Part 36 (1/2)
When he had impressed this matter upon Gilfain, Finnerty held out his hand to the Banjara: ”Brother, you are a man.”
”We Banjaras are taught by our mothers that we are to become men,” the herdsman answered with simple dignity.
Like the sealing of a solemn compact between the members of a brotherhood was this exchange of handclasps, Swinton also taking the Banjara's hand in a grasp of admiration.
As Finnerty and Swinton melted down the gloomed path with the Banjara's brother, the herdsman stood watching their going, repeating a tribal saying: ”In the kingdom of men there are no boundaries.”
When the two sahibs came out to where the Safed Jan Trail wound along the bed of a nala approaching the palace plateau, their guide said: ”Just beyond is the new cave. I will go forward to see that no one keeps the door, for they will not think it strange that I should be about. If the sahibs hear the small cry of a tree cricket they may come forward.”
In five minutes the hissing pipe of a cicada came back to their ears, and, slipping from the jungle to the nala trail, they noiselessly crept to the dark portal that yawned to the right of their way. From the contour of the hill, outlined against an afterglow sky, Finnerty knew that they were on the reverse side of the jutting point that held Jadoo Cave. As they entered a gloom so intense they saw nothing, a whisper rea.s.sured them, and the native's hand grasped Finnerty's fingers. The major, understanding, reached back the stock of his 10-bore to Swinton, and they went forward into the blackness. Soon the watchman stopped and whispered: ”Put out your hand, sahib, and feel the spot that is here.”
By a grasp on his wrist Finnerty's hand was placed upon a stone wall, and his fingers, moving up and down and across, detected a thin crack so truly perpendicular that it suggested mechanics.
The native whispered: ”One of the keys on the ring will unlock this that is a door.” Then he fumbled the wall with his fingers, and presently found a square block of stone, saying: ”The keyhole is within.”
A long-stemmed key on the ring fitted the keyhole, but before Finnerty could shoot the bolt the native whispered: ”Not yet, sahib.” He produced two candles and a box of matches. ”Remember, sahib, that no man owns the light of a fire; here is an eye that makes no betraying light.” And he placed in Finnerty's fingers a slim male-bamboo rod.
At a twist from Finnerty's hand a heavy bolt in the lock glided back with noiseless ease; a pull caused the stone-faced door to swing forward in the same frictionless quiet, and beyond was a gloom as deep as that of the cave.
”I will watch, sahib,” the guide whispered, ”and if it is known that evil has fallen upon you I will warn the Lord Sahib; if it please the G.o.ds that you come forth I will also carry to him that good tale.”
Closing the door behind them, the two adventurers stood in a void so opaque, so devoid of sound, that it produced a feeling of floating in blackened s.p.a.ce with the earth obliterated. Finnerty's big hand groped till it found the captain's shoulder, where it rested for a second in heavy a.s.surance; then he gave Swinton a candle, saying: ”If we get separated----”
They moved forward, Finnerty feeling the path with the bamboo rod. He hugged the wall on his right, knowing that the pa.s.sage, skirting the hill edge, must lead to beneath the palace. Suddenly, shoulder high, the gloom was broken by a square opening, and through it Finnerty saw the handle of the Dipper in its sweep toward the horizon. Beneath this port was a ledge to support a machine gun, as the major surmised. Every twenty feet were openings of different shapes; some narrow, vertical slits for rifle fire. Once Finnerty's rod touched a pillar in the centre of the pa.s.sage. His fingers read grotesque figures carved upon its sides, and he knew they were in one of the old Hindu rajah's semisacred excavated chambers. Twice, on his right, his hand slipped into s.p.a.ce as he felt his way--open doorways from which dipped stone steps to lower exits.
Suddenly his bamboo rod came dead against an obstructing wall in front.
Set in this was a flat steel door, with a keyhole which admitted one of the other keys. Finnerty closed the door, not locking it, but when he had taken two steps he caught a clicking sound behind. Turning in apprehension, he pushed upon the door, but it refused to give. He inserted the key; the bolt was where he had left it, shot back, but the door was immovable. A s.h.i.+ver twitched his scalp. Had he himself touched something that automatically locked the door, or had its swing carried a warning to some one who had electrically shot the bolts? The door itself was ma.s.sive enough to hold any sort of mechanism; it was like the bulkhead of a battles.h.i.+p.
Twice Finnerty found a closed door in the wall on his right; no doubt within the chamber beyond were cannon that commanded some road of approach to the hill. Next his hand swept across a four-foot s.p.a.ce, and against the farther wall of this stood open a heavy teakwood door; from the pa.s.sage beyond drifted a nauseating, carrion smell, such as hovers over a tiger's cage.
Twenty yards beyond, Swinton touched the major's shoulders and whispered: ”I heard something behind; I feel that we are being followed.”
The major s.h.i.+vered; not through personal fear, but if they were trapped, if they failed, what bloodshed and foolish revolt would follow. To turn back and search was useless; they must keep on. They must be close to the many chambers beneath the palace where the ammunition and guns, no doubt, were kept. It was ominous, this utter absence of everything but darkness.
With a gasping breath, Finnerty stood still. A slipping noise in front had caught his ear, but now, in their own silence, they both heard the slip of velvet feet on the stone floor behind, and in their nostrils struck full the carrion smell.
”Tiger!” Finnerty whispered, and the pulled-back hammers of his gun clicked alarmingly loud on the death air.
In ten paces Finnerty's gun barrel clicked against iron; it was a door.
They were trapped. Behind, the thing crept closer.
”Light a candle and hold it above my head; I must settle that brute,” he said, in his mind also a thought that perhaps the light would frighten away the animal that trailed them.
As Swinton struck a match it broke, its flickering fall glinting green two devilish eyes in the head of a tiger that was setting himself for a spring, ten feet away. The roar of Finnerty's 10-bore, the two shocks almost in one, nearly burst their eardrums, and Swinton stood keyed to rigidity by the call for steady nerve. There was no rus.h.i.+ng charge. A smothered cough from the tiger told that blood choked his lungs.
A man's voice came from the darkness almost at their elbow, saying: ”Sahib, I am Darna Singh--a friend!”
”Come here!” Finnerty answered. ”But no treachery!” For he feared it might be an imposter.