Part 34 (2/2)

A disconcerting thought struck Finnerty. ”The minute we show up we'll be surrounded by spies. They're in my bungalow all the time; we'll not get a chance.”

There was a warning cough from behind, and then Lord Victor, urging his horse closer, said: ”Don't bar me, you fellows, from anything that's on; I don't want to be 'sent to Coventry.' If it's a question of fight, for G.o.d's sake give me a gun. I'd rather have you d.a.m.n me like a bargee than be left out. I can't bally well plan anything--I'm not up to it--but I'm an Englishman.”

”My dear boy,” Finnerty answered, ”we know that. If we'd taken you in at the start we'd have given you a better chance, but we all make blunders.”

It was about four o'clock when Finnerty, halting, said: ”I know where I'm at now; the other trail lies due west, and if we keep our faces full on Old Sol we'll make it.”

Through the jungle without a path their progress was slow. At times they were turned into big detours by interlaced walls of running elephant creeper and vast hedges of the _sahbar kirao_, the ”have-patience plant”

that, with its hooked spikes, was like a fence of barbed wire. Their minds, tortured by the impending calamity, were oblivious to the clamour of the jungle. A bear that had climbed a dead tree inhabited by bees scuttled down to the ground, an animated beehive, his face glued with honey, his paws dripping with it, and his thick fur palpitating with the beat of a million tiny wings. He humped away in a shuffling lope, unmolested; not even a laugh followed his grotesque form.

It was five o'clock when they struck the Safed Jan Trail and swung southward, Finnerty's eyes taking up the reading of its page. ”Ah!” he cried suddenly, and, pulling his horse to a standstill, he dropped to the ground.

In the new partners.h.i.+p he turned rather to Lord Victor, saying: ”We've been told that machine guns and ammunition have been run into Darpore over the same Chittagong route we think Mad Foley used, only they've come along this trail from the pa.s.s.” He dipped his thumb into one of the numerous deep heel prints, adding: ”See! The carriers were heavy loaded and there were many.”

From the varied weathering of the tracks it was apparent that carriers had pa.s.sed at different intervals of time.

The major remounted, and they had ridden half an hour when his horse p.r.i.c.ked his ears and the muscles of his neck quivered in an action of discovery. Finnerty slipped his 10-bore from its holding straps, pa.s.sed his bridle rein to Swinton, and, dropping to the ground, went stealthily around a bend in the path. He saw nothing--no entrapping armed natives--but a voice came to him from its unseen owner, saying softly: ”Salaam! I am the herdsman, and am here for speech with the sahib.”

”All right. Come forth!” the major answered.

From a thick screen of brush the Banjara stepped out, saying: ”My brother is beyond on the trail, and from his perch in a tree he has given the call of a bird that I might know it was the keddah sahib that pa.s.sed; he will soon be here.”

Finnerty called, and Swinton and Lord Victor came forward. Presently the fellow arrived, and, at a word from the herdsman, said: ”Nawab Darna Singh sends salaams to the keddah sahib.”

Finnerty stared in amazement. ”Why should he have sent you, knowing that a Banjara does not kiss the hand that has beaten him like a dog?”

”Because of that, huzoor. Darna Singh is also treated like a dog, for he is put in a cage, and those who are beaten join together against the whip.”

”Why is Darna Singh caged?”

The man cast an uneasy glance toward Lord Victor and hesitated. Sensing the reason for this, Finnerty said: ”Speak the truth and fear not.”

”We of this country know that the sahibs are quick to anger if the mem-sahibs are spoken of, but it is because of the young mem-sahib that Darna Singh suffers. There is to be war, and Darna Singh came to know--though it may be a lie--that the mem-sahib would be made maharani--perhaps not a _gudi maharani_--and his sister would be taken with a fever and die. And it may be that in a pa.s.sion over this he sought to end the matter with a thrust of a knife, but I have heard that Rajah Ananda received but a slight cut.”

”I'm d.a.m.ned sorry for that, for the nawab has a strong arm.”

”Darna Singh was indeed unlucky, sahib, for Rajah Ananda had been taught in Belati to strike with the hand and that saved him.”

”Where is the Nawab caged?”

”Below; where the guns are.”

Finnerty caught a quick flash of the eye from Swinton.

”And if that is the truth, that you come from him must be a lie, for a jailer does not give entrance to friends of the prisoner.”

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