The Old Man of the Mountain Part 28

"Away with you! Don't stand blethering there! Fetch them, and run like the wind."

The priests were swarming across the garden, jostling one another in the narrow gate, leaping towards the paG.o.da. Infuriated at the loss of their colleague, just promoted to the higher rank, and at the trick played upon them, they knew that the "foreign devils" no longer had the Eye at their command, and already gloated over their slaughtered bodies.

Venting shrill cries of frenzy, they made straight for the entrance, reckless and without order.

But their vision of an orgy of carnage was rudely dispelled. Within the doorway Beresford, Jackson, and Sher Jang stood calmly awaiting them, rifle at shoulder. At twenty paces the rifles flashed; three men fell upon their faces; their comrades reeled back. Another volley crashed into the crowd surging on, and as the survivors staggered, the bark of the revolvers placed by Hamid in the hands of Forrester and Mackenzie mingled with the groans and shrieks of the frantic mob. They turned about, flung away their futile weapons, and fled, a wild rout, through the gate and over the garden towards their dwellings.

"After them!" cried Mackenzie. "No more firing!"

The little garrison stepped out into the open. And there Sher Jang put his fingers to his lips and blew a shrill blast. Instantly the long wall to the left was thick with men, who scrambled over, dropped to the ground, and pursued the panting priests, brandis.h.i.+ng the implements of their servitude, and filling the air with fierce triumphant yells. The s.h.i.+kari, at the first sounds of commotion, had collected his fellow slaves and led them to the wall to await his signal.

They swarmed after their oppressors. The pa.s.sion for freedom throbbed in their veins. The pent-up fury of years of abject captivity burst the fetters that had chained their souls. No hireling valour could withstand them. The priests, their rage become terror, fled like stags before the hounds, across the bridges, through the stream, towards the further gate and their barracks beyond. The huddled ma.s.s choked the gate; a few turned at bay; some fell on their knees and prayed for mercy; they had shown no mercy, none they received. The slaves smote and spared not. They forced their way through the gate, hunted the priests to their doors, dashed in after them like terriers into a warren, drove them out at the rear, and chased them pell-mell across the plateau in all directions. And the Old Man still stood like a graven image on his gold-fenced platform aloft.

The white men withdrew into the paG.o.da. They had neither the power nor maybe the will to interfere between the priests and their late victims.

"We may be thankful we are not all blown up," said Beresford, as they threw themselves wearily upon the golden chairs. "I was in terror lest they should break through into the cavern. One priest put his foot into the hole and fell sprawling over the embankment into the stream. But now our way is clear."

They all turned and looked at the opening in the wall behind the throne.

"Wen s.h.i.+h has opened the door for us," said Forrester. "He must have come up from below and run off with the head-dress when our backs were turned."

"The irony of Fate!" said Beresford. "Now we will bring up the poor creatures still below, and make preparations to depart."

CHAPTER XXI

DOOM

It was a strange procession that filed some hours later through the rift towards the thundering falls. Sher Jang led the way, rifle on shoulder; the position suited his dignity, and Forrester, in giving it him, had been moved by a desire to separate him as far as possible from Hamid Gul. That worthy had again "sung his own praises quite a lot," and boasted so much of the part he had played in recent events that the s.h.i.+kari found him more offensive than ever.

Behind the leader marched the old zamindar with his daughter, and the whole body of slaves, Chinese, Tibetans, Indians of all castes and none.

They were light-hearted, even merry; the reaction from black despair was extreme. Every man bore his load. Many had stinted their supply of food, to c.u.mber themselves the more heavily with gold; for in the final sack of the paG.o.da they had seized upon every golden article that was portable.

At the rear came the Englishmen with Hamid Gul and Beresford's st.u.r.dy little Tibetan, whom they had found in one of the underground cells, despairing about his master, but wholly uncowed by the green eye. The two servants carried their masters' possessions, found in one of the cupboards behind the armoury, among them three articles on which Beresford set much store. One was the tablet that had led him and Redfern to the spot. The second was a roll of parchment giving the Old Man's pedigree; apparently he was the last of a line which had held unbroken sway for many centuries. The third was a similar roll, less ancient, inscribed with the names of the Chinese prisoners who had been employed, during a period of fifty years, in trans.m.u.ting the lead into gold. At the head of the list was a short statement which Beresford could not fully decipher, but from which he inferred that, fifty years before, a certain mandarin of Yunnan, having scented out a secret in those wilds, had organised an expedition to discover it, and coming into conflict with the father and predecessor of the present owner, had slain him in fight. The attack had been beaten off, and the Old Man had taken implacable revenge by kidnapping or otherwise impressing young members of every branch of the mandarin's family.

The white men had decided in consultation to take the whole crowd back to Dibrugarh, lay all the facts before the Government, and leave it to determine the future. Hitherto the district had been a No Man's Land; when it became known that it concealed a manufactory of gold, no doubt there would be eager compet.i.tion for its owners.h.i.+p. The breaking-up of the remnant community of priests was only a question of time.

Towards the close of the day the procession reached the forest village in which Forrester's party had left their carriers. One of the liberated prisoners acting as interpreter, it was learnt that the Nagas, tired of waiting for their employers, and convinced that they had fallen victims to the mysterious Eye, had gone away about a week before.

"I wonder if they ventured into Dibrugarh?" said Forrester.

"It's not likely," Mackenzie answered. "They've no interest in us, and as they've taken our baggage, they'll appropriate that in lieu of pay."

"I hope Redfern recovered," said Jackson.

"I've grave fears about that," said Beresford. "It is more than a month since we parted, and if he were well he would have sent up a relief force long before this. Poor old Runnymede!"

"He didn't know we came, of course," said Mackenzie. "Maybe we were a.s.ses not to tell somebody. They all think we are holiday making!"

"By Jinks! I'm ready for a holiday now," cried Jackson.

"A bath and a change of togs would be enough for the moment," said Forrester. "I've never been tempted to compare Dibrugarh to heaven before! We can't leave these people to wander without guidance, or I'd vote for pus.h.i.+ng on faster to-morrow. I long to smell soap again."

By dint of hard marching they made more rapid progress next day. In the afternoon, emerging from a tract of forest land, they recognised at some distance the well-remembered contours of the hill which Redfern had named Monkey-face. They had set their course towards its base when a glint of light on the hill-top attracted their attention.

"n.o.body heliographing, surely!" exclaimed Forrester.

"There's somebody up there, though," cried Jackson. "Don't you see figures moving?"

They halted, and gazing ahead, made out several small moving objects on the skyline. Every now and then there was a flash, reflected from the rays of the declining sun.

"Would you not say that's a tent?" asked Mackenzie presently, when they had moved a little nearer. He indicated an object of conical shape on the skyline.

"A tent it is!" answered Forrester. "And by Jinks! they've seen us!

They're mounting horses! They're galloping down!"

The distance was still too great for the forms of the riders to be clearly distinguished, and as a measure of precaution the Englishmen called a general halt, and placed themselves, with those of their followers who had firearms, in the van. They watched the hors.e.m.e.n steadily, and in growing excitement. Pith helmets, the khaki dress, the very manner of their riding, bred conviction.

"The a.s.sam Light Horse!" Jackson declared.

He waved his arms and cheered frantically. His companions took up the cry, and a faint response came from the galloping hors.e.m.e.n.

"There's old Jenkins!" cried Forrester presently, recognising a comrade.

"And McIlwaine!" Mackenzie chimed in.

"And Paddy!" from Jackson.

"And, on my life, dear old Runnymede himself!" shouted Beresford. "I knew he wouldn't fail us!"

He started forward impetuously, the others following. The hors.e.m.e.n dashed down, reined up their steeds, and sprang to the ground. There was laughing and hand-shaking, a confused and deafening exchange of welcomes, protests, demands for explanation.

"You old frauds!"

"Dashed unfair!"

"You've had all the fun!"

"Why didn't ye give us all a chance, then?"

"What's kept you, you set of blighters?"

"A pretty set of scarecrows, by Jove!"

Redfern and Beresford clasped hands in silence awhile.