"Good Lord!" meditated the American. He thought of asserting that he was. Then reflected that Mary, who knew nothing of what was passing, would hardly bear out his story. But he could not let the opportunity go by without asserting some claim to the girl. "I was to marry her," he compromised, "when we returned from the desert."
Gela barked forth a curt word and strode from the door, after a keen glance at the American.
"The Kha Khan says that he will take her. Doubtless there are many women where you come from. He desires the Kha Rakcha, whose life he saved. Wu Fang Chien would have slain her. So said the yellow priests."
Gray glowered at Garluk, who smiled back.
"Gela has never seen such a woman as the Kha Rakcha. She is as beautiful as an aloe tree in bloom," chattered thetumani. "She will bear him strong children, and a son to wear his sword when he is old."
"If she does not agree—what then?"
"It will make no difference. Bassalor Danek has said that she will be a worthy wife to his grandson. Does she not wear the talisman at her throat? That is a good omen for the Wusun. Did she not come here to seek the Wusun? Moreover, if Gela marries her, then Wu Fang Chien cannot take her."
"What if I forbid?" asked Gray dryly.
"No one will heed you," explained Garluk frankly.
Gray considered the matter, frowning.
"Take me to the Kha Rakcha," he ordered.
Garluk made a gesture of denial.
"It is forbidden. To-morrow night the maiden is to be married. There will be a feast, and a great chant. We will drink wine of mare's milk."
"Then send Timur to me."
"It is night, and he is lame. After sunrise, perhaps he will come."
With that Garluk slipped from the door. Gray heard the sound of a bar falling into place. He was shut in for the night.
He slept little. The fate destined for Mary had come as a complete surprise. It was not strange, he reflected, that Gela should want her for a wife. Nor that Bassalor Danek should approve the marriage. He might have foreseen something of the kind.
No wonder the Gur-Khan had taken excellent care of the girl, when she was marked for the bride of his grandson. Gray swore fluently, and vainly. The calmness with which the Wusun had put him aside was irksome. He wished that he had claimed to be the husband of Mary. It was too late now.
Nor did he hope that the girl's objection, once she heard of the proposed match, would carry weight. Evidently marriage among the Wusun was arranged by the parents of the parties concerned, as in China. Bassalor Danek's word was law. And the old chieftain fully appreciated the beauty of the girl.
Gray groaned, reflecting that the coincidence of the cross that the girl wore had rendered her doubly desirable in the eyes of the Wusun. He wondered how they had seen the cross. Was the marriage to be the price of his safety? He groaned at the thought.
Flight, even if he could reach the girl, from Sungan, was not to be thought of for the present. Wu Fang Chien would be alert for just such an attempt. And Gray did not see how he could hope to win through the lepers.
"They say blood calls to blood," he muttered. Then he scowled savagely. "Confound Gela!"
He was hungry for sight of the girl. She must be worried about him, as he had not been able to visit her yesterday as he had promised. His involuntary protest had excited the suspicions of Garluk. He would find it difficult now to escape from the surveillance of thetumani, if he should make the attempt.
And beyond the Wusun was Wu Fang Chien, watching keenly for any effort on the part of Gray or Mary to leave Sungan.
It was clear to Gray that the mandarin could not permit them to leave the place alive. For one thing, they would carry the news of the massacre of the caravan. And the tidings of the existence of the Wusun.
It would be fatal to the plans of Wu Fang Chien and the Buddhists if the Wusun should be discovered. The knowledge of a race of ancient Asia that worshipped the cross would be a severe blow to the Mongolians. The Wusun were dying out. Soon they would be extinct, and the danger over. Until then Wu Fang Chien must guard his prisoners.
The situation afforded little comfort to Gray. At daybreak he pounded on his door. In time Garluk came with food. Timur, he said, would visit Gray presently, in the morning. No, the Man-from-the-Outside could not leave the tower. Bassalor Danek had issued orders. He was concerned for the safety of his guests as the soldiers of the Chinese had been seen assembling outside the wall.
The Wusun, said Garluk, had mustered their fighting men at the wall and in the passages, under Gela. After the wedding the Chinese could not interfere with the Kha Rakcha, for she would be the wife of the Kha Khan.
Gray dismissed Garluk, to hasten the approach of Timur, and watched moodily from the embrasure. He knew that he was little better than a prisoner. Hours passed while the sun climbed higher. He noticed an unusual activity in Sungan, and saw bodies of armed men pass from point to point.
The discipline of the place was strict. Probably, he reflected, a heritage from the military ancestors of the Wusun. It was noon when Timur entered the chamber and seated himself calmly on the rugs.
Gray curbed his anxiety, and greeted the lame councilor quietly. He had a desperate game to play with nothing to rely upon but his own wits.
"Garluk said that you had need of me," observed Timur, scanning him keenly.
"I have a word to say to you," corrected Gray quietly.
"It is said," he added as the old man was silent, "that the Kha Rakcha is to be asked in marriage by Gela, the Kha Khan. Is this so?"
"They said the truth. The wedding will be tonight, after sunset."
Gray's heart sank at this. He had hoped, illogically, that Garluk had exaggerated the state of affairs. Timur stretched out a lean hand. In it was a small square of linen, Mary's handkerchief.
The American took it eagerly. It was a message from Mary, written in the Chinese ink, and it ran as follows:
Bassalor Danek has ordered me to marry Gela. I have said no, a hundred times, but they will not listen. It will be to-night. They will not let me see you. I don't know what to do, Captain Gray. Please, please think of something—to delay it. I did not dream they wanted to do anything like that. I would rather face Wu Fang Chien. Why could not you come to me? Please, help me. Timur has agreed to carry this.
It was signed with Mary's name. The girlish appeal stirred Gray strangely. She had sent to him for aid. Yet there was little he could do. He followed the note mechanically and faced Timur, thinking quickly.
"In her own country," he said slowly, "the Kha Rakcha has high rank. Because of this it is not fitting that she should marry among the Wusun. She does not want to stay in Sungan. It will kill her. This is the truth."
"I have seen that you speak the truth," assented the chieftain. "And my heart is warm for love of the woman who talked with me. Yet Gela has rank among us."
"But she does not wish the marriage."
"It is the word of Bassalor Danek."
"You know that I speak what is so. The woman will die, if not by her own hand, from unhappiness."
Timur looked sadly from the embrasure.
"It may be. But death is slow in coming to the young, O Man-from-the-Outside. Before she dies the Kha Rakcha will bear Gela a son. That is the wish of Bassalor Danek."
Gray's lips tightened grimly.
"Is that a just reward for coming over the desert to find the Wusun and lighten their captivity?"
"It is fate."
"If it comes to pass the White Spirit will never leave Sungan, but will die here. Will you lay that black fate upon her?"
"Will she not be kept here, if she does not marry Gela?"
Gray looked up hotly. "The Kha Rakcha is not a subject of Bassalor Danek. She is a servant of a mightier king——"
Timur raised his hand.
"Harken, youth," he said gravely. "I have seen your love for the Kha Rakcha, and I know that she has love for you in her heart——" Gray's pulses quickened at this—"but the will of Bassalor Danek must be obeyed. I know not if it is fitting that she marry among the Wusun. But the Gur-Khan has said that by the marriage, aid may be obtained from her people for the Wusun. Blood ties are strong. And the Wusun are fast dying out. If the marriage takes place, the Kha Rakcha will remain in Sungan. That is the word of the Gur-Khan. It may not be altered."
Silently, Gray studied the pattern of the carpet at his feet. His firm mouth was set in hard lines. Argument was gaining him nothing. And he must make his effort to save the girl now or never.
"I claim the White Spirit as my bride," he said. "By right of love. She is mine."
Timur combed his white beard thoughtfully.
"How can it be?"
"In this way. Bassalor Danek has given to Gela what is mine. Since the time of Kaidu and Genghis Khan it has been the law of Mongolia that a maiden should not be taken from the man to whom she is betrothed."
"Bassalor Danek has decided. It is for the good of his people."
"I, who have come across the desert to the Wusun, know that it is not so. I call upon the Wusun to abide by the law of Mongolia."
"The marriage feast is being prepared. The White Spirit will be clothed in the robe of blessed felicity."
"Let it be so." Gray looked at the old man steadily. "Let there be a marriage this night, according to the custom of the Wusun. But I, as well as Gela, claim the girl. You know the law?"
"If two men say that a woman is theirs, they must decide the matter with weapons in their hands."
"That is the law, Timur. From across the desert I have known it. I will fight Gela. Thus it will be decided."
Timur glanced at him curiously.
"The Kha Khan is no light foe. He will fight with swords. He has learned the art of sword play from his fathers."
"Be it so." Gray rose. "Bear this message to the Kha Khan. Say that the White Spirit is mine."
The Wusun sighed.
"It is the way of the hot blood of youth. You are foolhardy. Why should friends fight when Wu Fang Chien is approaching our gates? Still, what fate has written will come to pass. I will tell Bassalor Danek your message."
That night there was a stir in Sungan. Rumor of the coming event had spread through the ruins, and, with the exception of the guards that Gela stationed to prevent any attempt at entrance on the part of the Chinese, the whole of the Wusun men flocked into the council hall.
Gray, from his tower, watched the glow of the sunset and saw the shadows form about the gardens of Sungan. The evening chant floated up to him, mournful and melodious. Occasionally he saw a sentry pass along the outline of the wall.
He wondered grimly whether he would see the next sunrise. Timur had announced, by Garluk, that Gray's challenge to the chief of thetumanihad been accepted.
Garluk was voluble with excitement. He made no secret of his belief that the American would die at the hand of Gela. It would be an excellent spectacle, he said. He asked if Gray intended to protect himself by magic during the combat.
Gray did not answer. He had had no experience in handling a sword; the primitive blades of the Wusun were clumsy weapons. Doubtless Gela was skilled in their use.
The situation afforded little ground for hope. Certainly Gray, who had had an opportunity to measure his adversary, was not overconfident. He was resolved to make the best of it. He was doing the only thing he could to aid the girl.
He was not sorry. Gray was the type that did not shirk physical conflict. And his love for Mary Hastings was without stint. He did not know how much she cared for him. He was incredulous of Timur's words—that she could love him.
At Garluk's summons, he followed thetumanidown the stairs. The corridors were thronged with men who stared at him avidly. So great was the crowd that Garluk could barely force his way into the hall.
The place was brightly lighted with candles. Overhead, the gallery was filled with the Wusun. On the daïs Bassalor Danek was talking earnestly with Timur and the other elders of the tribe.
A murmur went up at Gray's entrance and the throng turned, as one man, to stare at him. He returned their scrutiny, from the doorway, hoping that he might see the girl. Would she be brought to the hall? He did not know. Timur limped forward.
"The bronze bracelet," he ordered Garluk. Thetumaniproduced a metal armlet which he clamped upon Gray's left forearm. It was an ancient ornament, engraved with lettering unfamiliar to the American. He wondered idly what Van Schaick would have thought of it.
"It shall be as you wish," said Timur gravely. "Bassalor Danek is just. He has granted your claim. If you are the victor, the White Spirit shall be yours."
"It is well," assented Gray.
He spoke mechanically, feeling the phenomena known to men who are about to go into bodily danger—the acute interest in all about him, merged into indifference.
"We have sent for the White Spirit," added Timur. "Gela will bring her."
A fresh murmur caused Gray to raise his eyes. He searched the throng greedily. At the door behind the daïs Mary Hastings had appeared. The murmur changed into a loud exclamation of astonishment.
The girl had been forced to discard her own clothing for a loose garment of white silk, fitted with a wide girdle of the same material and a veil that covered her face below the eyes. Her hair hung over her slender shoulders in bronze coils on which the candlelight played fitfully.
Her arms were bare. Thrust into the glare, she shrank back. Then she caught sight of Gray and would have started forward, but the women around prevented her. For a moment her eyes sought his pleadingly.
"The Kha Rakcha," murmured those near him. "Aie—she is fair."
Gray's heart leaped at the sight. Then Gela appeared at the girl's side, his tall bulk towering above the women. He was armed with his sword and appeared well pleased with the situation.
"A fine stage setting," thought Gray whimsically. "Just like the plays at home. Only the savage in this case isn't ready to drop by the footlights when the time comes. And his sword isn'tpapier maché."
His mind ran on, illogically. But his gaze fastened hungrily on the girl. He admired the pluck which kept her erect and calm in the face of the multitude.
"A thoroughbred!" he muttered. He wanted to call to her, but the commotion would drown his voice. He did not look at her again. The appeal in the girl's mute eyes was too great.
With this came a quick revulsion of feeling. His stupor of indifference vanished at sight of the slight figure among the staring Wusun. A hot longing to fight for her swept over him—a desire to match his strength with her enemies, to win her for himself and keep her.
The thought sent the blood pulsing through him quickly. He smiled and waved at the girl, who responded bravely.
Gray moved toward her, followed by Timur. He wished to speak to her. And then came the incident which altered matters entirely and which set in motion the strange events of that night.
Gela had been talking with Bassalor Danek. In a burst of pride, the Kha Khan turned to the girl, caught her about the knees and lifted her easily for all to see. Surprise caused the girl to cry out.
"Gela!" Gray called angrily, "that was ill done. The Kha Rakcha is not for your hands to touch!"
The youth did not understand. Mastered by an impulse of passion, he laughed, pressing the white woman closer. An echoing cry came from the Wusun. Gela kissed the bare arm of the girl, running his free hand through her hair.
The sight was too much for Gray's prudence. Pushing Timur aside, he sprang forward. Several of thetumanistepped into his path. Gray struck at them viciously.
He was in the grip of a cold rage which renders a man doubly dangerous. His powerful body flung forward through the group of his enemies. Love for the girl blinded him to the consequences of his mistake.
An outcry arose. Gray paid no heed to it, his fists smashing into the faces of those who tried to hold him. He wrenched free from men who caught his legs.
"Peace!" cried the great voice of Bassalor Danek.
An injured Wusun, bleeding from the mouth, struck at Gray with his sword. The white man stepped under the blow and twisted the weapon away from its holder.
Aflame with the lust of conflict, he swung his blade against the others that flashed in his face. The force of his trained muscles beat down their guard and cleared him a way to the foot of the daïs.
Then the Wusun gave back, at a sharp command. A space was cleared around him. He saw Gela standing alone before him, smiling, weapon in hand.
"Ho!" cried the voice of Garluk. "It is come."
Others caught up the words. "It is come. Gela is ready. One must die!"
"One must die," echoed Garluk, "or give way to the other."
A quick glance upward showed Gray that Bassalor Danek was leaning forward in his chair. Mary was watching tensely from the group of women.
Gray had little time to think. The man who now confronted him was a more formidable adversary than those he had knocked aside. Gela stood, poised easily, his bare sword swinging in a knotted arm.
Gray smiled and moved forward, while the throng of the Wusun watched greedily.
The thought of what he was to do had come to him. And he acted on it instantly.
Swinging his weapon over his head he leaped at Gela. The Kha Khan's sword went up to guard the blow. As it did so, the white man dropped his blade and caught the other's arm.
It had been done in the space of a second, coolly and recklessly. Gray drew the arm of Gela over his own shoulder, turning as he did so. It was a wrestling trick and it brought the Wusun's weight full on the sword arm.
A wrench, a quick change of footing, and Gela's sword dropped to the floor. Both men were now unarmed.
Gray had taken the only course that would save his life. Unskilled in use of the sword, he had reduced the fight to even terms. But he felt at once the great strength of the Wusun.
Gela gripped him about the waist, crushing his arms to his side. Gray felt a sharp pain in his back, and stiffened against the hold. Slowly he forced his arms up until his fists were under the other's chin.
It was now a trial of sheer strength. Gela strained at his grip, locking his iron-like muscles in an effort to bend his foe back. Gray brought one knee up into the Wusun's stomach and pressed up with his fists.
For a long moment the two were locked motionless. Silence held the hall.
"Ho!" came the voice of Garluk, "we will see the man crushed. Gela will crush him as a bullock beats down a sheep."
They were panting now, and the perspiration streamed down into Gray's eyes. He had not guessed the Wusun was so strong. The scene and the spectators faded from his sight, leaving the vision of Gela's set face staring into his own.
In weight and muscle the Wusun had the advantage of his adversary. But Gray was not putting forth his strength to the utmost, knowing that the hold must be changed when Gela tired.
Seeing that he could not snap Gray's spine by sheer weight, Gela shifted his grip swiftly, reaching for a lower hold.
Gray had been waiting for this. As the other released his pressure, he struck. It was a hurried blow, but it jerked back the Wusun's head and rocked him on his feet.
Instantly Gray struck with the other hand. This time his fist traveled farther and Gela fell to the floor.
He was up at once, growling angrily. As he rushed, Gray beat him off coolly—short, telling blows that kept him free from the other's grasp.
"Ho!" laughed Timur, "which is the bullock now? The man has sharp horns."
Gela hesitated, bleeding from nose and mouth. He had never been forced to face a man who was master of such blows. He swayed, gasping with his exertions, his brown head thrust forward from between his wide shoulders.
Gray waited, poised alertly, regaining his breath.
Then Gela lowered his head and sprang forward. Gray caught him twice as he came—with each fist. But this time the man was not to be stopped.
Gray was caught about the shoulders, swung from his feet and dashed to the stone floor. He felt the other's knees drive into his body, and rolled to one side as Gela's hands fumbled for his throat. He knew it would mean death to be pinned to the floor by the Wusun.
Lights were dancing before his eyes. The hall had grown dark, for Gela's arm was over his eyes.
For a long space the two were locked almost motionless on the floor.
He heard Mary cry out. The sound was drowned in an exultant shout, from the watchers. Gray was on his knees. He drew a long, painful breath. His lungs had been emptied by the fall to the hard floor.
Silently, he set his teeth and warded off the hands that sought his throat. With an effort, he rose to his feet, throwing off the weight of his enemy. He staggered as he did so, and realized that he was on the point of utter exhaustion.
The shout grew in volume as Gela, still vigorous, advanced on Gray with outstretched arms. The white man stepped back. Again he avoided the clutch of the Wusun who was grinning in triumph. As he did so he summed his remaining strength with grim determination, watching Gela.
Again the Wusun advanced. This time Gray did not draw back. He launched forward bodily, eyes fixed on his foe's face. His fist caught Gela full on the cheek-bone, under the eye.
Watching, and fighting off the stupor of weakness, Gray saw Gela's head jerk back. The Wusun slipped to the floor, and lay there.
It was all that Gray could do to keep his feet. His head was on his chest, and his dull sight perceived that Gela was trying to crawl toward him.
The muscles of the Wusun moved feebly, pulling his body over the floor. His splendid shoulders heaved. The blow that he received would have knocked out an ordinary man.
Gray, his shirt torn from his back, and blood dripping from his mouth, watched. Gela edged nearer. There was silence in the hall.
Then the Wusun's head dropped to the floor and his shoulders fell limp. He ceased moving forward. Gray's blow had ended the struggle. Both men were exhausted; but the white man was able to keep his feet.
As his sight cleared, he looked up at Mary. The girl's gaze burned into his. Gray moved toward her, fumbling at his left arm.
He mounted the steps of the daïs. He took the bronze armlet weakly in his hand. Barely, he was able to raise it and place it around the girl's throat. She did not draw back.
Then he put his hand on her shoulder and turned to face Bassalor Danek. As he did so, there was a commotion in the crowd at the hall entrance. A Wusun stepped forward. He held a strung bow in one hand.
"I bring news, O Gur-Khan," the newcomer cried. "Wu Fang Chien is within the gate of Sungan."
At this, confusion arose among the Wusun. Women screamed and thetumanishouted angrily.
"The Chinese soldiers have driven back the sentries on the wall," repeated the messenger. "Wu Fang Chien sends word to you. He has come for the two white people. They must be given up to him. Or he will search the whole of Sungan."
The uproar died down at this. All eyes were turned to Bassalor Danek. The Gur-Khan sat quietly in his chair, but the hand that stroked his beard trembled.
"Will Wu Fang Chien break the covenant of our people?" he demanded sternly.
"Aye; he has mustered his soldiers with guns."
Gray felt the girl draw closer to him. She did not know what was going on, yet guessed at trouble in the air. He put his arm over her shoulders, thrilled that she did not protest.
Instead, her hand reached up and pressed his softly. Her hair touched his cheek. He had married Mary Hastings, by the law of the Wusun. It was not marriage as their customs ordained; but he felt the exultation that had come when he bound the circlet of bronze about her slim throat. She was his! He had won her from Gela. And—miraculously—she was content to have his arm about her. Of course he could not urge the claim of this barbaric ritual on her—if they ever won free from Sungan. For the moment, however, he joyed in the thought that he had fought for and won the woman he loved. The new menace, voiced by the messenger, slipped from his mind. He saw only the girl.
Then he realized that she was blushing hotly.
"Please," she whispered, "I—I must get my clothes. This dress is not—I don't want to wear it."
"It's mighty becoming," he said, laughingly.
He spoke haphazard, his triumph still strong upon him.
"Oh!" She smiled back. "Now that you are my—master, they'll let me change to my own things, won't they? I'll run back to Bassalor Danek's house."
He saw that she was disturbed by the multitude, But the lines about his mouth hardened. His arm tightened about her.
"You won't leave me—now," he whispered. Then he saw sudden alarm in her eyes. "We're in trouble, as usual. I'll send a woman for your clothes." He spoke lightly, trying to reassure her. "Here's Timur——"
At his request, the lame chieftain curtly dispatched an attendant for Mary's garments. Timur was watching Bassalor Danek. The Gur-Khan was staring blankly before him. He was called upon to make a decision which meant much to his people.
Gray also was watching the ruler of the Wusun, wondering whether the latter's pride would lead him to resist Wu Fang Chien.
Then a figure pushed through thetumaniat the foot of the daïs. It was Gela, staggering with weariness, the blood still flowing from the cuts in his face. In spite of this he carried himself proudly, and there was a savage light in the eyes that peered at Bassalor Danek and the two white people.
He pointed at Gray and growled something that the American did not understand.
"He says," interpreted Timur, "that you are a brave man. That the word of Gela will not be broken. He will guard the Kha Rakcha from the Buddhists. And he will protect you who are the husband of the woman."
A murmur of approval came from the ranks of thetumaniat the words of their leader. Bassalor Danek looked troubled.
"It is well said," cried Gray. He stepped forward, holding out his hand. Gela drew himself up defiantly. It may have been that he did not understand the gesture of the white man.
"Gela says," explained Timur, "that he will do this for the Kha Rakcha. Not for you."
But Gray had seen his chance, and turned to Bassalor Danek.
"Harken, Gur-Khan of the Wusun," he said clearly. "You must answer Wu Fang Chien. You have heard the word of Gela, who is a generous foe. Have you forgotten that your fathers and mine were once the same? Or the talisman in the shrine? By this thing, I ask a favor. It will be the last."
"Speak," responded the chieftain quietly. "I have not forgotten."
"The Kha Rakcha and I have come across the desert to Sungan to seek the Wusun, who are of our blood. Many died, that we should come here. And"—he recalled the words Mirai Khan had once used—"we have eaten your meat and bread. What we came for has been accomplished. Why should we stay here? Would it not be better to bring word of what we have seen to those of your blood who are across the desert?"
Bassalor Danek meditated, stroking his beard.
"Once I said to Wu Fang Chien and the priests, O Man-from-the-Outside, that you are my guest. So it shall be. I will not give you up."
"The time of the Kha Rakcha in Sungan is ended," returned Gray boldly. "Like the crescent moon she has come and will go. She must carry the word of the talisman in the shrine back with her. It was for this that the Kha Rakcha was sent. She will return to a king who is greater than the Manchu emperor once was."
The Gur-Khan shook his head shrewdly.
"What power is greater than the Dragon Empire? What other people are there than the Mongols, the Kirghiz and the Buddhists priests?"
"Beyond the desert is a sea, and beyond the sea are those whose blood was once yours. We will take our message to them and they will know of the Wusun."
Timur limped forward to the Gur-Khan's side.
"A thought has come to me, O Khan of the Wusun," he said slowly. "It is a high thought and an omen. It is that this man and woman will return whence they have come, with speech of what they saw in Sungan. It is written in the book of fate that this shall be. Why else did the white man overcome Gela?"
He turned to Gray, with a moody smile on his lined face.
"Your people, O Man-from-the-Outside, will not find the Wusun, if they send again. That is my thought. The sun passes from the heavens and it is night; the camel leaves his bones to dry in the sands. So will the Wusun pass from Mongolia. The priests of Buddha are powerful. Soon the sands will climb over the walls of Sungan."
A murmur from a hundred throats, a muttered lament, greeted this.
"We will deliver our message," said Gray.
Timur was silent, standing beside the troubled Gur-Khan. A quick emotion of friendship for these resigned captives of Sungan swept over Gray. He turned to Gela.
"Will you do this for the Kha Rakcha?" he asked. "Will you escort us through the ranks of the Buddhist priests and the soldiers? It will not be an easy task. There will be bloodshed. But it would save the life of the Kha Rakcha."
Timur interpreted his request. The Kha Khan lifted his head proudly. He spoke rapidly, harshly, pointing to the watching warriors.
"He will do what you say," assented Timur. "Thetumaniwill take you through the guards of Sungan. It has not been done before——"
"Wu Fang Chien first broke the covenant," reminded the American.
"Aie! It will be a hard struggle. The soldiers have guns——"
Gela broke in sternly. Already the light of conflict showed in his keen eyes. He issued a series of guttural commands to thetumani. The women began to press from the hall, uttering wailing laments. The young men clustered around the Kha Khan.
"Wu Fang Chien will scourge us for this," muttered Timur.
"Wu Fang Chien," pointed out Gray grimly, "may not live to do it. Likewise, it is better, for the peace of the Wusun, that we should go from Sungan."
He thought, also, of Gela's savage love for the girl. For the moment the Wusun was their friend. But the future might alter that. He had seen his opportunity, and seized it. Thetumaniwere drawing their weapons and chattering excitedly.
Gray had reasoned that now the Buddhists were assembled at the gates of Sungan. If he and the girl could penetrate their ranks, they might obtain a good start over the desert, which was now free of the outer guards.
"As you have said," announced Bassalor Danek, rising, "it shall be done."
"What is happening?" Mary asked anxiously. Sensing the importance of what was passing, she had not spoken before.
Gray laughed. He touched her shoulder shyly.
"Come to me, as soon as you are ready, Mary. Gela is a generous foe. He will guide us beyond the wall."
She looked at the young Kha Khan gratefully. Well she knew what the danger would be, although Gray had not mentioned it. On a quick impulse the girl stooped and picked up Gela's weapon from the floor. She placed it in the hand of the Wusun. The action caught the fancy of thetumani.
"The Kha Rakcha is one at heart with the Wusun!" they cried, looking eagerly at the beautiful woman.
"Aye, the Kha Rakcha!" shouted Gela, his moodiness vanished. "We will shed our blood for the white queen."
"Ho—the white queen!" echoed thetumani.
What happened now came swiftly and with little warning. Bassalor Danek, once the die was cast, ceded his authority to Gela. The traditional leadership of the Wusun was the Kha Khan's in time of war. Now, for the first time in generations they were to resist the authority of their gaolers.
Gray remembers clearly that Bassalor Danek bade them a solemn farewell standing in his white robe at the foot of the daïs. Then the Gur-Khan, who was impressed with the importance of the occasion, raised his hand with dignity.
"By the talisman at your throat, O Kha Rakcha," he said, "do not forget the Wusun—if it is the decree of fate that you should pass from here in safety."
"She will not forget," promised Gray. He watched the aged figure depart for the tower where Bassalor Danek intended to watch what was to happen through the Eyes-of-Long-Sight.
Gela assumed command impetuously. Gray watched him muster thetumani. The young men were afire with anticipation of a struggle. The long pent up enmity against their captors was about to be released. From the dwellings of Sungan came the lament of the women. It shrilled in the night air—the world-old plaint of women before battle.
Timur lingered with them. The three were surrounded by the hunters who had strung their bows and unsheathed their heavy swords.
There was only a half-light in the upper hall of the council-temple where they now stood. It reflected faintly upon the red sandstone of the walls, with the faded, painted figures of an older age looking down upon them.
Gutturally, the warriors spoke under their breath to each other, laughing much, although not loudly. Some, however, leaned upon their bows silently, their eyes blank. This note of tensity was familiar to the American. Gray had watched men go forward under fire with the same forced merriment, the same semi-stupor.
But the hunters were contented. Young men, for the most part, their lean faces hardened and lined by exposure to the sun, their bloodshot eyes narrow, their lips thin and cracked—they smiled more frequently than not. A savage pleasure lurked in their eyes. They were to lift their swords against the oppressors of the Wusun. Gray counted the swords. They were all too few.
Wearied of confinement, they were, for a brief moment, to strike into the desert as free men. Perhaps. For they might never win beyond the wall.
They shuffled their yak-skin boots, breathing heavily. The air in the gallery became close and hot with scent of soiled leather. Mary stood close to Gray, her shoulder against his. She had changed to her torn dress and crumpled jacket. Her glance was on him.
"Robert!"
"Yes—Mary." He looked down, his face alight at hearing her speak his name.
"You were frowning. Will it be so very bad?" Her slender body pressed against his so that he could feel the pulse of her heart. "Then you mustn't leave me—this time."
"No."
He wanted to take her in his arms, to call her his wife. But he checked the swift impulse sternly. He had no right. How was he to know that she was yearning for just this comfort?
Gela waved his arm, and there was a shuffling of many feet, moving forward.
"Robert!"
Her eyes, shining with faith in him, drew nearer and held his own. His arm drew her closer to him, savagely. Perhaps he hurt her. But she did not protest.
Blindly, he pressed his mouth against the fragrance of her hair. Clumsily, with dry lips, he kissed her throat and cheek, marveling at the pulse that beat so strongly where he touched.
Two swift, slender arms closed around his neck. The girl sighed, quivering, uttering a soft, happy murmur. Gray, unbelieving, tried to look into her face, but tender, moist lips touched his in a quick caress. Her eyes were half closed, and she was strangely pale.
"Mary!" he whispered, and again: "Mary."
She was smiling now, the gray eyes glad.
Gela cast an appraising eye over the assemblage and gave a command. Thetumanipressed forward to the stairs that led to the entrances above ground.
Gray felt Mary's hand seek his. A cool breath of air brushed their hot faces. He saw the glitter of torches, lighted by thetumani. Then they passed out into the night.
The sands of Sungan were vacant except for the group of warriors under Gela. A slight breeze stirred among the aloes and tamarisks, lifting tiny spirals of dust under their feet and causing the torches to flicker.
Then the torches were dashed into the sand, and the warrior groups became shadowy forms, moving against the deeper shadow of the towers.
Overhead the moon was cold and bright. Its radiance showed the dark figures of Chinese on the wall, and glittered on their guns. At the gate in the wall in front of them was a group of priests. Wu Fang Chien was not to be seen.
Between thetumaniand the wall was a level stretch of sand perhaps two hundred yards in length.
"See!" chattered the old Timur, "the message of Bassalor Danek has been sent. They are waiting."
"It would not be well to rush the wall," cautioned Gray quickly, sizing up the situation. "They have guns——"
"If I had a bow!" Timur's reluctance had vanished under the growing excitement. "Ho! The hunters will hunt new prey."
One of the priests cried out something that Gray did not understand. Gela answered defiantly, and thetumanirushed forward, carrying Gray and Mary with them.
A shot sounded from the wall, greeted by a defiant shout from the Wusun. A scattering volley followed. The guards—Chinese irregulars, Dungans, bandits, followers of the priests, what-not—were poor marksmen. But the range was close. And the Wusun, ignorant of tactics against gunfire, were bunched close.
Gray saw several stumble and fall in the sand. More shots. The torches wavered. Timur stooped and picked up a bow and arrow from one of the fallen.
The priests had vanished from the gate. This had been closed. But not before Gray sighted groups of the lepers running about in confusion. Some seemed to be armed.
The Wusun wavered under the fire, as undisciplined men are bound to do. Gray forced the girl to crouch in the sand with Timur while he ran forward to Gela. The Kha Khan was shouting angrily at his followers.
"The passages!" Gray seized Gela's arm. "Here, you will be killed. Go down to the passages."
Gela, the hot light of battle in his scarred face, stared at him unheedingly. But Timur, who was not to be left behind, limped forward and echoed Gray's words.
Comprehension dawned on the Kha Khan, and his eyes narrowed shrewdly. He shouted to his men. Thetumanibegan to run back, leaving dark bodies prone in the sand.
Gray made his way to the temple with Mary. A shout of triumph sounded from the wall. The firing did not cease. The blood-lust had been aroused in the men on the wall, who had found the killing of the poorly armed Wusun an easy matter.
But Gray, seeing the set faces around him, realized that thetumaniwere not going to give up the struggle. It was an age-old feud—the struggle of the oppressed Central Asians against their Mongol captors.
He and the girl were swept along at Gela's side like leaves in a swift current. Down into the temple the Wusun pressed, silent this time. They streamed into the underground corridors, led by men with torches. The shouting over-ground grew fainter.
Once Gray stumbled over a body. It was a woman, bleeding from a death wound in the throat. The priests had been here, and warfare in the Gobi reckons not of sex.
The flutter of a yellow robe appeared in the corridor in front of them. A bow twanged, and Gray saw an arrow appear between the shoulders of the fleeing priest. A knife that the Buddhist held clattered to the floor.
Thetumanishouted and pressed forward. They were under the wall now, and the passage began to rise. Gray saw that it was the same that led to the well.
A sharp command from Gela silenced the Wusun. They ran out into the well and up the steps, savagely intent on their purpose.
They emerged into confusion. Gray saw that other Wusun were running out from the adjoining passages, driving the priests before them. The Chinese on the wall had turned. Taken by surprise, they were firing hastily. Their foes were scattered now, and the fight became a hand-to-hand affair.
One by one the torches dropped to the sand. Swords flashed in the moonlight. Gray saw some of the men of the leper pack, led by priests. These were met with arrows of thetumaniand driven back. They fled easily.
Forced to hand-grips, the Chinese at the wall wavered.
"Aie!" cried Timur. "The fight goes well. I am young again." He pointed exultantly at the leaping forms of the hunters.
The girl walked quietly at Gray's side. The American picked up an empty musket and went forward. It was a poor weapon, but it served. Gela was in advance of his followers, who had cleared the wall now and were pacing forward, seeking out the groups of Chinese.
By now the soldiers were running back through the outskirts of the city.
Gray could see the leper pack mingling with the shadows among the sand dunes. Occasionally, there was a shrill cry as the Wusun hunted out a yellow-robed Buddhist. The Chinese were fleeing in earnest. The only light now came from the moon. It was a battle of shadows, wherein dim forms leaped and struck with bared knives, peering at each other's face.
"Aie!" echoed the old chieftain, who was leaning on the shoulder of atumani, "this is the way our fathers drove their foes before them. It is a goodly sight."
He hobbled on, refusing to be left behind. Gray drew a deep breath, surveying the scene with experienced eye. The smoldering anger of the Wusun had cleared a temporary passage. "We are outside the city, Mary," he said.
"It is not over yet," she responded quickly. "See—there are lights ahead, to the right."
Gela had seen the same thing. He gathered together the hunters that remained about him and advanced cautiously. Rounding some dunes, they came full on the lights.
It was the camp of the Chinese guards. Camels and horses were tethered among some make-shift tents. Lanterns flickered as coolies sought to assemble the beasts.
A group of men were facing them standing uneasily in front of the tents. Gray saw the bulky figure and mandarin hat of Wu Fang Chien. The light from a lantern struck across his broad face, savage now with baffled anger. He held a rifle.
The girl gave a quick cry. It was answered by a shout from Gela.
One of the Chinese fired. The man who was supporting Timur dropped to the ground with a moan, hands clasped to his stomach.
Both Gela and Gray sprang forward at the same time. Wu Fang Chien caught sight of them and lifted his rifle. His followers shot wildly, doing no damage in the uncertain light.
The mandarin, Gray thought swiftly as he ran, had rallied some of the fugitives at the camp. Possibly he had guessed Gray's intention to leave Sungan, and was determined to prevent it at all costs.
Gray could see the man clearly as he peered at him over the sights of the rifle. The weapon was steady. Behind him, a warning shout echoed from the Wusun. Gela, at his side, did not slacken his pace.
Still Wu Fang Chien held his fire. Gray, watching intently, saw that the rifle the mandarin held was one of his own—stolen from his luggage. The thought wrought on him with grim humor. It did not occur to him to turn back. He could not leave Gela to go forward alone. The Kha Khan was panting as he ran, wearied by his efforts, but grimly intent on Wu Fang Chien.
Behind Wu Fang Chien, he saw the horses struggling at their tethers. His senses were strangely sharpened by the tensity of the moment. He heard Gela pant, and even caught the distant lament of the women of the Wusun. The coughing of frightened camels came to him clearly.
The lantern glinted on the rifle barrel that was aimed full at him. He saw Wu Fang Chien's evil eyes narrow. Then they widened. The rifle barrel wavered. And dropped to the sand. Gela and the white man halted in their tracks.
From the throat of Wu Fang Chien projected an arrow shaft, the feathers sticking grotesquely under his chin.
Slowly the mandarin's knees gave way and he fell forward on the sand, both hands gripping the arrow that snapped the thread of his life.
"Aie!" the voice of Timur rang out. "I have taken a life. I have slain an enemy of my people!"
Gray turned and saw the old chieftain standing bow in hand beside Mary. His cry had barely ceased when a yellow-robed priest sprang at him from a tent.
The Buddhist held a knife. His course took him directly toward Mary. The girl waited helplessly. Gela's warning cry rang out. Several of the Wusun were running toward her. But too far away to aid.
The priest was within a few paces of the girl, too near for Gela or Gray to interfere in time.
Then the figure of Timur limped forward. The old man struck at the priest feebly with his bow. And caught him by the shoulders.
The Buddhist stabbed the Wusun viciously, burying his knife in Timur's back. The old man uttered no sound, but kept his hold, snarling under the bite of the knife. Gray stepped to the side of Wu Fang Chien and caught up the mandarin's rifle.
It was his own piece and loaded. He laid the sights on the man in the yellow robe as the latter threw off the clinging form of Timur. The rifle cracked as the Buddhist stepped toward Mary.
The priest staggered to his knees. It had been a quick shot, and an excellent one, considering the light. Gela grunted approval.
Gray saw the girl go to the side of the stricken Timur. Then he looked about the camp. Wu Fang Chien was dead, and his remaining followers had run from the camp into the desert. Only Gela's band of the Wusun were visible, thinned in numbers, but triumphant. They thronged toward their leader, bearing useless rifles as spoil, tired, yet chuckling loudly.
The fight was over.
Gela motioned significantly to the moon which was high overhead. Time was passing, and the white man must be dispatched while the coast was free. He had not forgotten his promise in the council hall. The Kha Khan returned to Mary and led her away from the old chieftain.
Gray saw that the girl was crying. Not noisily, but quietly, trying to keep back the tears. The strain of the night was beginning to tell on her, and the death of Timur at her side had been a shock. She did not want to look back.
"I—I liked Timur," she said softly. "He was good to me."
"He was a good sort," assented Gray heartily.
For the girl's sake, he wished to leave the camp at once. Delay would mean peril. Gela seemed to have guessed his thought. The Kha Khan issued brisk orders to his followers. Then he threw his own warm, sheepskinkhalatover the girl's shoulders.
Two camels, the pick of those in the encampment, were produced. These were fitted hastily with blankets. A third was loaded—protesting loudly after the fashion of the beasts—with foodstuffs and water, commandeered from the supplies of the Chinese. Gela examined the goat skin water bags attentively and nodded with satisfaction. They were all-important.
This done, he turned to Gray and pointed again to the moon. Then he motioned out over the desert to the west to a gray expanse of shimmering earth, with scattering wisps of stunted bushes.
"He wants us to go in that direction," said the girl, "not back to China."
Gray had already reasoned out their best course. The direction of Gala agreed with his own conclusion. To the west four or five days' fast ride on camels was the river Tarim, with isolated settlements of shepherds. Here they would be across the boundary of Kashgaria and free from the authority of the Chinese Buddhists. And beyond the Tarim was Khotan—just north of the Karakorum Pass to India. He still had his maps and compass.
"From there," assented the girl, "we can reach Kashgar, where there will be merchants from Kashmir. My uncle has been at Khotan with me. It is not hard to travel to India from there."
Urged by Gela they mounted the kneeling camels. The Wusun clustered around. Out of the camp they led the white man and woman until the towers of Sungan were barely visible on the horizon.
Here they were beyond danger of meeting with Chinese fugitives. Gela halted and raised his hand in farewell. Gray and the girl did likewise.
"He has kept his word to us, and he is proud of it," whispered Mary, "and we can't thank him." For neither could speak Gela's tongue.
"Good-by, old man, and good luck," said Gray heartily, in English.
Turning back after an interval, he saw the Kha Khan and the Wusun watching them. They were seated in the sand, their faces bent toward the departing camels. Until the two were out of sight, Gela remained there.
The camels were fresh and moved swiftly. It was a clear night, with a touch of cold in the air, a forerunner of the winter that was settling down on Central Asia. The miles passed swiftly behind, as Gray, guided by his compass, kept on to the west.
They did not speak. Behind them the crimson of dawn flooded the sky. The moon paled, coldly. Early morning chill numbed the man and the girl. The long shadows of the camels appeared on the sand before them. Mists, wraith-like and grotesque, receded on the skyline. From black to gray, and then to brown the sand dunes turned. Waves of sand swept to the sky-line on either side.
They were alone in the infinity of Asia.
Gray wanted to speak, but a strong shyness gripped him. He urged his beast beside the girl's and took her hand. She did not withdraw it. This made him bold. Already the sun warmed their backs. The camels slowed to a steady trudge.
"Our honeymoon has begun," he said. His heart was beating in unruly fashion. "And in Kashgar, we can find a missionary, to—to make you really my wife—if you will."
She did not answer. Instead, she drew back thekhalatthat the Wusun had given her. Gray saw that the bronze circlet was still about her throat.
THE END