, Lawrence caught his breath. Probably the situation was far more trying to him who watched than to the man who was apparently taking his life in his hand.
The Major was drawing near to the ruined building by a path somewhat northward of the spot from which the hill-men had entered it. Lawrence saw at once that his approach was covered from them, and from the watcher on the south side, by what remained of the north wall of the building. Tingling with curiosity and apprehension mingled, he beheld the tall soldierly figure move swiftly towards the gap which had once been the doorway, enter, and disappear.
"Good heavens! what is he about?" he thought.
He looked round at the orderly, but the man's dusky face was devoid of any expression; only his eyes gleamed as they stared fixedly at the opening by which the Major had entered.
To Lawrence the minutes seemed to lengthen into hours. He saw the look-out, a moment or two after the Major's disappearance, turn round suddenly, and hasten into the building. For some time nothing happened. There was neither sight nor sound to indicate that the building was anything more than what it seemed--an unoccupied and deserted ruin. Lawrence became more and more nervous. Major Endicott was not the man to utter a warning lightly; he had clearly anticipated a possible danger; and the tension became distressing as the lad waited and waited, expecting every moment to hear a shot, or a cry of fierce anger or savage exultation.
"What is he doing?" he asked of the orderly.
The man simply murmured "Sahib!" deprecatingly, without turning his eyes from the rest-house.
The suspense was becoming unendurable when suddenly, after what was perhaps ten minutes, but seemed as many hours, the Major's tall form reappeared in the broken doorway. The orderly's impassivity gave way for the first time; he uttered a single grunt of satisfaction. Lawrence felt unutterably relieved, yet puzzled, for by the Major's side stood one of the hill-men, and as they came out into the open they were followed by all the rest; he counted them as they filed out; the number was fifteen in all.
The Major signalled with his hand, and the two watchers, guessing at his meaning, rode on a little way until they came to the spot where he had begun his descent. Dismounting, and leading the horses carefully, they picked their way, the orderly leading, down the steep and rugged hillside. When they came to the foot, and joined the party, the Major turned to the man who had come first out of the ruins with him, and with a slight smile addressed him in a strange tongue. The man drew himself up, clicked his heels together, and saluted Lawrence in military style, murmuring:
"Salaam, sahib."
Then the whole party mounted their horses, and made their way at a walking pace up the road towards the caravan.
CHAPTER THE SECOND
BEYOND THE PALE
Of all the strange scenes which the Appletons had witnessed since their arrival in India, none was more surprising than the immediate sequel of the ambuscade. The hill-men rode in high good-temper behind their intended victims; and when they met the sowars, their leader exchanged laughing greetings with the dafadar, and the two parties became one. For the rest of that day they marched together, and at fall of night they formed a common encampment, the troopers acting as hosts towards the hill-men, and exerting themselves to entertain them.
To the Appletons it was all very mysterious. Lawrence had put a question or two to Major Endicott as they marched; but finding him strangely uncommunicative, deferred further enquiry to the hour after supper, when he was most often in the mood to talk. Even then the young fellows' curiosity was rather piqued than satisfied.
"That man Nagdu, the leader of the hill-men, was a sergeant of yours, you say, sir?" said Lawrence.
"Yes, years ago he was a dafadar in my troop."
"But he was laying an ambush for you!"
"He is paid by the government to guard the road."
"Oh!"
"Didn't know it was you, perhaps, until he saw you," suggested Bob.
"He was rather surprised to see me," said the Major, and a slow smile gathered upon his face, and passed.
"My heart was in my mouth when I saw you go alone into the rest-house," said Lawrence. "And I couldn't get a word out of your man."
"Pretty close, isn't he?" said the Major. "But look here, my lads, I called you a couple of young fools a while ago. I take that back, for without you I shouldn't have had the opportunity of enjoying the surprise of Nagdu and his crew. All the same, you were fools, you know," he added reflectively.
While this conversation was proceeding beneath the extended flap of the tent, another, of quite a different tenor, was going on at the nearest camp fire, fifty yards away. There Ganda Singh the dafadar and his old comrade Nagdu were seated, gazing into the glow, with their rifles across their knees.
"Hai! Ennicott Sahib is truly a very great man," said Nagdu. "We were there in the little house, with our guns on the wall, looking up the road, when there came a soft voice behind us. 'Twas like cold water trickling down my back, O Ganda. And when I turned and saw the huzur's two eyes like little bits of blue steel, I felt my soul shrivel up inside me: that is true, old friend. 'You are keeping good watch upon the road, Nagdu,' said he, and I shivered, and my voice was like a woman's when I said my salaam."
"Keeping watch upon the road!" repeated the dafadar with a sly look at the other. "Do you know, Nagdu, if any harm had come to the sahib-ji I would have put a bullet there, and there."
He touched the man's neck and breast.
"Hai! what harm could come to the huzur?" said Nagdu protestingly. "He is heaven-born, and knows. 'Keeping good watch upon the road,' he said, and when I stammered out my 'Salaam, sahib,' he went on: 'It is well. There are rascals about. I go to hold a talk with your people on that very matter, and 'tis good luck I met you, for you can take me to your village.' And I said the huzur's face was like the sun shining upon the hills, for by that time my soul was come to me again, and after a little talk we came out. Hai! Truly is Ennicott Sahib a very great man."
"Ay, he knows the heart of you hill-men. You have a little heart, Nagdu; the huzur's is a very great one. His word is a sword."
"And his eyes are like fires that burn. Is there anything he does not know? He did not see us go into the little house: we were quiet as mice in the corn; yet he knew we were there----"
"Keeping watch on the road," said Ganda Singh with a low chuckle. "You are indeed a mouse, Nagdu; would you measure yourself against a lion?"
Nagdu protested that he had no such thought, and then turned the conversation into an easier channel.
Next day on the march Lawrence Appleton found an opportunity of having a little private talk with Ganda Singh, who knew just enough English to make himself understood. Lawrence asked point-blank whether the hill-men had been lying in wait for the party, intending to fire upon them from their ambush. The dafadar neither denied nor affirmed, but contented himself with retailing the substance of what Nagdu had told him. Putting two and two together, the Appletons arrived at a very fair estimate of what had actually taken place. They realised that the hill-men, who would have shot down the Major without ruth if they had been unseen behind a wall, had been completely cowed when he appeared alone in their midst. Nagdu was a bold fellow, and had proved his mettle in many a border fray; but the habit of discipline and the impression made upon him by the Englishman's dominant personality had acted like a cold douche upon his purpose. It was the victory of a stronger nature over a weaker; and the lads formed a new idea of the Major's personal influence, and the unerring instinct with which he had probed the character of the natives.
That day the caravan came to the parting of the ways. Major Endicott's road struck off westward among the hills; the Appletons had still several days' northward march before them. The lads, if they had consulted their own tastes, would very willingly have gone with the Major; but they knew it was out of the question. They thanked him warmly for allowing them to accompany him so far.
"That's all right," said he. "Look me up if you ever come south. By the way, I've told off three sowars to see you to the frontier: there I dare say your uncle will meet you."
"But you can't spare them, sir," said Bob. "You've few enough all told."
"We aren't a fighting force, my boy. If it comes to a scrap we shan't stand the ghost of a chance, and the fewer there are of us the better. Keep to the track. My salaams to your uncle. Good-bye!"
The Appletons watched the Major and his party until the sowars who brought up the rear were out of sight: then they turned their faces once more to the north, feeling somewhat depressed. Their own portion of the caravan consisted of only five or six mules, whose loads were for the most part goods for their uncle. For two days they climbed higher into the rugged mountains that encompassed them on every side. In the day-time it was hot, though the heights were crowned with snow: but the nights were bitterly cold; icy blasts swept through the gorges, causing the lads to desert even their camp fires for the snugger blankets. They could not help wondering, with a certain misgiving, what the winter in these heights was like, if such wintry conditions could exist in the summer.
On the morning of the third day after leaving Major Endicott they were met at the British frontier by two stalwart and well-mounted Sikhs, who had been sent by their uncle to conduct them over the remaining stages of their journey; and the Major's three sowars returned to overtake their master. That night they had only just got into camp when they experienced for the first time the full rigours of a mountain storm. Dense clouds rolled down from the heights, enveloping them in a drenching icy mist. A cutting wind sprang up, and soon a hurricane of sleet and snow burst upon them, with lightning and thunder, and other rumblings which, as they learnt from their guides, were caused by avalanches and landslips among the mountains. All next day they were storm-bound, remaining rolled up in their blankets in the tent, and feeling more low-spirited than ever. On the following morning, however, the sun rose in a cloudless sky, and they set off again through a narrow pass dangerous at any time, but doubly dangerous now that the track was almost obliterated by snow-drifts. They felt a pang of commiseration for the scantily clad coolies who trudged along barefoot in snow and slush by their mules; but the men were cheerful, laughing and singing as they marched, and the Appletons envied their hardiness and vigour.
Leaving the Pamirs on their right, they threaded their way through the mountains towards what had once been the Russo-Afghan frontier. Slowly, steadily they marched on for three days, the track leading gradually downwards. Then one morning, soon after they had left camp, they saw in the far distance two horsemen riding slowly towards them.
"The huzur, sahib!" said one of the guides.
The lads lifted their glasses, and were then able to discern that the one of the two riders who wore a grey suit and a solah helmet was their uncle himself. They hastened on in front of their party, and in a quarter of an hour uncle and nephews met.
"How do?" cried Harry Appleton, gripping them in turn by the hand. "You've grown since I saw you last: I should hardly have known you."
"You look the same as ever," said Bob.
"Wait till you see me with my hat off. Hair doesn't grow on brains, they say. But I'm glad to see you, boys: you are looking uncommonly fit too. Have you had a pleasant journey?"
"Pretty good, bar a snowstorm. Major Endicott came with us best part of the way. He's gone to interview a troublesome tribe. He sent his salaams to you, Uncle."
"Much obliged to him. He thinks I'm mad, you know. Don't look it, do I?"
The boys laughed. Their uncle was a sturdy man, rather under middle height, hard and muscular, his brown face half covered with a thick moustache and beard turning slightly grey. His blue eyes were bright and piercing, with an expression of alertness and humour. He certainly did not look mad.
"Your caravan is rather smaller than I expected to see," he went on, as the mules came straggling up.
"Their loads are mostly your stuff," said Lawrence. "We've only brought a couple of bags apiece."
"Very sensible of you. I was afraid you might bring out a lot of rubbish, and wished I'd sent you a caution. But I needn't have worried, evidently."
"Well, there are one or two things coming after us," said Bob, with a shade of misgiving. "We sent them ahead by slow steamer, and as they hadn't arrived when we reached Bombay, we thought we'd better come on."
"Humph!" their uncle grunted. "It'll be a month before my next consignment comes up, so it's to be hoped you're not in a hurry for your stuff. I suppose there's not much of it. What is it?"
"There's my cricket-bag, and a couple of tennis rackets, and a set of golfing sticks," said Lawrence.
"You didn't happen to bring turf too, I suppose?" said their uncle with twinkling eyes. "The ground hereabout is all bunkers. Anything else useful?"
"There's my aeroplane," said Bob.
"Your what?"
"A monoplane. I was going into the flying corps, you know, if--
"Yes, yes," interrupted Mr. Appleton. "It must have been very disappointing, my boy, but you must cheer up. But an aeroplane!"
"It's very light and portable--perhaps a couple of mule loads at the most."
"I wasn't thinking of the mules," replied his uncle dryly. "An aeroplane in these hills will be just about as useful as a Dreadnought in a millpond. You didn't realise that the Hindu Kush is not exactly like the South Downs. Well, it can't be helped now. Anything else?"
"Nothing of any importance," said Bob, feeling a little dashed. He had looked forward to many hours of flying in his spare time, and it was rather dispiriting to find that the expense of shipping his aeroplane was to be wasted.
"Well, we'll get on," said Mr. Appleton. "With good luck we shall reach the mine before dark. You won't be sorry, I expect, to spend the night under a roof again."
They rode on, the track running generally to the north-north-west. About an hour after they started, their uncle pointed to a narrow cleft in the hills on their left hand.
"You see that path?" he said. "It runs into Afghan country. About six months after I started operations the mine was raided by a horde of ruffians who came that way."
"I say!" cried Bob. "What happened?"
"Luckily I had been put on my guard against an attack from that quarter by one of my Pathan miners. I had twelve hours' grace, and when the raiders arrived they found they'd got a tougher nut to crack than they expected. They only made one serious rush. We beat 'em off, and they moved some distance up the valley, sniped us for a day or two, and then cleared out. We've had no trouble of that sort since, though they've played highwaymen once or twice with my caravans, and in one case got a certain amount of loot. Among other things they collared a boiler that I was bringing up at huge expense from India. I don't suppose they knew what it was, but for the sake of the metal they tried to carry it through the difficult pass into their own valley. But it proved too cumbersome, as you might expect, and they had to leave it. I found it some time afterwards when shooting in the pass, at the bottom of a deep nullah, where it had rolled from the track above. It took me nearly a fortnight to recover it and bring it home, but I was glad to get it at the price."
"Things aren't all beer and skittles, then," said Bob.
"Oh, there's a little excitement sometimes, but we are well placed, as you will see, and I fancy nothing short of a regular train of artillery could do us much damage."
What the boys heard from Mr. Appleton during that march whetted their curiosity to get their first view of his mine, but they were disappointed, for twilight fell while they were still some distance from it. In the gathering dusk they saw a number of distant lights, which their uncle explained were the camp fires of the miners. The red glow, growing larger as they proceeded, lent a romantic touch to the night. The fires were somewhat below them; and, viewed from the high ground from which they were approaching, the settlement appeared to be situated in a huge cleft between two steep mountain barriers. They could just see, swirling along the bottom, a torrential stream, which their uncle told them was unusually high just now, being swollen in summer by the melted snow from the mountains. It was, he said, a tributary to one of the headwaters of the Oxus.
They had just arrived at the outskirts of the settlement when the silence of the evening was suddenly broken by a great hubbub, and they saw a number of dark figures hurrying towards one of the camp fires. In a moment the open space was filled with a shouting swaying crowd; but before the boys had time to realise what was happening, or even to ask a question, their uncle urged his tired horse towards the scene, and dashing into the midst of the crowd, scattered the men to right and left. When the boys galloped up behind him, they found him sternly questioning one or two of the men in their own tongue. They returned sullen answers, whereupon he addressed them in tones of rebuke, concluding with a sharp word of command at which they turned away towards a number of huts ranged in rows beyond the camp fires.
"What is it all about, Uncle?" asked Lawrence.
"We'll see in the morning. It's too late now. Slip off your horses; I'll call a fellow to take charge of them."
A man came up in answer to his call, and led the horses towards the stables beyond the huts. Then Mr. Appleton gave a loud hail, and led his nephews to the left.
"Look after your feet," he said, taking a small electric lamp from his pocket.
They now saw that they were at the edge of the ravine. Below them they heard the gurgle and rush of the river. A few steps cut in the side of the chasm led down to a narrow platform, and upon this the three stood waiting. Mr. Appleton's call was answered from the opposite side, and immediately afterwards the boys heard a creaking sound, as though a machine of some sort were being wound up. Then a dark mass appeared to detach itself from the wall of rock across the gap, and descend towards them.
"My drawbridge," said their uncle.
It sank slowly and with much groaning and squeaking until the nearer end rested on the edge of the platform where they stood. They stepped upon it, followed by the Sikhs who had acted as their guides, and in a few strides came to the other side.
"Welcome to the Appleton mine," said Mr. Appleton. "And now for supper. Our menu isn't elaborate, but if you're as sharp set as I am you won't be dainty. Come along!"
CHAPTER THE THIRD
MR. APPLETON'S MINE
Mr. Appleton led the way across a sort of yard, littered with mining debris, towards a building in the upper part of which lights were burning. To the left sheds and a chimney stack loomed up in the darkness, scarcely distinguishable against the background of rock. They passed through a gate, and found themselves in a less cumbered enclosure, at the farther corner of which stood the illuminated building. This proved to be a compact square edifice, the lower storey of stone, the upper of wood. The door stood open, and in the entrance appeared a grave turbaned servant, who salaamed as the boys went in.
"Chunda Beg, my khansaman," said Mr. Appleton. "Come upstairs and see your room. We haven't over much space, but we've done our best to make you comfortable."
The boys followed their uncle to the upper floor, which was one large apartment divided into three by matchboard partitions carried up to within a foot or two of the ceiling. In the first room, the dining-room, they saw a table laid for supper. Passing through this they entered Mr. Appleton's bedroom, a small chamber furnished only with a narrow camp bed, a chair, a towel-horse, a tin basin on a stand, a chest of drawers, and a zinc bath; a Persian rug lay on the floor at one side of the bed. Beyond the further partition, which had evidently been newly erected, was the boys' bedroom, about the same size as their uncle's, similarly furnished, but with two camp beds separated by the width of a Persian rug.
"No luxuries, you see," said Mr. Appleton, "but I think you'll find it cosy. I believe there's a looking-glass somewhere on the premises if you want to shave. That's a thing I haven't done for many years; Chunda Beg gives me a trimming every now and then when I'm getting too shaggy. As a follower of the Prophet, he wouldn't cut his own beard for a pension. He'll send you up some hot water and soap, and when you've had a wash, come in to supper."
The menu was not so scanty as Mr. Appleton had led the boys to believe. There was a roast joint that tasted three parts mutton and one part venison--the flesh of an ibex shot by Mr. Appleton himself. The vegetables were mushrooms, onions and lotus beans; the sweets a rice pudding and stewed peaches; and the beverage a kind of elderberry wine diluted with hot water.
"You've got a good cook, Uncle," said Lawrence, when the khansaman had brought coffee. "We haven't had so good a meal since we left Rawal Pindi."
"Well, Shan Tai does his best. He's a Chinaman, of course. We grow our own vegetables in a patch of ground down the valley. In fact, we do most things ourselves. The gas is acetylene, made on the spot. Most of the furniture in your room is home-made, as I dare say you noticed. We're what you may call self-contained."
"What rooms have you got below?" asked Bob.
"We use the ground floor only for stores. In the dark you didn't see, I suppose, that the walls are loopholed. The stone's very thick, and in that little trouble I told you about we found them a capital fortification. The kitchen is outside; the servants have their own out-houses. The cook is Chinese, as I said; the khansaman is a Pathan; there are one or two other fellows whose nationality is an unknown quantity. Chunda Beg is a treasure, as grave as a judge, and as resourceful as a Jack-tar. You'll take most interest, I expect, in my storekeeper, Ditta Lal, a Bengali--what's commonly called a Babu. I wager you haven't spoken to him for more than two minutes before he tells you he is a B.A. of Calcutta University, and he'll tell you the same thing ten times a day until he chokes."
"Why should he choke?" asked Lawrence.
"Because he's getting so disgustingly fat. I really mustn't raise his screw--he calls it emoluments--any more. When he first came to me he was thin and weedy like many of his kind; but he made himself extremely useful, and I've increased his pay rather often. You'd be surprised at the result if you could compare him as he is with what he was. Upon my word, with every rise he swells visibly. I shouldn't like to say what his waist measurement is now. I told him the other day that I really couldn't raise him any more, for fear it proved fatal, and he smiled in my face and said, 'Ah, sahib, God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb,' which you won't beat for a piece of delightful inconsequence."
Talking thus, Mr. Appleton interested and amused the boys for an hour or two until it was time to turn in. The night was cold; but snuggled under thick blankets they slept like tops, and did not waken until the khansaman entered with water for their morning tub.
At breakfast Mr. Appleton announced that his first business for the day was the holding of a durbar to enquire into the scuffle of the night before.
"My discipline is as easy as possible," he said; "there are few rules, but I see that they are obeyed. The men represent some of the most unruly tribes of the frontier, but they know I mean what I say, and on the whole I've had very little trouble with them. Of course they get good pay; that's the first condition of good work and contentment."
"The second is good holidays," said Lawrence with a smile.
"Ah, you've just left school!" said his uncle. "But the men haven't anything to complain of on that score. They get holidays all the winter. We stop work for four or five months. What with snowstorms and the river frozen hard we could scarcely exist here in the winter months, so the men go off to their homes and no doubt play the heavy swell among their people, and I betake myself to Bokhara, or pay a round of visits among my Chinese friends, or go on a hunting trip, returning in the spring. But there's the bugle; come and see me in my part of unpaid magistrate. Then I'll take you over the place."
On leaving the house, the boys saw a number of men filing through the gate between two ranks of tall bearded Sikhs armed with rifles. Those who came first were of the Mongolian type, with broad, flat, yellowish faces, wide noses and narrow eyes. What little clothing they wore was ragged and stained a deep indigo blue. These men, numbering about eighty, formed a group on the left-hand side. After them entered more than a score of swarthy black-haired fellows of more symmetrical shape and more powerful physique, their features more sharply cut, some of them having almost a Jewish cast of countenance. Their garments were marked with streaks and stains of yellowish-green. Mr. Appleton explained that they were for the most part Pathans from the Afghan border; but they included also several Punjabis, a couple of Baluchis, three or four Chitralis, and a sprinkling of men of Hunza and Nagar. They formed up on the right-hand side.
At the door of an outhouse on the same side stood a very fat man whom the boys easily recognized as the Bengali storekeeper. His podgy olive cheeks were almost concealed by a bushy growth of black hair, and the loose white garment he wore, encircled with a sash of brilliant red, emphasised the vast unwieldiness of his bulk.
When all were assembled, the gate was shut, and Mr. Appleton, standing before his door, called for Gur Buksh. One of the armed Sikhs stepped forward, a tall, finely-proportioned, grey-bearded man, who, as the boys afterwards learnt, had been a havildar in a native Border regiment of the British army, and had seen considerable service on the frontier. He stood at attention, saluted, and gravely awaited the sahib's questions. The young Appletons looked on with curiosity, wishing that they could understand the conversation that ensued. Lawrence made up his mind to devote his spare time to a study of the native languages.
After Gur Buksh had made his report, Mr. Appleton called up two other men, one from each of the groups. The first was a young Kalmuck, whose yellow face would have been absolutely expressionless but for a keen look in his restless eyes. The other was a big hook-nosed Pathan, with strong, determined features and fierce low brows from beneath which his coal-black eyes flashed with truculence. The Kalmuck, answering to the name of Nurla Bai, gave brief and almost sullen answers to his master's questions; Muhammad Din, the Pathan, on the contrary, spoke at length, fiercely and volubly, with much play of features and hands. Having heard them both, Mr. Appleton made a measured speech in fine magisterial manner, and then dismissed them. At the close of his speech the boys noticed that the two culprits threw swift glances at them, the Kalmuck's eyes narrowing, and giving no clue to his thoughts, while the Pathan's indicated keen interest and searching enquiry. The whole company marched out of the gate, and the silence which they had hitherto preserved gave way to excited talk as they went off to their work.
"So much for that," said Mr. Appleton. "It appears that, taking advantage of my absence, the Kalmuck fellow, Nurla Bai, got into the Pathan section of the mine works, against my express orders. Muhammad Din stood up for law, rather zealously, and it would have come to a free fight if Gur Buksh hadn't stepped in. At night, when they knock off work, both parties cross the drawbridge to their huts on the other side, and the quarrel was just breaking out again when we had the good luck to come up. Nurla was clearly in the wrong, and I fined him a week's pay."
"He took it well," said Bob. "The fellow's face was like a mask."
"He was not so much unmoved as you think," said Mr. Appleton. "I know the fellow pretty well, and I could tell by the look of him that he was perfectly furious. I find my system answers very well. I punish all breaches of the regulations with fines, which are pooled and distributed every month among the men who haven't offended. Most of the men are quite keen to get these additions to their pay; in fact, I've known some of the rascals try to egg on a simple-minded mate to commit some slight misdemeanour, so that he'll lose his pay for their benefit. They're queer fish.... Good-morning, Ditta Lal."
The Bengali, who had been hovering about, gradually drawing nearer to his master, and casting sheep's eyes at the two young strangers, now waddled up, his face one broad smile.
"Good-morning, sir: good-morning, young gents," he said in a breathless wheeze. "'Full many a glorious morning have I seen, flatter the mountain tops with sovran eye,'--pat quotation from sweet Swan of Avon, whose sonnets I got up, with notes, for final exam, for B.A. degree, Calcutta University. Lovely morning, sir."
Mr. Appleton's eyes twinkled as he introduced his nephews, who were looking at the Babu as at some strange specimen.
"You'll find several mule loads of stuff we ordered on the other side, Ditta Lal," said Mr. Appleton.
"They shall be attended to instanter, sir. And I shall esteem it signal honour on fitting occasion to act as guide, philosopher and friend to young gents, show them my stores; in fact, do them proud, and all that."
He bowed, puffed, and waddled away. The boys laughed when his back was turned.
"What a treasure!" said Lawrence. "Our old school porter at Rugton was pretty big about, but this fellow would make two of him. What a rag the chaps would have if we could transport him!"
"I can't spare him. He's an abiding joy. But come, let me take you round."
The next hour was spent in going over the not very extensive settlement. The boys found that the portion on the west side of the gorge was divided into three. The first contained Mr. Appleton's dwelling-house, the engine-house and stores, and a set of small stamps, together with sheds for assaying, and a number of huts occupied by the personal native servants and the Sikh garrison. The dwelling-house was built in an angle of the cliff, which rose sheer behind it. Between house and cliff, however, was a space of about three yards filled with heavy beams, which were all loopholed. The whole of the enclosure in which the house stood was surrounded by a bank of earth about six feet high, formed of "tailings" from the mine. This bank was broken only in two places, one for the gate leading into the second enclosure or compound, the second for the drawbridge connecting with the east side of the gorge.
The second compound was somewhat smaller than the first. Here were to be seen barrows, trucks, and other implements; a line of rails led into a cave-like opening in the hillside, which, Mr. Appleton explained, was the entrance to a vein or lode sloping upwards into the heart of the mountain.
"It was lucky I hadn't to sink shafts," he said, "considering the difficulty of bringing mining appliances to this remote region."
"What led you to pitch here?" asked Bob.
"Well, you may call it accident, or you may put it down to my being possessed of a roving eye. I was hunting hereabout some years ago, and caught sight of what seemed to be an outcrop of copper ore. I poked about rather carefully, and collected a number of samples of this and other ores, which I had tested by a capital fellow in Peshawar. His assays confirmed my suspicions, and I thought I couldn't do better than try my luck."
"Who does the place belong to?" asked Lawrence. "Do you pay rent?"
Mr. Appleton smiled.
"I'm afraid I'm a squatter," he said, "not unlike the ancestors of some people I could name nearer home. The natives, I believe, used to pay tribute to the Amir, and also to the Chinese emperor--a little gold dust (where they got it I don't know)--a dog or two, and a basket of apricots: some trivial thing like that; and as the people are nomads, their suzerains, I dare say, thought they were lucky to get anything. Then the Russians came along, and among other unconsidered trifles snapped up this little no-man's land. They had a small military post a couple of marches across the hills to the north. This was raided by the Afghans when they got news of the Russian smash-up in Mongolia. The Mongols turned out the Afghans; then the post was destroyed by another Afghan raid; and since then nobody has troubled about it. It would puzzle even an international jurist in a Scotch university to decide who is the rightful sovereign of this tract of hill country; and meanwhile I'm on the spot, and I'll stay here and get on with my work until I'm turned out.
"This gallery here is worked by the Kalmucks: you saw some of them at the stamping presses as you came up. The slope makes it easy to dig the ore out, and also drains what little water there is: there's only a trickle, as you see. Come into the next compound."
He unlocked the door in the stout fence, and led the boys into a third enclosure, like the second, and having another line of rails leading into a gallery.
"This is the Pathan section," said Mr. Appleton. "There are not quite half as many Pathans as Kalmucks."
"I suppose you keep them apart for fear of ructions," said Bob.
"Partly," said Mr. Appleton, smiling a little as he added: "But there's another reason; I'll tell you that later. We are not treating the ore from this gallery at present. Look here."
He led them to the further fence, in which there was a gap, and bade them look down. They saw a heap of greenish rock lying in a deep saucer-shaped hollow between the yard and the river below. A line of rails ran from the mouth of the gallery to the gap, and while the three men stood there a couple of Pathans emerged from the hill, pushing a laden truck before them. On arriving at the fence they tilted up the truck, and the contents fell crashing upon the heap beneath.
"Now we'll go over the bridge and have a look at the miners' quarters on the other side," said Mr. Appleton. "I have to inspect them frequently: I'm magistrate, sanitary inspector, a regular Jack of all trades."
"Why did those two miners look at us so curiously when you were jawing them?" said Lawrence.
"I had just told them who you were, my nephews and the new superintendents. You've got to earn your living, you know. Bob will be responsible for the Pathans, and you for the Kalmucks. Of course you've a lot to learn."
"They looked as if they didn't much like their new bosses," said Bob.
"I daresay; but you'll be a comfort to me. I'm not troubled with nerves, but at times, I confess, I have felt what the old ladies call lonesome for want of a white man to talk to. The Babu is all very well, but now and again he worries me. When I'm tired and bothered he'll expound a knotty passage of Browning or some other incomprehensible poet; and when I should enjoy a little stimulating conversation, he 'havers,' as the Scotch say, in a mixture of high falutin' and outrageous slang. Now that you are here I've no doubt he'll be nothing but the joy I find him in my cheerful moods. I'm very glad of your company, boys."
CHAPTER THE FOURTH
THE AEROPLANE ARRIVES
During the next three weeks the younger Appletons were fully occupied in studying the working of the mine. Dressed in calico overalls they penetrated into the torch-lit galleries and watched the miners at their work. They saw the process of crushing the ore, but Mr. Appleton's operations went little further, for owing to his distance from civilisation and the limited space at his disposal, he left the final stages of purification to be performed in India. The boys were rather curious to know why the colours of the stains upon the clothing of the two bands of miners differed, but they forbore to question their uncle, guessing that he would tell them all in good time, and would meanwhile be pleased by their showing patience. In this they were right. Mr. Appleton had no wish to keep any secrets from them; he was only waiting until he had learnt something of the characters of the two young fellows, whom he had not seen for several years, and at no time had had many opportunities of studying.
They both soon showed their bents. In the evenings, when work was done, there was little to occupy them. Mr. Appleton's books were few; they were mainly books on mining and grammars and dictionaries of the local dialects. Robert seized on the former; Lawrence devoted himself to the latter; and their uncle was very well pleased, for each of these studies would prove useful. Their recreations were for the present confined to an occasional game of chess or cards, a still rarer shooting expedition in the hills, and the reading of the rather dilapidated magazines which had come at odd times from India and home. Lawrence missed his cricket, and Bob his golf; but in spite of what Mr. Appleton had said about the impossibility of using the aeroplane when it should arrive, they both looked forward privately to trying their wings by and by.
Lawrence soon became popular with the natives. He had a turn for languages, and managed to pick up quickly a little Turki and scraps of the other tongues spoken by the very mixed crowd that constituted the mining staff. Robert had not the same quickness in learning languages, but he made himself useful on the engineering side. He had been accustomed to spend part of his holidays in the engine shops of the father of one of his schoolfellows, and found his experience valuable. Once, for instance, when there was a breakdown of the somewhat crazy engine that worked the stamping presses, he was able to make the necessary repairs more quickly than Mr. Appleton himself, or the regular engine man, could have done. Mr. Appleton was a very good prospector and an all-round man in general, but he had no particular gift in the direction of mechanics, while the engine man had picked up from his master all he knew. He was a Gurkha, a short, compact little fellow, of hard muscles and a very quick intelligence. His race is more accustomed to military service than to machinery, and Fazl, as this man was named, had never seen a steam engine before he came to the mine. Mr. Appleton had found him wandering half starved in Turkestan two seasons before, and out of sheer kindness of heart put him on as cleaner. Some time after, the Mohammedan Bengali who had hitherto driven the engine asked leave to go home and bury his grandmother, and Fazl was promoted to his place. The Bengali, of course, never returned, and Fazl was still engine man.
One evening after supper Mr. Appleton said--
"Don't get your books yet, boys; I want to show you something."
He placed a Bunsen burner on the table, and brought a blowpipe and a piece of charcoal from a cupboard. Then he took from his pocket a small lump of ore, which he laid on the charcoal with a little powdered carbonate of soda, and proceeded to treat in the Bunsen flame. The boys watched his experiment curiously. After a time they saw a bright bead form itself on the surface of the ore. Mr. Appleton laid down the blowpipe.
"What do you make of that?" he said.
"Is it tin?" asked Robert.
"Well, I have known school-boys call it 'tin' in the shape of sixpenny bits. It is silver. Now I'll let you into my secret. The ore obtained from the farther gallery, and dumped down into that very convenient cavity, contains almost pure silver; there's method in my madness, you see. Nobody knows it but yourselves; though I can't say what some of the men may suspect. I don't attempt to work it for the simple reason that I don't want the news to get about. If it became generally known that I have struck silver, somebody might put in a claim to this neglected region, and I should either have to decamp or be in constant fear of attack. As it is, I think I am pretty secure; and when I have got a sufficient quantity of the ore I shall close down, dismiss the men, and carry the stuff to India."
"But isn't there silver also in the other gallery?" asked Bob.
"No. The two metals, so far as I can discover, lie in parallel vertical streaks, with a band of quartz between them, and the men who are working at the copper know nothing of the silver a few feet away. You see now the reason why I keep the Kalmucks and the Pathans apart. The Kalmucks work the copper; they belong more or less to the neighbourhood; but the Pathans come from far distant parts, and if they should discover that their ore is silver, they are not at all so likely as the Kalmucks to bring unwelcome visitors upon me. I confess I was a little uneasy when I heard the explanation of that scrimmage we happened upon as we rode down. I wondered whether Nurla Bai's presence in the Pathan section was due to some suspicion of the truth. But he has given no more trouble, and I hope that I was wrong."
"He's a sulky beggar," said Lawrence. "I can't get a word out of him, and I don't like those ugly eyes of his."
"I'm watching him," said Mr. Appleton. "He works well, and has a great influence with the other Kalmucks. He's certainly far and away more intelligent, and he has brought in a good many labourers. In fact, I had to put a stop to his recruiting. I wanted to keep the Kalmucks pretty equal in number to the Pathans, but, as you see, they already outnumber them by more than two to one. One great nuisance is their possession of firearms. I tried to induce them to hand them over when I engaged them, but in these regions the hillmen are as tenacious of their guns as our sailors are of their knives. Without my police Pathans and Kalmucks would be at each other's throats."
A few days after this conversation, the caravan which the boys had for some time been expecting arrived. It was larger than that which had accompanied them, and Mr. Appleton threw up his hands with a dismay that was not wholly feigned when he saw how many additional mules had been required for the transport of the aeroplane.
"You said two or three," he remarked to Bob as the laden beasts defiled along the path; "but I'm sure there are seven or eight more than my stuff needed."
"I expect it's the petrol," said Bob humbly.
"You didn't mention petrol."
"No; but of course we couldn't work the engine without it, and I left word to send up a good quantity. I didn't suppose you had any on the spot."
"And wasn't there a single sensible creature to tell you that you can't go skylarking with an aeroplane in the Hindu Kush? Whoever sold you the petrol must have laughed in his sleeve."
"He seemed uncommon glad to sell it, anyway," said Bob, a trifle nettled.
"Of course he was. There are no end of sharks always on the watch for a griffin. He sold the petrol, and he sold you. And the expense of it! D'you know how much it costs to bring a mule from India here?"
"You can dock it out of my screw," growled Bob.
"And money absolutely flung away. You have seen for yourself that there's no level space hereabout for running off. And even supposing you could use the thing, it would be madness to do so. You'd be bound to come to grief; all flying men do sooner or later, and at the best you might find yourself landed thirty or forty miles away, with nothing but peaks and precipices between you and home. There are no repairing shops to fall back upon; no garages 'open day and night,' or anything of that sort. In short----"
"Don't rub it in, Uncle," said Lawrence. "The thing's here now, and we've got to make the best of it. Come on, Bob; let's go and look after the unloading; those fellows are sure to smash something."
The mules were led across the drawbridge to the west side of the gorge, and the separate parts of the machine were stacked near the dwelling house until a new shed could be constructed.