"We are not; it was said that those ladies in the carriage carried many diamonds, and it was because of that, sahib, that they were killed. We ran much more risk than I thought, when we left the jungle and took to the highway. I wonder that we have escaped so long, for we have been seen of many.
"You know we are fairly disguised."
"Yes, sahib, but so are many other fugitives; the natives know that, and therefore they scrutinize the faces more closely than ever before."
"Harkins and the doctor should have been back before this," said the missionary with growing uneasiness.
"They may not be back for hours, sahib; the danger is so great that we cannot wait for them—don't speak!"
Again the sound of horses' hoofs fell upon their ears, and the fugitives were terrified. They moved quickly to the rear of the bungalow, for they had little time to seek other shelter.
There was no jungle or grove within sight of the building into which to flee. The structure stood alone, with the exception of the cook house, where the servants lived. Luchman knew the bungalow would be visited by their enemies, and it would not do, therefore, to stay where they were. The Europeans hastily withdrew through the small door at the rear of the room they occupied, and, crossing a narrow space, found a hiding place in the abandoned kitchen.
Luchman sauntered to the front to be ready for the horsemen in the road. There were four of them, galloping two abreast, and the dismay of the Europeans may be imagined when the sudden cessation of the sound of the hoofs showed that they had reined up in front of the bungalow. There could be no doubt that they were looking for victims, and there was hope of finding them in the neighborhood.
Luchman did not hesitate to show himself where he was sure to attract the notice of the miscreants.
Suspecting him to be the khansaman, they addressed him in their native tongue and asked whether he had seen any of the Feringhees pass that way lately. Luchman replied that a carriage containing two ladies and a child had gone by but a few minutes before. They eagerly inquired the direction, and were instantly off again. The guide did not inform them that the unfortunates were already beyond their reach.
The horsemen having gone, the Europeans once more breathed freely. But the occurrences of the last half hour gave them a vivid idea of their peril. They had come to think themselves almost clear of danger from mutineers and budmashes, only to learn that they were threatened on every side.
The guide by his coolness had averted the danger for the moment, but it may be said it was only for the moment. They had chosen the worst place to await his coming, since the bungalow was of no account as a means of defense.
It was necessary that they should leave at once. It was desirable indeed that they should have the company of Harkins and Avery, but it would not do to wait for them. Luchman, therefore, called to them to follow him.
As he left the bungalow they were close behind him. He moved northward, and had not far to go before catching sight of the jungle on their left.
Luchman hastened toward this refuge, and though its malarious depths might contain the terrible tiger, the leopard, the bear, the lion, the wolf, the jackal, the hyena, the jungle cat, the boar, and deadly serpents, yet it was better than the open country, through which the merciless natives were prowling for victims.
Again Luchman turned aside from the highway, and again his quick ear caught the sound of hoofs. He thought it more than likely that the mutineers had heard of the party of Feringhees on foot, and were hunting for them. Too much risk had already been run, and the guide resolved to do all he could for those with him, leaving the young men to look out for themselves.
It took but a brief while to reach the jungle, in whose shelter the fugitives once more hoped they were safe. Telling them to keep quiet and stay where they were, the guide left them to make what might be called a reconnaissance of their position. He found it satisfactory, and expressed the hope that they would not be disturbed, so long as they were vigilant and prudent.
Having done his best, he set down the food he had brought and urged them to eat. Their appetites had returned and they partook thankfully of the nourishment.
The solicitude of the party was now for the absent friends who had left them in the bungalow. There was no means by which they could find the party in the jungle, and Luchman was asked to go in search of them. He consented, though with the muttered complaint that by the time he found them, some one would have to hunt for the missionary and his family, but the good man assured him that they would stay where they were unless driven away by the approach of danger.
Meanwhile Harkins and Avery were in need of a counselor, guide and friend.
The first, as will be recalled, dropped from the limbs of the tree, where he had taken refuge when the runaway elephant caused the howdah to be scraped from his huge back.
The first act of the sportsman, after reaching the ground, was to take a look at the demolished structure lying at the side of the road.
"Howdy?" he exclaimed, with a laugh; "considered purely as a howdah you are now of little account. I had hard work to keep my rifle all through this flurry, but I believe it hasn't received one half the bruises that I have. Is that you, doctor?"
The surgeon came forward and the two shook hands, glad enough that the adventure had come to such a fortunate ending for themselves, though the main purpose for which it was undertaken had miscarried.
"We can't get back to the bungalow too soon," said Harkins; "the night is pretty well gone, and there seem to be plenty of the natives no matter in what direction we turn."
"Yes, and there are some of them coming this way," remarked the doctor, as they started southward.
"There are only two horsemen, and we needn't turn aside for them."
The natives came along at an easy gallop, and neither halted nor slackened their speed, as they identified one of the Europeans at least, through the dust raised by the animals.
They had not gone far, however, when they suddenly wheeled and let fly with a couple of carbines at the young men. The bullets passed close, and the astounded Harkins, instantly bringing his gun to his shoulder, returned the shot. He missed, probably confused by the dust and his own excitement.
The ruffians galloped off, but there was little doubt that they would return. The fugitives decided to keep to the highway a little longer, and despite the extreme heat, moved at the fastest possible walk. The strong moonlight was of great help, but they were alarmed by the sound of firing, which they feared meant an attack upon the bungalow. The sight of a crowd swarming around a carriage in the road told the awful story. The wretches were so absorbed in their scramble for plunder, that they paid no attention to the two figures, which, leaving the road, made a wide detour beyond them.
Coming back to the highway once more, they pressed on with the same haste, and in due time reached the bungalow, whose low thatched roof they recognized while yet some distance away.
They quickly found that no one was in or near it.
"I don't know whether this is a bad omen or not," said Avery, whose solicitude was distressing.
"I hope it means that they have withdrawn to a safe place," remarked the more hopeful Harkins.
"That may be, but how are we to find out?"
"We shall have to depend on Luchman to open communication, for it is out of our power to do it ourselves."
"Here is another of the dogs; be ready for him, Harkins, and shoot first."
"I guess I won't be in a hurry," laughed the other, who, suspecting from the first the identity of the stranger, now saw that it was Luchman himself, that native rightly believing that his friends would do their best to reach the bungalow where they had parted from the others.
A minute or two was enough for each party to reach an understanding.
There was no time to lose. Day was breaking, and the mutineers and budmashes were growing altogether too numerous for comfort. The guide, therefore, quickly led the way back to the jungle, which, dark as it was, was easily threaded by him.
His companions kept close behind, and they had not gone far before their leader stopped.
"I think this is the spot, sahib," he said in a voice which despite its gentleness showed a marked tremor.
"I don't see how you can know, when everything is so indistinct. Helloa, friends! Where are you?"
Guarded as was the call of Avery, it was loud enough to be heard by any one within a radius of a hundred feet, but the listening ears caught no response.
"Call again, sahib."
Avery did as requested, but with no more result than before.
"They have moved further into the jungle," suggested Harkins. "Let's follow them."
Luchman did not speak, but in the same stealthy fashion advanced fully two hundred yards, stopping several times and emitting a peculiar whistling sound, which any member of the missionary's family would have been quick to recognize had it been heard. Both Avery and Harkins also signaled and called so often that there could be only one reason for the failure of reply: their friends were beyond hearing.
"They are gone, sahib," said Luchman, "and I have no means of finding where they are."
He explained that the last words of the missionary when they parted on the edge of the jungle included his pledge that they would not leave the spot, unless compelled to do so by the approach of danger. As he had gone away, there could be no doubt therefore of the reason for such a step.
"But why should they have gone so far," asked Harkins, "when the jungle is dense and dark enough to afford all the concealment they could need? Had the wretches approached, our friends would have had to pick their way only a short distance when they would be as invisible as if in the very heart of the jungle."
"It looks as if they had overestimated the danger. Luchman, isn't this long night almost ended?"
By way of answer he pointed to the east, where the light of the rising sun was beginning to show itself. Darkness was fleeing from the earth.
"I am glad of that," said the distressed surgeon.
"And why?" asked Harkins.
"Our eyes will be of more service; Luchman will find out something about the family, for they must have left signs in the jungle that will give some clew."
The situation of the three may be described as being in a country cultivated by ryots or small farmers. In the distance could be seen the low huts of the native village, and the well from which the supply of water to irrigate the fields was drawn. The only people visible were a couple of villagers just starting out to begin their toil in the fields that stretched from their dwellings to the very border of the jungle.
The vegetation surrounding them displayed the prodigious exuberance which amazes the traveler who visits India for the first time. The jungle looked impenetrable, and would have closed about a regiment of men like the sea over a sinking ship, so that the wonder remained as to why the three Europeans left the cover, if indeed they had done so.
"There ought to be signs here," said Avery, addressing the guide, "that will help you. I have read that the American Indian will trail his foe over the prairie, mountain and forest, no matter how light his step, and the Hindoo ought to be able to do the same."
Had the latter received the special training of the aborigines of America, there could have been little doubt of his attaining the same wonderful keenness of the eye.
As it was, Luchman and his friends scrutinized the ground as closely as they could. They saw that the soil and undergrowth had been impressed by passing feet. There was no doubt, therefore, of the recent presence of their friends, but it was important to know whether others had also visited the spot.
It was impossible to answer that question, but the probabilities were that strangers had been there very recently.
This was an alarming conclusion, for it showed the natives must have found the place of concealment within a short time after the guide departed, a fact involving some occurrences that even Luchman could not explain.
There were no evidences of anything like a struggle, and he was sure he would have heard the firing of guns had there been any.
"Helloa! the mischief is to pay again!" exclaimed Harkins.
At the moment this expression was uttered the three had come back to the edge of the jungle. Avery and Luchman looked around to learn the cause of their friend's excitement.
Fully a dozen Ghoojurs were seen coming across the open field toward the spot where the trio were hunting for traces of their friends. The ragged party were straggling along on foot, without regard to any order, but they were abundantly armed with guns, swords, knives, and in one or two instances with spears.
It was impossible to imagine what brought them in that direction, and the fugitives had no time in which to discuss the question. That they were coming straight for them was evident, and unless the Feringhees retreated at once a fight was inevitable.
It would have been folly to wait, and the three, therefore, started back into the jungle, following the same line as the advance of the Ghoojurs themselves. Had our friends taken a second thought probably they would have turned to the right or left. Harkins was indiscreet enough to try to keep an eye on their pursuers while making the withdrawal.
Seeing his error, Luchman called sharply to him to hasten, but at that moment the sportsman was discovered, several of the Ghoojurs uttering shouts and breaking at once into a run toward the jungle.
There could have been little in the way of a race through the dense undergrowth, but the fugitives were following a faintly marked path, which allowed fair progress to the other side of the spur, as it may be called, of the jungle, beyond which lay the open country.
They had no more than fairly started when Harkins, who was at the rear, caught his foot in a wiry vine which threw him forward on his hands and knees. With an impatient exclamation he was instantly on his feet and running harder than ever.
It will be understood that each of the fugitives was capable of high speed. It is doubtful whether Luchman had his superior in all India, while the other two were athletes scarcely his inferiors in fleetness. In a fair race, they would have soon left the Ghoojurs out of sight, but the latter were more accustomed to making their way through such obstacles than the two Europeans, and they had the strongest of all incentives that such miscreants can have in a contest of the kind.
In a few minutes the woods became more open; they were nearing the other side of the spur of the jungle.
"Look out, sahib! they are going to fire!"
At the instant of uttering the warning, Luchman leaped behind a tree and the others did the same.
Several shots cut through the vegetation near them, and the Ghoojurs, seeing that the Feringhees were at bay, checked themselves when but a few rods separated them.
The surgeon saw the call for a little heroic treatment. Observing a dusky ruffian careless about exposing himself, he blazed away with his revolver. The intervening space was so short that he punctured the fellow in the leg, though unfortunately the wound was not severe. With a yell the victim went limping back out of range.
The opportune shot threw the Ghoojurs into a panic, which, however, was quickly over. Almost immediately they began what may be characterized as a double flank movement that was certain to be fatal to the fugitives, unless they resumed their flight without further pause.
The ruffians were not lacking in courage, if it can be called courageous for a dozen armed men to assail one fourth that number. They branched out to the right and left, like a fan, so that by pushing on and closing in they could quickly surround their victims and have them at their mercy.
But the latter did not stand still and allow themselves to be bagged in that fashion. Luchman saw the danger, and called to his friends to take to their heels again. They obeyed, the three making desperate haste toward the open country which was near at hand.
The next minute the fugitives emerged from the jungle into what was once a cultivated field, but which was now covered with a species of short grass burned crisp by the sun. The ground was level, and favorable for pedestrianism.
Our friends could not have asked anything better, and they straightway gave their pursuers an exhibition of speed that must have astonished them.
Harkins was bearing to the right, but was recalled by a word from Luchman, and the three dashed for the other side of the plain, distant about an eighth of a mile.
What was to be done when the boundary should be reached was a serious question, but before attaining it an unexpected refuge presented itself.
India abounds with interesting ruins, temples and caves, which display an exquisite order of architecture of ancient times. In front of the runners appeared a ruined temple, and the guide called out that if they could reach that they would be safe.
The utmost effort was made, and Harkins and the surgeon were sure they never ran so fast in all their lives. Probably their pursuers believed the same, for they steadily dropped behind. Several fired while on the run, but that was practice in which they did not excel, and their shots went wild.
The structure, as seen from a distance, was simply a ruin. It had been a fine building centuries before, but was fallen to pieces so that naught beside the lower portion remained. Several walls, their tops jagged and uneven, rose to a height of twenty or thirty feet, and piles of masonry lay strewn around where they may have been tumbled by fanatic hands or by the elements. Dense shrubbery and a few twisted trees projected from the debris, and their roots, while helping to disintegrate, also helped to hold what was left in position.
The masonry was of a dull gray color, visible for a long way through the emerald vegetation, though a casual glance might well have caused a doubt as to whether it could be made available as a means of defense. In ancient times, the use of a species of sugar in the mortar gave it a degree of hardness which gradually became like that of stone itself.
But there was no time to think of that: it was all that was left to the fugitives, who continued to put forth their utmost efforts. They kept well together until quite near the refuge, when Luchman shot ahead with a swiftness that astonished the others. He bounded through the arched way that had once spanned the entrance as if he were shot from a catapult.
His companions were scarcely behind him, and they rushed in like a couple of contestants on the home-stretch, all quickly pausing, for they were doubtful of what remained beyond.
"Stop, sahibs," shouted Luchman; "they must not come in!"
The native breathed no faster because of his exertion, but the two athletes were panting, though able to do far more had it been necessary. Checking themselves, they turned about to watch the movements of their enemies.
The latter had been thrown far behind, and were coming at a more leisurely gait. The fugitives viewed them through the overhanging branches of a gnarled tree, which grew off to one side from the arched gateway. They saw the Ghoojurs pause at a safe distance and engage in a discussion, most likely as to what course they should follow, in view of the new turn events had taken.
"They are debating whether to make a rush after us or to wait till they can bring up reenforcements," ventured Harkins.
"I can understand the two sides to that question," replied the doctor. "It will not take them long to get all the aid they can want, but the objection to that is that it will make the share of each so much the smaller, when they come to divide the spoil."
Leaving his friends to keep watch, Luchman entered the fort of which they had taken possession, to learn its capabilities in the way of defense. He needed but a short time, and the result was more satisfactory than he expected.
The arched gate or doorway extended backward twenty feet, where it opened into a spacious apartment. The former was several yards in width and eight or ten feet high. The room measured about thirty feet square had a high ceiling and was dimly lit by several small circular windows, similar to those used to light the cells of prisoners. There were three at the rear, but none at the sides, and they, with the tunnel-like passage which admitted the fugitives, gave enough illumination for the occupants to see each other across the apartment.
The roof of this room had been the floor of the tower-like structure which is common to ancient Hindoo ruins. It appeared to be a foot in thickness, and was composed of great blocks of hard, gray stone, united by a cement, spread over and around a net work of massive beams, which rendered them as durable as the rock itself. The walls at the side were equally heavy, and, being joined by the same kind of sugary cement, they were powerful enough to resist for a long time the pounding of large cannon.
A small force could hold an immense one at bay, protected as was the garrison by such powerful defenses. The only question was as to how long a party could stand a siege.
In the case of our friends, this certainly could not be long, for they were not only without food and water, but lacked the means of getting any. All were hungry, and before long would be thirsty.
"We can hold them in check, sahibs, until night," said Luchman, "but if we wait longer than that, they will have us fast."
Though a score of brave men might recoil from an attempt to carry the place by storm, yet the Ghoojurs must have known that they had but to contain their souls in patience for only a brief while. The tempting fruit if left alone will fall to the ground in the fulness of time.
Since the Ghoojurs showed no disposition to make any immediate advance, the guide told his friends that if they wished they could take a survey of the interior, and he would call them when wanted. Thereupon Harkins and the surgeon passed through the gateway, and entered the large apartment.
"If we had several months' provisions and a well of water," observed the sportsman, "we wouldn't care for all the Ghoojurs that could be brought against us. They couldn't batter these walls down in a year, and we would pick them off at our leisure."
"Why speculate upon that which can never be?" asked the doctor, whose spirits were not so elastic as those of his companion; "there is no means of getting food or water, and I am oppressed with a sentiment that here we are to make a final stand."
"That for presentiments," replied Harkins, snapping his fingers; "they all depend on the state of your stomach. I am hungry, but am not bilious, and therefore haven't any presentiments."
"Who shall say whether our dear ones are yet alive?"
"No one, but there is hope," said Harkins, more sympathetically; "the outlook is bad, but no worse than it has been several times before."
"We have been favored in a marked degree, but we must not shut our eyes to what is before us. Hitherto we have had the liberty of movement, but we are now walled in."
"Didn't you hear Luchman say that we must keep them in check until night, when we would leave? What can that signify but that he has fixed upon some feasible scheme?"
"Common sense will not allow me to believe that. There is but one way out, and that is the one by which we entered; and the nights now are almost the same as day."
"Keep a stiff upper lip, doctor, for though I can't explain the plan of the campaign I know he can. Your depression just now is not because of yourself but your absent friends."
"It is, for I am sure Luchman considers their case about hopeless; what do you think, Harkins?"
"I believe they are prisoners."
"That is worse than if they were dead."
Harkins turned his head away and whistled softly: he knew his friend was right.
"You have my profoundest sympathy, doctor, and my life is at your service. If we knew where they were, I would lead in a rush that would end in our death or their safety."
These were brave words, but there could be no doubt of their honesty. There was no risk the sportsman would not have eagerly run for the sake of his new friends. The doctor feelingly thanked him, adding that he was confident he would soon be called upon to verify his pledge.
Their eyes had now become accustomed to the twilight of the room, and they saw distinctly.
"What the mischief isthat?" asked Harkins, pointing toward the further corner, where a large object with some resemblance to a man was visible.
"We can soon find out," replied the doctor, striding across the apartment.
Both laughed, for that which had caught their eye was an idol—one of the hundreds of thousands of deities of India.
It was a grotesque imitation of humanity, with a head resembling an elephant's and as big as the rest of the body, and with a mouth, eyes and nose enough to terrify a beholder. It seemed to have been carved from marble, and still bore traces of the red paint and gilt with which it was once decorated.
"Do you know anything about this gentleman?" asked Harkins, after they had examined the image.
"It is meant for Gungah, the many armed goddess of the Ganges."
"It seems to me that when these people tried to represent a goddess they might have made her better looking. This specimen is enough to give a man the nightmare."
While making these remarks, Harkins placed his hand against the idol and pushed hard enough to move it slightly.
"She don't seem to be very solid on her pins," he said; "over she goes!"
And with a more vigorous shove he sent her crashing to the floor.
"Thus shall tumble the Mogul Empire," said Avery, looking down on the prostrate monster, "and it shall rise nevermore."
"I agree with your sentiments, but wish that the empire would not be so long in falling. I tell you that old England, though thousands of miles away, won't take long to strike, and when she does so, it will be straight from the shoulder and she'll make the bones rattle."
"Yes," assented the surgeon with a glow of patriotic pride, "our whole population is not an eighth of this country's, but we are as much its master as though our army were ten times as big."
Since the two were talking thus familiarly, the doctor, having made a remark, awaited the reply of his friend. But Harkins was as still as the idol had been for hundreds of years.
"What's the matter?" asked Avery in some surprise.
Harkins raised his hand.
"Sh! hark!"
The surgeon did as requested, but was unable to hear anything to justify the action of his friend.
"I say, my boy," remarked Harkins a minute later, "we haven't yet unearthed all the mysteries of this old temple."
"To what do you refer?"
"We are not the only persons in it. While you were speaking a little while ago I heard voices."
"Are you sure of that?"
"There is no doubt about it. The speakers used so much care that I could not catch their words, but the voices themselves, though faint, could not be mistaken."
"Could they not have been the Ghoojurs outside?"
"No, I thought of that; I was standing right here with no dream of such a thing when—there they are again!"
Avery stepped forward and pressed his ear against the wall beyond which it was evident the strangers must be. The next minute he whispered:
"You are right, Harkins; there are other persons in this temple."
Each now touched his ear to the wall, which was a better conductor of sound than the air. As a result, both heard persons talking. They did not speak continuously, and modulated their words so that it was impossible to catch their meaning.
It was quite clear, however, that the strangers on the other side were aware that some kind of danger threatened them, for they used the utmost care. It looked as though they had entered an unsuspected apartment adjoining the one in which the three fugitives took refuge when fleeing from the Ghoojurs, and they were at that moment discussing their situation.
"Now, who can they be?" asked Harkins; "I am inclined to suspect they are Ghoojurs, who have found some secret way into this temple."
"More likely they are refugees like ourselves,—some poor people who have known of the temple, and imagine they have a good hiding place from the mutineers."
"We must learn the truth as soon as we can."
In the hope of finding some spot in the wall where they could hear more distinctly, the surgeon began groping along its face with his hands. He could not see clearly enough in the dim light to discern small objects.
"Helloa! here's something!" he exclaimed, in the same guarded voice.
"What is it?" asked his companion.
"It feels like the knob of a door."
"Maybe it's a door bell; give it a pull and see whether the people are receiving calls," said Harkins, whose high spirits could not always be repressed even in the most critical moments.
"Here is a door——-"
"Good by," called the sportsman, as he saw his friend pass through an opening that suddenly presented itself.
Drawing the handle to one side the door slid to the left, and Avery advanced a couple of steps into a smaller room. Then, fearful of a volley from the strangers, he quickly drew back beside Harkins.
"Did you see anybody?" asked the latter.
"No; I didn't dare wait; there seems to be about as much light in that apartment as there is in this."
Both were quiet, and the next minute whispers were heard, followed by the cautious movement of feet.
"Be careful," whispered Harkins; "there are more wonders in the ruins than are dreamt of in our philosophy; there's deviltry afoot, and we'll get a shot before you know it."
"Baird, Baird, is that you?"
The soft voice came from within the smaller apartment. It was low, but its music had charmed Avery many a time. He sprang forward into the room.
"Good heavens! it is Marian!"
She advanced hastily through the twilight, and was clasped in his arms. As Harkins entered, the missionary and his wife came forward and shook his hand.
Suffering and danger drew all near together in this trying hour, and the man whom they had never heard of until within a few days was as dear to all as though his brave devotion had been attested by years of service.
As may be supposed, Mr. Hildreth had an interesting story to tell.
That morning their guide, Luchman, had been gone but a short time, when they were frightened by the appearance of a man who seemed to be a Brahmin fakir. He surprised the fugitives by showing an extraordinary knowledge of every one of them. He said he knew they were fleeing from Delhi to Kurnal, and that a large party of Ghoojurs were hunting for them, believing they carried much riches. Still further, they were aware of the precise part of the jungle where the Feringhees had taken refuge, and would soon come to rob and kill them.
Remarkable as was this statement, Mr. Hildreth believed it, mainly because of the intimate knowledge the fakir showed of his affairs. The Brahmin added that he had received so many kindnesses from the missionaries that he was anxious to befriend them, but the circumstances—as could be readily seen—were such that he could do so only in an indirect manner. He informed them that there was but the one course by which they could save their lives: that was to hasten at once to the sacred temple, dedicated to the worship of Gungah, the goddess of the Ganges who came to restore to King Suguin the sixty thousand sons that had been reduced to ashes. The fakir insisted that though this temple was in ruins, it would not be profaned by any of the roving Ghoojurs, even if they learned the party had taken refuge there.
This theology was altogether different from what Mr. Hildreth had heard since living in India, but he decided to leave the jungle, much as he would have preferred to await the return of Luchman. His anxiety to get away was deepened by several suspicious movements on the part of natives at a distance.
All being in native costume, they were not likely to attract notice when in the company of the fakir, whom they followed across the open plain to the temple, where he left them just as day began breaking. He promised to acquaint Luchman with what he had done, and to be back at the end of an hour.
The missionary feared he had committed a serious indiscretion, but the intense mental strain to which he had been subjected during the past few days no doubt affected his power of judgment.
But the family were no sooner left alone than they disposed of themselves in the most comfortable positions, and fell into a sound slumber which lasted until they heard noises in the adjoining room. It was while they were talking about it that Harkins overheard them, and the discovery followed that all were in the same building, or figuratively speaking in the "same boat."
This was an extraordinary narrative indeed, and the identity of the native who played the part of Brahmin fakir was a source of profound wonder.
Since no one ever could guess, Dr. Avery went outside to where Luchman was on guard, told the story to him and asked his opinion.
The converted Hindoo was never so dumfounded in all his life. He was overjoyed to find that his friends were in the building, but he did not hesitate to say that the missionary had been imposed upon.
"Tell me, sahib, how this fakir looks," said he.
"I did not hear any description of him. I will bring Mr. Hildreth, and he will answer your questions."
"That will be well, sahib; I think I know the fakir."
Mr. Hildreth warmly greeted the guide as he came forth, and the two looked cautiously out over the plain to see if there was any danger of immediate attack from the Ghoojurs. Luchman said there was none, and the two then began talking about the fakir in whom all felt much interest.
"This seems to be a land of mystery," said the surgeon to himself: "and here is one of them."
To the disgust of the young physician, at the moment the conversation grew more interesting, the two dropped into Hindustani, and all that he had learned during his several years' residence in Calcutta did not suffice to afford him an inkling of the meaning of a single sentence.
Avery believed that the reverend gentleman gave information to Luchman which he withheld from the others. The expression on the faces of both showed they felt unusual interest in the question. The native told the missionary who he believed the bogus fakir was, and shortly after Mr. Hildreth walked back through the archway to his family and friends.
Finding himself alone with the guide, Dr. Avery asked:
"What have the Ghoojurs done since we left you?"
"Nothing, sahib; they have been talking together and have moved backward and forward. But there they are, sahib, the same as when you went inside."
Avery looked out and of course saw that things were as stated by the native. The dozen brigands who showed such annoying interest in them formed an irregular group, some of whom were lolling on the ground, in the fervid rays of the sun, while others stood near each other discussing questions in which they were interested, the all important one being as to the best means of dislodging the Feringhees from the ruins of the temple.
While the surgeon was studying the ruffians, he observed a Ghoojur riding toward them. He came from a direction which shut him from view until close at hand. The two sentinels, as they may be called, walked to the entrance of the archway, where they scrutinized the men with the closest attention.
The horseman halted when he reached the squad of brigands, and talked several minutes with them. Then he wheeled his horse around, and rode on a walk toward the ruined temple.
Coming into clearer view, it was seen that he was dressed better than any of the others, and no doubt was their leader. He wore a massive turban, from which descended a graceful scarf of embroidered muslin, and carried a beautifully ornamented sword at his side. His animal was a small pony of high blood, jet black in color, and was caparisoned as gayly as the steed of a Rajah.
It struck Avery that he approached dangerously close before he drew up and took a survey of the temple, as though it was entirely new to him. His sallow face, with the sunken and lustrous eyes, the beak-like nose, and the long coarse mustache curling downward, were so distinctly seen by the doctor that he was sure he could never forget them.
Luchman showed a deep interest in the ruffian, and he drew Avery back a few steps as a precaution against treachery.
"You will remember him, sahib?" he asked, in a low voice.
"As long as I live! Who is he?"
"He is the Brahmin fakir who brought the missionary and his family to this temple; I know his name, sahib."
"What is it?"
"Wana Affghar of Puneput. He is the Ghoojur chieftain who has hunted me so long, because of the Star of India which I carry; he feels sure of me now; he has tracked me better than I believed he could do."
There was an alarming significance in the declaration of the native guide that the horseman at the head of the Ghoojurs who were besieging the fugitives in the ruined temple was Wana Affghar of Puneput.
He was the brigand who by some means had learned that Luchman was the possessor of the great diamond, the Star of India, and who for a year had been trying to secure the wonderful gem, without regard to the means employed. Either suspecting or knowing of a certainty that the daring Christian carried it about his person, he had guided his movements in accordance with that fact.
He had hired detectives, as they may be called, to follow the footsteps of Luchman, their instructions being not to kill him but to lead him into some situation that would place him in the power of the Ghoojur chieftain. The latter was handicapped by the impossibility of fully trusting his employees. If one of them should slay Luchman and take the diamond from him, the assassin would be sure to keep the jewel himself.
Accordingly Wana gave out that he wished to "habeas corpus" the body of the Hindoo proselyte for an unpardonable crime committed against him. The emissaries of the brigand were not permitted to know the fortune Luchman carried, and they directed all their attempts, therefore, toward persuading him to venture outside of the large cities, where the vigilant Wana Affghar could seize him.
This task, however, was impossible of accomplishment, because the native was certain to suspect the meaning of such a proposal, no matter how cautiously made; but he underestimated the ability of these birds of prey. At the very time he thought they were thrown off the scent, he was under their surveillance. The outbreak in Delhi led him to move northward with the Europeans, which was in the direction of the chieftain's regular tramping ground.
Everything united to aid Wana. The delay was long enough to allow him to perfect his plans. It was necessary to placate his men, which he did by promising to turn over to them all of the Feringhees, with whatever loot they might have in their possession. He only demanded the body of the native, thus parrying all suspicion of his avarice, which was his sole governing motive.
Without saying more, the reader will comprehend the situation as it was developed to Wana Affghar of Puneput, to Luchman, and to Dr. Baird Avery.
The rest of the fugitives knew nothing of these particulars, and the guide showed no wish to enlighten them.
Luchman admitted that he had been outwitted by the chieftain, but a curious expression lit up his olive face as he muttered,
"He hasn't got the Star of India yet."
There was an unsuspected meaning in this declaration, which Dr. Avery recalled after many days, though he was far from suspecting it at the time the sentence was uttered. He forebore to question his friend, who had a way of telling without solicitation that which he wished to make known.
During the conference Harkins was in the rear apartment with the missionary and his family. The Ghoojurs showed no purpose of an immediate attack, for they must have seen that it could accomplish nothing. The doctor and the guide were speaking about the probable course of the ruffians when Harkins joined them with a welcome message.
The generous breakfast that Luchman had brought to the fugitives in the jungle was still in their possession. There were the lota of water and the fruit and bread obtained at a native hut. With these too was a supply of cooked dall or grain.
This was a godsend, for it gave to the little garrison the power to hold out against their enemies, if necessary, for several days. Avery and Harkins went within, and a careful division of the food was made so as to give all a substantial lunch, which was to last till the following morning. On the morrow, the rest would be eaten, and it was calculated that three days could be passed in the prison without inconvenience in the way of food. It was not the latter, however, that was so sorely needed as was water. In such a hot climate, the demand for the life giving fluid must be far greater than in a temperate or cold region, and their supply was so light that it was necessary to be rigidly economical from the first.
The share set apart for Luchman being carried out to him by Dr. Avery, the guide told his friend to take it back and keep it until he asked for it. The astonished gentleman did as requested, remarking that Luchman was not likely to be troubled with hunger or thirst for several months to come.
When Avery and Harkins returned once more to the front they saw that something was up. Wana Affghar, having ridden close to the archway, sat for several minutes in the attitude of one who was posing for his picture. Suddenly he dashed off, galloped around in a circle and came back to his position.
Catching sight of Luchman, he raised his hand and beckoned for him to approach. He repeated the gesture several times, but the guide paid no attention to it. Then Wana spoke, the distance being so brief that a conversational tone was sufficient.
Luchman translated the words to his interested friends. The Ghoojur asking Luchman to come out and talk with him, the latter replied that it was not necessary, since they could converse in their present positions. Wana said that his words were of such importance that no one else must hear them, to which the guide made answer that that requirement could be easily met by the use of Hindustani.
To this remark came the astounding declaration on the part of Wana that he knew one of the Feringhees had been engaged for some time in Calcutta studying the native language.
"How in the name of the seven wonders does he know anything about me?" asked the amazed surgeon; "true, I did try to master this barbarous speech, but the intervals between the lessons were so long that I regularly forgot all I had learned, and I can't hold the briefest conversation, if my life were depending upon it."
"He has seen you, sahib, and knows you."
"He is a shrewder rascal than I imagined; but I can overcome his scruples by withdrawing beyond hearing."
"Though you may be out of sight, sahib, he will believe you are listening."
Wana Affghar insisted, but Luchman in refusing did not hesitate to say that he was such a villain that he would not trust him.
Showing no offense because of the insult, the brigand repeated that he had a communication which was one of life and death, and which must be heard by the ears of Luchman alone. But inasmuch as Luchman would not listen to him he would send Buktar Sing, his intimate friend, to impart the important message.
The guide assured Wana that such a proceeding was useless, since one of them was as bad as the other. But the chieftain galloped back, describing several fanciful circles on the way, as if seeking to display his horsemanship.
He was seen to converse with his friends a short time, and then one of them walked forth toward the temple. He advanced with a firm step, while he fixed his black eyes upon the native standing in the archway.
"Luchman," said Avery, "I advise you to go out and talk with that fellow."
"He is a cobra, waiting a chance to strike."
"We can fix that," said Harkins; "we'll keep you both covered with our guns, and at the first sign of treachery well let this beautiful sunlight of India beam through his body. Doctor, run inside and get Mr. Hildreth's gun."
"I will do as the sahibs wish," replied Luchman, who felt some curiosity to test the matter.
Avery hurried back with the weapon of the missionary. By this time the Ghoojur had reached the spot where the leader had halted a few minutes before. He stopped and looked sharply at Luchman.
"What do you want?" asked the latter.
"I have something to say to you for my chief, Wana Affghar; will you come forth to hear it?"
"I will if you are honest; have you any weapons with you?"
"None," was the prompt answer, as the ruffian threw up both hands to show they contained nothing.
"I'll stake my life that, all the same, he has a weapon hidden in his garments," said Harkins; "take your knife with you, Luchman."
The guide accepted the advice. He turned partly away from the messenger, making a display of handing over his pistol that was sure to be noticed by the Ghoojur. At the same time, he slipped his sharp knife under his clothing where it was out of sight, but could be drawn the instant needed.
"Bear in mind," added Harkins, as their friend left them, "that we'll never take our eyes off you, and if they try any trick we'll make music for them."
Buktar Sing, the messenger of Wana Affghar, of Puneput, calmly awaited the approach of Luchman, who advanced with a certain dignity that seemed to mark all his movements.
At the moment of joining the messenger, Luchman made a discovery which caused him some uneasiness, and which he wondered he had not made before.
Less than twenty yards distant was a depression in the ground, running at right angles to the course he took in leaving the temple. Since they must have crossed it in their flight to the ruins, it would seem that he ought to have noticed it. That he failed to do so was probably due to the haste with which he and his companions fled to the refuge.
Water had probably flowed through it quite recently, for it contained grass of a green color, while that around it was burnt brown and dry. In short it was just the place for a foe to hide himself during the interview about to take place.
Luchman was the first to speak.
"What tidings do you bring that Wana Affghar asks me to leave my friends that they may not hear it?"
Buktar Sing answered,
"Wana tells me to urge you to surrender, since it is the only thing that will save the lives of yourself and the Feringhees with you."
"Why is that?"
"You see the large numbers we have; we can kill you all whenever Wana gives the word."
"Why does he hesitate?"
"Wana Affghar is merciful, and he will not do so until you refuse the offer I bring you."
"If I surrender, what then?"
"Wana asks as a condition that you shall yield to him a diamond that you have stolen."
"And if I do, what then?"
"He will spare your lives, and give you safe escort to Kurnal, whither you are traveling from Delhi."
Could Luchman of a certainty have known that this offer was honest and would be carried out, he would have accepted it. The Star of India was a treasure almost beyond price, and would have been an extravagant ransom for a king or emperor, but it was not so valuable as one's own life.
Luchman held to a great degree the doctrine of Kismet or fatalism, which he had been taught in his early youth, and, believing that his hour for dying had been unalterably fixed by destiny, he was not concerned for himself. But the Christians had been differently taught, and he felt that somehow or other another law governed them.
But he could not have the slightest faith in the honor of Wana Affghar. Like the perfidious Nana Sahib (as was afterwards shown), he would deliberately violate the most solemn oath that a Mohammedan or Hindoo could take upon himself. Let him but once lay hold of the diamond, and he would turn loose his fiends upon the fugitives.
"How can I know that your chieftain will keep his word?" asked Luchman, as though impressed by the offer.
"The word of Wana Affghar has never been broken," was the overwhelming falsehood of Buktar Sing.
"Ram! Ram! japana Paraya mal apana!" (He repeats the name of the god Ram and then calls other people's property his own), said Luchman, uttering a common saying of his people. "I will not accept the offer without a guarantee that cannot be broken."
"Name such guarantee."
"He must accept my pledge; I am a Christian who thinks more of his promise than his life; he is a follower of Ram and will lie. I will agree that if he will withdraw his men and give the Feringhees a long start, and will not molest them nor allow any one else to do so, I will hand to him the diamond he covets."
This proposition gave a new phase to the negotiation, and Buktar Sing saw that he would have to consult his principal before accepting or rejecting the conditions.
Saying as much, he saluted and turned to rejoin his friends, the words and manner of Buktar Sing having disarmed all suspicion.
All through the interview, Dr. Avery and George Harkins stood with loaded guns and eyes fixed upon the two, both convinced that treachery was intended. Their close scrutiny led them to detect the ditch-like depression in the plain, which had escaped the notice of Luchman until then. Its location, as we have said, was shown by the fringe of green, where the over abundant moisture had kept the grass from drying up.
The discovery confirmed the belief that foul play would be seen.
"The interview is ended," said Harkins, at the moment their guide saluted Buktar Sing and turned his face away.
"Yes—and do you see that?"
The dark line of grass was agitated just beyond Luchman as he approached the temple. The stirring of the grass was of a nature to show that it was caused by some person. The sentinels brought their guns to their shoulders.
At the moment of doing so, two hideous looking heads rose in sight, followed by the shoulders and bodies of the Ghoojurs, who stole as noiselessly as phantoms out upon the level plain and hurried after the guide.
"I'll take the one nearest Luchman," whispered Harkins, "and you the other; don't miss."
Although the murderers made no noise, yet Luchman, looking toward his friends, saw them raise weapons, and he knew what it meant.
Like a flash he whirled about, and, whipping out his long knife, confronted the two assassins.
One of them held a similar weapon and the other a long pistol, the second being closer than his companion to Luchman. They stopped, but only for a moment. The Ghoojur with the firearm raised it, while the other began a cautious circling to one side, with the purpose of getting behind Luchman.
At this junction Dr. Avery and Harkins let fly. The distance was short; the rifles were well aimed.
Further particulars are not required.
Luchman looked off to where Wana Affghar was seated on his black pony, intently watching proceedings, and circling his knife over his head. As his two followers fell, he uttered a defiant shout.
It seemed as if the infuriated chieftain was about to charge upon the fugitives with all his men; but, if he meant to do so, he changed his mind.
Several of the Ghoojurs, however, fired their guns, and the bullets were heard pattering among the leaves and flattening themselves against the walls of the temple. None came near the defenders.
The missionary and his wife and daughter came forth just as the two young men fired with such effect. Luchman, relieved of all immediate danger, sauntered back through the archway with the same dignity that he showed when leaving it. All congratulated him on his escape. He in turn thanked Avery and Harkins for their timely shots that saved him from an encounter in which, to say the least, the chances were against him.
Avery and Harkins lost no time in reloading their weapons. Luchman said they were safe from any molestation until nightfall; and, as the young men were in need of rest, they passed back into the larger apartment and lay down on the hard flinty floor. Marian and her mother, though not in such need of repose, went into the smaller room, leaving the missionary with Luchman. The two talked in low tones for a long time, the missionary finally withdrawing, so that the native at last was left alone.
Luchman did not need to be told, after what had taken place, that no mercy would be shown to him and those under his care, and he did not expect any attempt to resume the negotiations.
In the course of the afternoon he discovered that three of the Ghoojurs were stealing along the depression in the plain. He suspected their business, but offered no objection. When close to where the stark bodies of their former companions lay, they sprang up and rushed out to them. Luchman could have picked them off with the rifles of his companions which had been left with him, but he had no wish to do so, and he suffered them to bear off their ghastly burden without hindrance from him.
The brigands appeared to grow weary of lolling in the sun, and withdrew to the shade of some trees, where they disposed of themselves in a more comfortable fashion. Possibly they hoped by this withdrawal to tempt the Feringhees far enough from the temple to give a chance for cutting them off, but Luchman had no thought of any such venture.
Since no rain falls during the month of May in northern India, it may be wondered what grounds Luchman could have for hope of the final escape of his friends. The night was well lit up by the bright moon, so that, except for the slight decrease in temperature, it was no more favorable for flight than the day. But within the bronzed skull of the Hindoo a busy brain was at work, and was sure to conjure up some scheme, desperate though it might be.
When night began closing in, there was little change. The brigands were still among the trees, but several came out and ventured closer to the temple, though they took good care to keep beyond reach of the two deadly rifles.
A slight noise caused Luchman to turn his head. Avery and Harkins were at his elbow.
"Now, Luchman," said the latter, "we have had a good rest, and it is your turn to go inside and get some sleep while you have the chance."
The native shook his head.
"I want no sleep, sahibs; I shall take none tonight."
"But you may have to keep awake for several weeks or months," persisted Harkins.
Luchman was as incapable as an American Indian of grasping a jest, and he replied, in all seriousness:
"I will try to get sleep before waiting so long, sahib."
"I don't believe he needs any rest," said the surgeon; "I doubt whether he will feel the least inconvenience if he has no food, water, or sleep for a week to come. He is the most remarkable specimen of what the human system can stand that I ever saw. Do as you think best, Luchman, but Harkins and I have come out to relieve you for a while; will you allow us to do it?"
"After a time, sahibs; when the night is fully come you may look out."
"What do you mean to do?"
"Wait, sahib, and you will see."
"I shouldn't be surprised if we did," laughed Harkins.
The moon was so bright that before any one suspected the short twilight had merged into the night.
The gnarled trees at the entrance to the gateway threw their heavy shadows across the ground in front, while the abundant vegetation cast numerous patches of darkness around the picturesque ruins. These standing in an open plain, with a large stream of water some two hundred yards to the rear, the jungle being further from the front, it will be seen that it was beyond the power of any one to steal away from the temple without certain detection by the watchful Ghoojurs.
Such being the situation, the fugitives might well despair of escape without help from the outside, and such help was among the human impossibilities.
Luchman noticed one fact: the Ghoojurs had received no re-enforcements. This only proved that they did not wish any; they were confident they had enough to do the work before them. Wana Affghar must have convinced his men that they would soon have an abundance of loot to divide.
Figures could be seen moving over the plain, and, as a matter of course, the ruffians were guarding every point, despite which Luchman declared that he intended to leave the temple and find out whether there was any opening for an attempt to get away. His entrance into the ruined building was so hurried that he had no time to acquaint himself with the surroundings, and he thought the time had now come to do so.
He feared there might be some rear entrance to the temple, by which their foes would steal a march on them. The only way of satisfying himself on this point was by an examination of the exterior.
"I am going, sahibs," he quietly remarked a few minutes later, "and you will not forget to keep close watch while I am away."
They assured him that he need have no fears in that respect.
A minute later he had vanished.
This was comparatively an easy task, for, instead of venturing out upon the moonlit plain, he clambered up the shaded archway, where he could not be seen from the outside. His friends saw him make a leap upward, catch hold of the stone above his head, his long legs beating the air for a moment, and then he was gone.
"There are some things which cannot be done," remarked Harkins, "and I have a fear that he means to try them. If he undertakes to get down the stream or to the jungle or ventures away from the ruins at all, he will lose his life. Wana Affghar would like nothing better than to have him make such an attempt."
"He will take no advice from us, and perhaps it is as well that he will not; but he is a shrewd fellow, and I have great faith in him."
"I wonder what scheme he has in his head."
"He has formed some plan, and he wants to see whether it will do to try it."
The two began pacing back and forth through the arched passage, alternating in such a way that one was always facing outward. This was continued for a half hour, during which the stillness of the tomb reigned about them. At the end of that time the sound of voices from within showed that the ladies had come into the larger room, where the missionary was talking to them.
"Now, see here, doctor," said the good hearted Harkins, "there is no need of both of us staying here; I would rather station myself at the open end of this passage where I can see and hear anything going on, while you withdraw and spend an hour or two with your friends. Miss Hildreth is dying to have the chance, which this flurry has prevented her having until now. I had a chat with her some time ago, and found her charming, but all the time I saw that she wanted you and not me."
"No such thing; she is delighted with you, and sounded your praises so extravagantly that I am becoming jealous."
"No need of that! Besides, my dear boy, I have a blue eyed lassie in far away England who has pre-empted all the heart and affections of the undersigned. Darling Jennie," murmured the big, handsome fellow, with just the slightest tremor in his voice; "I wonder whether you will ever see your good for nothing George again. He is not of much account, but all the same, if the ship never brings him back to you, there will be another breaking heart in Albion."
Both were silent for a few seconds, these being the first sentimental words that Harkins had uttered in the presence of his companion, who was drawn closer by those sweet musings which only added fuller glory to his manhood.
Rousing up, Harkins took hold of Avery's arms and faced him toward the interior.
"Off with you, and stay till I call you. I will keep faithful ward and watch, even though my fancies wander thousands of miles away to a certain vine clad cottage in old England."
And the fellow, happy even in his sadness, looked out upon the moonlit plain and hummed "Annie Laurie," as Dr. Avery, full of love for his splendid friend, sauntered back to that other dearer one, who, as Harkins said, looked so longingly for his coming.
Within the larger room it was quite dark. The overturned idol afforded a bench upon which Mr. Hildreth, his wife and daughter were seated. There was room for the doctor, who, guided by the voices, placed himself near Marian and imprisoned her hand, while the low murmured conversation went on.
Avery related what had taken place at the entrance to the temple. Luchman had stolen out on an expedition of his own, while Harkins was acting the part of sentinel.
"I think the same as Harkins," said the missionary, "that Luchman is trying to do that which cannot be done. Not even a mouse could get out of here without being seen by the Ghoojurs."
"I hardly think he expects to leave, but to gain a better knowledge of our surroundings."
"Were only himself concerned he would have little trouble in hoodwinking the ruffians; but he cannot do so to the extent of delivering us."
"If we fail to get away to-night, what hope is there for us?"
The question was asked by Marian, and her betrothed pressed her hand as he made answer:
"That might have been asked a dozen times within the past few days, and the reply would have been the same as now."
"Avery speaks the truth," said the missionary impressively; "everything looks dark, but Heaven's mercy cannot be gauged by us; we can only trust the Hand that has sustained us so long."
"God's mercies shall endure forever," added the wife, in a voice which fell like a benison upon the hearers.
Unto all there seemed to come a sweet assurance that the wrath of the heathen should be turned to naught, broken suddenly by a slight noise from the entrance to the temple.
Slight as it was, all heard it, though no one could tell its nature. They listened, but it was not repeated and the stillness continued.
"I will find out what it means," said Avery, rising from his seat on the idol and moving out toward the moonlit passage way.
The first object on which his eye rested was the figure of Harkins seated on the ground well out toward the opening. He appeared to be leaning against the side wall and looking off where the Ghoojurs had been seen during the day.
"Helloa, Harkins," called the surgeon in a guarded voice, "what was the meaning of that noise a few minutes ago? Anything up?"
The man made no reply, nor did he move.
"I say, old fellow," added Avery, stepping still closer and speaking in a louder voice, "what's going on?"
Still the sentinel was motionless and silent.
Dr. Avery laughed softly to himself.
"Asleep, as sure as I live! That's the best joke on Harkins; how we shall all laugh at him! You're a fine sentinel, ain't you?"
Grasping his shoulder he shook him vigorously.
"Wake up, old boy! Arouse, the house is on fire! Don't you hear me, Harkins—my God!"
George Harkins was stone dead. It was Death that was acting the role of sentinel.