THE AIR PATROL (continued 6)

"Very well then. If you see about altering the breastwork I'll get the gun dragged in. And there are these poor wounded wretches. Their moans are horrible. What can we do for them?"

"We mustn't take them into our compound. We haven't food enough to support prisoners. I have it! We'll send off the Kalmuck prisoners we've got, and tell them that they can bring up a dozen of their friends under flag of truce to carry off their wounded. That'll relieve us of all responsibility. And now let's get to business. We haven't too much time."

These arrangements were duly carried out. While Lawrence escorted the gun to the mine, Bob set the men to pull down the breastwork, and re-construct it so that it stood almost perpendicular to his own entrenchment a hundred yards up stream. In its new position it would be of very little use to the enemy should they re-capture it, for on whichever side of it they happened to be, they would be swept by the fire of the men posted at the other.

By the time the work was completed darkness had fallen. Then Lawrence dismissed the Kalmuck prisoners as he had suggested, and followed them to the breastwork to have a final consultation with his brother.

"I'll hold on here until midnight," said Bob. "I had a good sleep during the day. Tell Ganda Singh to train the captured gun on the bend; if there's an attack he and Gur Buksh can play on the track and cover our retirement."

"I'm not sure whether it wouldn't be better to bring it out again and place it behind our entrenchments."

"No, that would never do. The searchlight isn't powerful enough to be of much good; and the position might be rushed before the gun could come into play. It's too valuable for us to risk that. It would be a very different matter if we had enough men to hold the breastwork and really dispute the advance of the enemy. We can't do that. If they seriously push their attack we shall have to evacuate the position and bolt for the mine, and the gun would only be a hindrance. Now you get back. Send over some food for us, and then go to bed."

"I shan't take my clothes off. Don't hold on too long, Bob, if they do come up."

"Don't be nervous, young 'un. We've had uncommon good luck so far, and I'm inclined to think the enemy won't be in a hurry to tackle us. Those bombs must have been a horrid surprise to them. We may congratulate ourselves on a good day for the first, anyhow."

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FOURTH

A CHECK

The night passed undisturbed. Bob was almost sorry. As the slow hours crept towards midnight, when Lawrence would relieve him, he would have welcomed an opportunity for action. It was bitter cold. He dared not kindle a watch-fire, and so enlighten the enemy about his arrangements. Remembering Lawrence's similar vigil forty miles down, he said to himself: "The kid's a good plucked one. He'd have made a first-rate soldier, or political officer, or anything. Pity we're both so hard up!"

Suddenly he bethought himself of the mass of ore which had been tumbled into the cavity in the bank just above the Pathan miners' compound. It must weigh many tons, and according to Mr. Appleton's calculations, sixty per cent. of it was pure silver. Bob did not know the market price of the metal, but the quantity that had been mined must represent a considerable sum of money. The exciting incidents of the last few days had kept his thoughts engrossed with strategy and tactics; and the notion that the mine was itself a valuable property, worth defending for its own sake, came almost with a shock of surprise.

"Who is the owner now?" he thought. "Did Uncle leave a will? I suppose we are his heirs, but what's the law of inheritance in these parts?"

And then the recollection of his uncle's recent death caused a revulsion of feeling. It was quite unreasonable to shrink from the thought of benefiting by Mr. Appleton's decease; but affection and high-minded instinct sometimes get the better of reason, and he dismissed the subject, still with a vague hope that his uncle would even yet return to his own.

At midnight Lawrence came with a squad of men to relieve him.

"All's well then?" he said.

"Yes; I haven't heard a murmur."

"Well, cut off and get a sleep. I'm good for a spell till daylight. Shan Tai has given me a splendid feed. We're lucky in our men, Bob. As I was eating I overheard Shan Tai talking with Chunda Beg. 'What you tinkee?' says Shan Tai. They'd evidently been discussing the situation. 'I say not one of the dogs will ever poke his nose within our walls,' said the khansaman. 'When the huzur told me that two boys were coming to live here I was sick in mind. Some of the Feringhi boys call us niggers, and speak to us as if we were mud. Our sahibs are not so. They do not sniff and curse and use us as if we were beasts and not men. What say you, cook man?' 'Say what you say allo lighto,' says Shan Tai. 'Likee young massa plenty muchee. Big lot fightee men come all-same. No can fightee big lot long time.' 'Wah!' says Chunda. 'The two sahibs are worth thousands of those dogs of Kalmucks, and if Allah keeps them alive we shall smite and smite until the Sirkar sends help. Only give them good food, cook man.' 'Makee chow-chow first-chop,' says Shan Tai, and the old chap gave a chuckle. He's a jolly good sort."

Lawrence had said that they were lucky in their men; it did not occur to him that the fragment of conversation he reported showed rather that the men thought themselves lucky in their masters.

The day broke, and still the enemy had made no movement. As soon as it was light Bob had the field gun dragged over the bridge to the breastwork. Lawrence reported that the enemy had begun to erect a new rampart some distance down the track.

"They surely don't imagine that we're going to take the offensive," he said.

"No. It probably means that they'll snipe at us from behind it. Go and get your breakfast and come back as soon as you can."

Bob considered whether to interfere with the enemy's work, but decided that he had better husband his ammunition. Some two hours later, after Lawrence's return, the enemy began firing across their new breastwork. At the same time a number of them were seen skirmishing along the track, making short rushes from rock to rock. The track itself was only thirty or forty feet wide, straight and comparatively smooth. But the cliff face was very rugged, affording a certain amount of cover. Skirmishing from point to point, where the cliff jutted out or receded, or where single fragments of rock had fallen to the side of the track, the enemy advanced under cover of the fire from their breastwork until they had come about halfway to the position of the defenders. Some scrambled up the cliff here and there for a few yards so as to obtain a better view of the men sheltered by the entrenchment. Bob refused to allow his men to make a general reply to their fire. He knew that they could not approach beyond a certain point, the track being open and the amount of cover diminishing as they drew nearer. Now and then, when one of them advanced too far ahead of his fellows, he permitted the best marksman to try his skill, and two or three of the enemy were hit. One of his own men also, incautiously exposing himself, fell back with a gash in his arm. Except for this, the day passed without casualties, and the relative positions of the two parties were the same.

The garrison were greatly delighted that the end of the second day found the situation unaltered. Only five days of the critical week remained, and some of them already saw themselves at the end of their probation. Bob hinted that they were not yet out of the wood, but he was glad enough to see how high-spirited and confident they were. For his own part, he relaxed nothing of his care and vigilance. He was still on his guard against a night attack, and as an extra precaution, he sent two of the Sikhs to creep in the darkness along the track between the enemy's breastwork and his own, to give instant warning if they should see or hear any signs of movement.

But the peace of the night remained unbroken. During the early part of the next day, even, there was no sniping or skirmishing as before. Bob augured ill of this inactivity. He would have been more at ease if the enemy had pursued their ineffective tactics, and would indeed have welcomed a rush, which he felt himself able to repel. He could not but believe that they were gathering their strength, perhaps waiting for the support of more artillery, and he had an instinctive dread that the next assault would be a much more formidable affair.

Soon after noon his prescience was rudely justified. Suddenly, without any warning, two guns opened fire from the enemy's breastwork. Lawrence at once offered to set off in the aeroplane and repeat his work with the bombs; but Bob would not allow it, partly because of the scarcity of petrol and dynamite, partly from a fear that the enemy, now better prepared, would have detailed a certain number specially to aim at the aeroplane in flight. The airmen might not escape a second time with a slight flesh wound.

The fight resolved itself into a short artillery duel. The enemy's first shell flew high, striking the cliff above the cantilever gangway, and bespattering the sheds and the compounds with fragments of rock. Ganda Singh proved a better marksman. He planted a shell on the enemy's breastwork between the two guns; splinters of rock flew all around, and for a time there was no more firing. Presently, however, it was resumed, apparently from one gun only, and Bob hoped that the other had been put out of action. But in a few minutes both the weapons were at work, and the gunners' practice improved. Two or three shells struck the garrison's barricade, and though no breach was made, part of the parapet was blown away, and splintered rock flew in all directions, dealing severe wounds among the men behind. Ganda Singh worked his gun with imperturbable calm, and Gur Buksh from the compound sent a rain of bullets from the machine gun along the track. Bob saw, however, that he would soon be forced to withdraw the field gun for lack of ammunition. He had only captured twenty rounds with it, and after half these had been expended, with much damage to the enemy's breastwork, he decided that he must reserve the rest for use in the compound, when the enemy should attempt to force a passage round the bend.

Signalling therefore to Gur Buksh to keep up a hot fire, he ordered four of the men to run the field gun back to the mine. The rest he withdrew a few yards from the breastwork, posting them close against the cliff out of the direct course of the enemy's shells, which were now working havoc on his rough defences. But finding it impossible there to observe what the enemy were doing, he ordered two men to run back to the breastwork, lie down until the guns had fired, and then spring up and observe the enemy's movements through the gaps. They soon reported that skirmishers were again cautiously advancing along the track. Presently the bombardment redoubled in vigour, and immediately afterwards the scouts cried out that a large body of the enemy was charging. The guns ceased fire; at the short range the trajectory was so flat that the gunners could scarcely aim at the breastwork without hitting their own men.

"Now, boys!" cried Bob, unconsciously addressing them as if they were Tommies, "after me!"

He led them back to their former position. They spread out along the breastwork and opened fire. Bob saw a mass of two or three hundred Kalmucks streaming without any sort of order along the track, while the skirmishers who had occupied the rocks above were firing as fast as they could load.

"Take your time!" he cried. "There's no need to hurry."

The first volleys were nevertheless somewhat ragged. The nerves of the Pathans, unaccustomed to the shattering effect of high explosive shells bursting within a few yards of them, were shaken; only Ganda Singh and the three other Sikhs he had with him were calm as disciplined soldiers ought to be. It was their rifles that took toll of the advancing enemy. Several of these dropped; the rest came on yelling fiercely. Bob ordered his men to fire independently. The steadiness of the Sikhs had its effect on the Pathans, who rested their rifles in holes and crevices of the breastwork and took deliberate aim.

The head of the charging column was now within two hundred yards. In spite of increasing losses they still dashed on, and crowds of their countrymen were swarming over the breastwork behind them. Nearer and nearer they drew, but their ranks were thinning fast. When they were about a hundred yards from Bob's entrenchment their leaders wavered. At this many of the men halted, in irresolution; only a few of the bolder spirits, worked up to a pitch of frenzy, pressed on until but fifty yards separated them from their goal. These never returned.

With startling suddenness panic seized those who had faltered. Yelling with rage and despair they turned about and scurried like rabbits to the shelter of their breastwork, pursued by a dropping fire. When the survivors had got more than halfway back, their further retreat was covered by the field guns, and Bob again withdrew his men a little to the rear, well content with his successful stand.

There was no further attack that day. The men were jubilant. When Bob, on being relieved by Lawrence, returned to the mine, he was met at the end of the bridge by Ditta Lal. The Babu's aspect was even more than usually bland.

"I offer fulsome congratulations on sparkling victory, sir," he said. "Perchance you heard the universal shout that burst stentorian from drouthy throats."

"Is that your own?" asked Bob, interrupting.

"My own, sir?" The Babu was puzzled. "I fear I do not fully apprehend meaning of question."

"Why, it sounded like blank verse, and I wondered whether you yourself had been dropping into poetry."

"Delighted, sir," said the Babu with a smile and a bow. "I didn't twig my frail thoughts had run into metric mould. It was unpremeditated art. I am up to snuff now, sir. 'That burst stentorian from drouthy throats'--'pon my dicky, sir, phrase has tone, ring, sonorous rotundity that many professed poetasters would give boots for. However and notwithstanding, long and short of it is I am self-appointed spokesman for all and sundry in offering abject felicitations on auspicious event."

"Thanks, I'm sure."

They were walking side by side to the house.

"Now, dear sir," the Babu resumed, "when I was at Calcutta University--of which, as you are aware, I have honour and glory to be B.A.--I was wont to shed my light of countenance on football matches, watched young barbarians toe flying sphere. After certain amount of rough and tumble, at blast of whistle all performance ceased for brief interval, during which muddy oafs ingurgitated juice of lemons and all that."

"What are you driving at?" asked Bob in bewilderment.

"Why, sir, that interludium, denominated half-time, has parallel here and now. We are at half-time in this fateful strife. Three days and half of allotted span have expired; and I make bold to suggestion that, for refreshment and buck-up of general company, you issue orders for tamasha."

"What's that?"

"Tamasha, sir, is jollification, kick-up, regular beano--song and dance, et cetera. With your permission, I will undertake herculean labour of organization."

"My good man, you know our proverbs: 'Don't hallo till you're out of the wood'--'Don't count your chickens before they are hatched.' It's true the men have done very well so far, but the stiffest fight often comes in the second half, you know. Possess your soul in patience, Babu. If we come through safely I promise you shall have your tamasha, or whatever you call it, and I tell you what: as you seem to be a bit of a poet, why not spend your time in writing a ballad or something of the sort in anticipation?"

"Happy thought, sir. I have not hitherto built rhyme, lofty or otherwise, but I will do my level best to rise to height of great argument; I will set my eye in fine frenzy rolling, and body forth forms of things unknown at present, but justified by event. I will strike my lyre while it is hot. Good-night, sir, and sweet repose."

He waddled off, bent on a passionate quest for inspiration. Bob looked after him with a tolerant smile.

"Poor chap!" he thought. "Much learning has made him pretty mad. I wonder if we Britishers, when we pick up a smattering of their lore, strike the Hindus in the same way? I only hope his pæan will be justified by the event."

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIFTH

THE FIGHT AT THE BEND

At early morning, after a quiet night, Lawrence sent one of the men back to announce the approach of a flag of truce. Bob hurried at once to the breastwork. Three Kalmucks were advancing along the track, one of them apparently an officer. No others of the enemy were in sight. The envoys halted within a short distance of the entrenchment, and the officer began to speak in a loud shrill voice.

"What does he say?" asked Bob.

"I can't make it out," replied Lawrence. "Do any of you men understand him?"

The men, Sikhs and Pathans, acknowledged that they did not, whereupon Bob made signs to the Kalmuck to wait, and despatched a man to fetch Shan Tai, who as a western Chinaman might be able to act as interpreter.

When the cook arrived, and heard what was required of him, he shouted a few words to the officer, who responded with a speech of some length, very rapidly uttered. The purport of it was to propose terms. He offered the garrison the honours of war if they would surrender the mine and make no further opposition to the passage of the army up the valley. They would be allowed to depart unmolested, with bag and baggage; and the two white men, if they pleased, might return to their own country by way of Central Asia, through the Kalmuck lines.

Bob's reply was made without hesitation. He pointed out that the Kalmucks were the aggressors. Hostilities had not been of his seeking. All that he had desired was to live at peace and pursue his occupation as miner, whereby he gave employment to several score of workmen, including many of the officer's fellow-countrymen.

"We have been wantonly attacked," he said, "without warning and without provocation, and we are resolved to defend the property of the late owner of the mine, who was murdered by a man acting apparently in collusion with the force to which you belong. I reject your terms. But in order to avoid further bloodshed, I am willing to refer the matter to the Sirkar, and will abide by the decision of the Viceroy of the Emperor of India."

The officer had evidently come prepared for a refusal, for he at once put forward a modified proposal. He offered to leave the Englishman undisturbed at the mine if he on his side would refrain from attacking the army as it marched past. Bob saw the dilemma in which he was placed. The question was no longer a personal but an imperial one. Rejection of the offer would imply that he stood as an outpost of the Empire. But his answer was equally clear and emphatic. He declined to make terms of any kind with the enemy. The Kalmuck returned to his own lines, manifestly chagrined at the failure of his mission.

Bob expected that the rejection of the enemy's proposals would result in a more sustained and vigorous attack, and as soon as the officer had departed he set his men to complete the repairing of the breastwork which Lawrence had begun in the night. Presently the Kalmucks opened fire with rifles and field guns, and throughout the day the bombardment and sniping from the rocks intermittently continued; but there was no further attempt to rush the position. In the intervals Bob had fresh stones brought up for the repair of the breastwork, which had been considerably knocked about. The casualties among the garrison, however, were slight, and at the end of the fourth day Bob felt that he could reasonably congratulate himself on the success of his stand.

But he was still very anxious. Though the enemy had shown surprising sluggishness, he did not flatter himself that they had any idea of abandoning their task. More and more he wondered why they did not attack during the night, when, so far as they knew, the advantage would be wholly with them. For the first time since the commencement of the struggle he failed to sleep well, waking frequently, then dozing off again.

About four o'clock in the morning he was roused by the sound of two rifle shots in quick succession. Springing fully clothed from his bed, he rushed into the compound, called up the detachment whose turn it was to take duty at the breastwork, and led them at the double across the bridge and down the track. By the time he reached the position he found a furious fight in progress. The two scouts whom Lawrence had thrown out to give warning if the enemy moved had heard the tramp of men advancing, fired their rifles as a signal, and run back to join their own party. They were so closely followed by the Kalmucks, whose forms could be dimly seen in the twilight, that Lawrence had been unable to fire at once for fear of hitting the scouts, so that the enemy were within a few yards of the breastwork before they met with any resistance.

Reinforced by Bob's men, the party now opened fire with deadly effect, but the attackers were so numerous that the rush was scarcely checked. There was only time for a second volley before the head of the enemy's column surged up against the breastwork. They had held their fire until they were able to see the dark forms of their adversaries. Then their shots, fired point-blank, laid low several of the Sikhs and Pathans. Supported by the swarms in their rear they began to clamber up the rampart, in the teeth of the bristling bayonets opposed to them. On their side was the advantage of numbers: on the side of the defenders that of position; but Bob recognised in a minute that his men, ply their bayonets as they might, must soon be overwhelmed by sheer weight.

Suddenly a beam of light flashed over and past the scene of the conflict, resting on the track immediately beyond the breastwork, which was crowded with yelling Kalmucks pressing on to support their comrades. Gur Buksh in the compound had switched on the searchlight. It was not the blinding glare associated with the searchlights of forts and battleships, but it had sufficient illuminating power to show up the disorderly mass of the charging force.

For a moment it made no alteration in the conditions. Bob and his brother, with barely a score of men left to them, were hard pushed to hold the breastwork. Faster than they could hurl the enemy down at the point of the bayonet, others swarmed up. Bob was on the point of shouting an order to retire to his own original breastwork up the track when, above the shouts and yells of the combatants, sounded the characteristic rattle of the machine gun. Instantly he recognised how this might operate in his favour. The gun could not be trained on the men who were actually at grips with him, but in a few seconds it had swept a huge gap in the column advancing in serried ranks along the track, and deprived his immediate assailants of their support.

He at once took advantage of this fortunate diversion. Instead of retiring, he cried to the men to stand firm, and the desperate work at the rampart went on. For some time the Kalmucks there did not know or failed to appreciate what was happening behind them. They still pressed on and up, and but for the timely arrival of another dozen men despatched by Gur Buksh from the mine they might even now have carried the position. The reinforcement turned the scale. Bob called on his men for a final effort, and he and Lawrence flashed their revolvers in the very faces of the crowd. Fired by their example the men thrust and jabbed with redoubled energy, and in a few minutes hurled the last of the assailants back on to the track.

They found themselves in a terrifying quandary. The space between them and their baffled comrades was illuminated by the fatal band of light. The machine gun had ceased to play on the track when it was cleared of the enemy. Now there were forty or fifty men trapped in the dark wedge-like area between the beam of the searchlight and the breastwork. They knew that if any of them dared to attempt a rush back they would be the target for innumerable bullets. One or two did rashly hazard a retreat, but as soon as they encroached upon the luminous band the gun's rattle scarcely gave them warning of the shots that fell among them almost instantaneously. The rest cowered in the darkness, waiting for death.

Bob had to hold his men with a tight rein to prevent them from leaping the breastwork and massacring their despairing foes. He had thought of a better way. Fyz Ali could make himself understood by them. Through his lips Bob told them that if they laid down their arms they might retire, taking their wounded with them. They eagerly accepted the proffered mercy, but shrank from acting on it, until they were assured that a message had been sent to the havildar to refrain from firing at them. Then, utterly cowed, they handed their weapons over the breastwork, gathered up such of their comrades as were yet alive, and carried them in all haste across the illuminated space and out of sight.

This was an auspicious beginning for the fifth day. It was the greatest triumph that the garrison had as yet achieved, and the men were proportionably elated. The enemy on the other hand were dejected and despondent. For some hours they remained at a distance. In the afternoon, however, they resumed their skirmishing tactics, and under cover of a renewed bombardment crept nearer and nearer to the breastwork. When their field guns had to cease fire for fear of hitting the skirmishers, Bob decided to venture a charge, and led twenty of his best men in a sudden leap over the barricade. The enemy did not wait for the touch of the terrible bayonets. They fired a scattered volley and fled. A lucky shot from Ganda Singh's rifle brought down one of the rearmost, and he rolled down the rocks on to the track. Acting on the unconsidered impulse of the moment Bob sent two of the Sikhs to make him prisoner, and when Lawrence shortly afterwards returned to the compound for his afternoon sleep, he took the wounded man with him, and had his injuries attended to.

He proved to be an officer. Interrogating him through Shan Tai, Lawrence learnt that the general himself was on his way to the mine to make a personal inspection of the position. The Kalmuck, who seemed grateful for the attentions shown him, advised Lawrence to yield. His people's comparative inactivity that day was only preliminary to a crushing blow. "Without your flying machine," he said, "you would by this time have been destroyed. That gave you an advantage. Soon the advantage will be on our side."

"Will the presence of your general do so much for you?" asked Lawrence.

The man refused to say any more; but his manner, and the half-smile upon his face, gave Lawrence an uneasy feeling that the Mongol general must have a trump card to play. He was so much impressed by the officer's hint of a great stroke impending that instead of seeking his bed, he hurried back to inform Bob.

"What can he mean?" he asked.

"I can think of nothing but that the general is bringing up large reinforcements, and means to throw them upon us and carry the position by sheer weight of numbers. He won't care how many lives he chucks away, and everything depends on whether his men's discipline is good enough to stand the racket. I don't know how far these Kalmucks have a contempt for death like the Japanese."

"Don't you think I'd better fly a few miles down the track and see what is going on?"

"But you're tired out. You've been at it since midnight."

"That's all right. I shall sleep easier when I know what we've got to expect."

"Very well then. Don't go far, and keep high."

The appearance of the aeroplane over the track, with Lawrence and Fazl on board, was a signal for the enemy to scurry to cover. Not a shot was fired; their only thought was to escape the terrible bombs which they associated with the flying machine. But Lawrence did not intend to use his bombs. What he saw, or Fazl reported to him, proved that his stock of missiles was insufficient for any greater effect than to retard, for a few hours at the most, the inevitable crisis. Two field guns were in position at the enemy's advanced entrenchment. Near by, men had been engaged in constructing platforms for other guns, until the sight of the aeroplane sent them to cover. Farther down the track, at intervals, five or six similar weapons were being dragged up; to destroy them all, even if he were lucky enough in his aim to do so, would exhaust his stock of bombs, and he felt that he must hold some in reserve for the ultimate defence of the mine.

The track, as far as he could see it, was almost choked with men and animals. The men scattered as well as they could when they saw the aeroplane; some shots were fired at it, harmlessly. It was impossible for Lawrence to guess the magnitude of the reinforcement that was being pushed forward; but it seemed to him that several regiments must have been sent on from the main army. The bodies of mounted men were separated by long convoys of provisions and ammunition, carried on the backs of mules and camels. It almost appeared as if a regular advance of the whole force had begun. The Kalmuck general was clearly confident of his power to break the resistance of the little band that had hitherto withstood his passage.

Lawrence flew as far as the bridge; it seemed useless to go farther. He had seen what he had expected to see: a vast and overwhelming force. But he had obtained no definite clue to the meaning of the captive officer's vague hint of a master stroke. That the enemy had a crushing superiority in numbers he had known all along: there was nothing to indicate that they had anything more than the advantage of numbers still. The presence of their general might act as a stimulus; but the nature of the position precluded any marked change in their mode of operations. It was essentially a position that could be won only by dogged, unfaltering determination: the issue depended on the fighting man, not on the tactician.

Perhaps if Lawrence had continued his flight to the plain on which the main army was encamped, he or Fazl might have noticed one slight change since his former visit in Major Endicott's company. A field telegraph had been laid down, stretching away to the north. This might well have escaped his observation from the great altitude to which he must of necessity have risen. Even if he had seen it, probably it would have suggested nothing more than one of the ordinary accompaniments of an army in the field. Yet that single wire was the clue to the Kalmuck's cryptic warning.

On returning to the mine his report to Bob was necessarily disappointing. It was clear that everything still depended on blocking the enemy's advance. If they could once establish themselves on the southern side of the bend, and bring their guns to bear directly on the compounds, a few hours' bombardment would render the place untenable: it would be the beginning of the end. Against it the garrison were almost helpless. They had only ten rounds of ammunition for the captured field gun; and though the machine gun was in better case, not even the bravest of men--and Gur Buksh was that--could for long work his gun under the deadly fire of a whole park of artillery.

"Is there any possible way of strengthening our breastwork?" asked Lawrence, as with sinking hearts they discussed the situation.

"We can erect a second rampart in the night," suggested Bob. "It would take them a little longer to knock to pieces, and give us time. Every minute gained is valuable. You see, they can't bring their guns into direct line with the mine until they've driven us away, they can't do that without charging, and they can't charge without ceasing fire temporarily."

"Yes, I see that, but with four or five field guns at work they'll soon smash even a double breastwork, and then the way's clear for a charge. I wish I had bombed their guns now."

"You can do it to-morrow morning. I don't want to spend our last dynamite till absolutely the last moment. To-morrow's the seventh day. If the Chief has been able to keep his word we shall be reinforced some time during the day, and then----"

"You say 'if.' There's a doubt about it, isn't there? I've felt it all along."

"There is, of course. He may not have been able to spare the men. But hang it all! what's the good of looking on the dark side? We've held our own for a week, and even if we're smashed in the end I bet the delay is worth a good deal to India. The loss of time is a serious matter for the enemy. But for us the whole twenty thousand of them would be now on the flank of our army. I can't imagine any force of ours of the same size being checked in this way by a mere handful of men in a gorge. I dare say the reason is that the Kalmucks aren't used to hill fighting. They're best in a cavalry raid; here their horses are only a nuisance, and they're rather slow to adapt themselves to the conditions. But they've had a week to get used to them; and the worst of it is that our fellows, plucky as they are, are pretty nearly worn out."

"Do you think they'll jib if relief doesn't come?"

"What's the good? They'd only be massacred. They'll fight to the last gasp.... I say, I've got an idea. There's plenty of wire knocking about the mine: let's make a couple of wire entanglements and set them up in the night, just beyond the breastwork. If we take care the enemy won't hear us; they certainly won't see us."

"Wouldn't they notice them when they make their rush?"

"That's possible, of course; but I rather fancy they'll be so hot to get at us that they won't. The wire won't show up much against the background of rock. Anyhow, it's worth trying. Any check would give us the chance to pepper them from the breastwork, and judging by what we've seen already they'll be in a panic that they'll take some time to recover from. Now you must get a sleep, so go back to the mine and tell Gur Buksh to get all the wire he can and set all the men to work; it won't be the first time he's had such a job, you may be sure."

When Lawrence had arranged this with the havildar, and was proceeding to the house, he noticed Ditta Lal walking with an air of dejection about the compound. The Babu's hands were clasped behind his back; his eyes were bent on the ground, or rather on the intervening promontory of his person. He looked up as Lawrence drew near.

"Gigantic undertaking, sir," he said sorrowfully.

"Pretty stiff, certainly," replied Lawrence.

"Stronger word is requisite in this exigent, sir. Such task transcends the topmost rung of art. Without excessive reverence for dictum of bloated antiquity, I hold with him who sings 'born not made.'"

"Well, we can only do our best," said Lawrence, puzzled by the Babu's words.

"What shadows we are, what shadows we pursue!" sighed Ditta Lal. "After mountainous travail I produce splendiferous line; I rack my cranium for colleague or successor; but final word, whose function is to charm attentive ear, eludes, evades, crumps. To wit: 'And batters blackguards with his boisterous bomb!'--line perfect in harmony and melody and all that; but when I run through alphabet for rhyme--com, dom, fom, gom, hom, and so on till I come to blank wall at zom: not a word, sir, that fulfils mutual demand of sound and sense--not one word."

"What on earth are you gassing about, Babu?" asked Lawrence, who had not heard of his previous conversation with Bob.

"Of what, sir, but task entrusted to unworthy servant by honourable brother, to compose song of victory, ode, epic, or what not, in celebration of happy and glorious achievement about to be consummated! But I will not despair; nil desperandum; as you truly remark, we can but do our best; resources of civilisation as represented by B.A. degree of Calcutta University are not exhausted; something attempted, something done, shall earn my night's repose, of which I shall be jolly and unmistakably glad, for agony of expressing thoughts too deep for tears wrings honest brow, sir."

Lawrence feared that the stress of the situation was making the Babu mad; but he spoke a sympathetic word, and passed on.

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SIXTH

THE DEATH TRAP

There was no alarm from beyond the bend during the night. But in the small hours the sentry at the bridge gave a loud shout, and fired southward up the track. When Lawrence rushed from the house to discover what had happened, he learnt that the sentry had seen a number of dim figures creeping towards the mine. They had now disappeared. Lawrence conjectured that Nurla Bai and his friends, who must now be nearly famished, had been attracted by the sound of guns, and stolen down in the hope of eluding the vigilance of the garrison, and gaining the path that led above their old quarters and descended on the track on the nearer side of the bend. Even if they had got thus far undetected, they could not but have fallen into the hands of the defenders of the breastwork. It was an attempt they were not likely to repeat. There was no chance of their rejoining the Kalmuck army until the defence was broken.

Before morning the doubled breastwork was defended by a strong wire entanglement. Soon after daybreak the enemy began a terrific bombardment from four guns, two of which had been mounted on platforms behind the two which Lawrence had already seen in position. The garrison could make no effective reply, but could only watch their breastwork crumbling away under the shells that pounded it without intermission. The two brothers held their men some distance in the rear, as much under cover as possible, ready to lead them on and occupy the ruin of the entrenchment as soon as the expected charge began.

About ten o'clock they saw Fazl running towards them from the bridge. He had been taking his turn of duty on guard at the aeroplane platform, and the fact that he had left his post seemed ominous. Rushing up to Lawrence, he exclaimed excitedly that he had heard the distant hum of an aeroplane. The boys were incredulous: they themselves were almost deafened by the roar of the guns and the crash of falling masonry. But immediately afterwards, in the interval between the shots, they caught the sound--the continuous throbbing drone, like a gigantic sewing-machine at work. They looked at each other aghast. For a moment or two they were mute: then Bob said:

"You must get aloft at once. It's our only chance. Get above the aeroplane, and bomb it. There's no time to lose."

Lawrence set off at a run, the Gurkha behind him. He raced across the bridge and on to the cantilever pathway, and had just turned the corner when he heard a tremendous explosion behind him. A few seconds later a large monoplane flashed by, and was soon lost to sight up the valley.

Long practice had given him facility in starting. The aeroplane was ready for flight. Lawrence and the Gurkha leapt to their places, and within two minutes the machine was in the air, flying after the enemy.

This, then, was the meaning of the Kalmuck officer's veiled warning. The enemy had taken a leaf out of the defenders' book. Their airmen, equipped no doubt with bombs much more destructive than Lawrence's home-made missiles, intended to strike at the very heart of the defence, and by rendering the mine premises untenable, clear the way for the advance of the army.

Lawrence was fortunately cool of head and a rapid thinker. After a moment of stupefaction he saw his course clearly. The danger from the air must be met in the air. This could only be done by rising above the enemy's monoplane, and hurling his bombs down upon it. The Kalmuck pilot would be as anxious as he to avoid an actual collision, which must prove disastrous to both the machines. It was wholly a question of manoeuvring for position.

The glimpse he had caught of the hostile aeroplane as it flashed by, suggested that it was a much larger and more powerful machine than his own. If this were indeed the case, he was probably quite outmatched in speed as in armament. But he saw in a moment that the possession of the smaller machine might tend to his own advantage, for he could wheel in narrow parts of the valley where the attempt would prove destructive to the enemy. Moreover, he knew the valley thoroughly; the others, though no doubt vastly superior to him in a military sense, lacked local experience and had everything to learn. Time was on his side.

As soon as he began his flight he knew that he had gained one point. If the enemy had turned at his customary wheeling-place, their aeroplane would already have been in sight. The next suitable spot was several miles farther up the valley, unless indeed they should rise to a much greater height than that at which they had passed. Such an ascension would consume time; it would further make it very difficult for them to drop their bombs with any degree of accuracy. Whether they rose or continued their flight at the same altitude until they reached the wider turning-place, they would not be back for four or five minutes. Lawrence resolved to utilise this breathing space.

He flew on until he reached his usual turning-place, then began to mount in a spiral course. While he was doing this, two considerations flashed through his mind. If, when he met the enemy, he should be still below them, he must fly on in the opposite direction, for the chance of being hit by a bomb, when the machines were passing at the rate of perhaps a hundred and fifty miles an hour, would be very slight. His only fear in that case was that they would fly straight back to the mine and work havoc there without a possibility of interference. If, on the other hand, he were above them, his best course would be to fly in the same direction, and try to drop his bombs on them. When two express trains are running the same way, it is possible, however great their speed, to cast an object from a carriage of one through an open window of the other.

He was still ascending when Fazl shouted that the enemy's aeroplane was in sight, at a greater height.

"Rifle!" said Lawrence instantly, as he headed up the valley.

The Gurkha fired, as the two machines rushed at terrific speed towards each other. There was no reply, but a few seconds afterwards an explosion in the valley below showed that the enemy had dropped a bomb. It would have been almost a miracle if it had hit the aeroplane in the fraction of a second of the passing. But a second explosion a little later was very perturbing. Unless he could check the enemy, they might sail over the mine again and again, and on the wider target which that presented take surer aim. Luckily they would have to fly several miles down the river before they could again turn, and the few minutes' grace might give him time to ascend still higher, and attain an altitude at which he would have the advantage.

As the machines passed, Lawrence had had time to confirm his impression that the other aeroplane was much larger than his own. He saw too that it was occupied by three men. But these elements of superiority would be to some extent neutralized by the greater handiness of his own machine in navigating the narrow gorges of the valley. The situation demanded a readiness to take risks. The gorge to which Lawrence had now come after passing the enemy was so constricted that in ordinary circumstances he would never have dreamed of attempting a turning movement. But he felt the supreme necessity of wheeling at once, in order to return to the "bay" which he had lately left. There he might do something to protect the mine, if only by diverting the enemy's attack upon himself. He might also have an opportunity of rising to a sufficient height for offensive purposes.

Choosing the widest part of the gorge, he banked his machine up, and clearing the cliff apparently by inches he swept round again to the north. When in half a minute he reached the turning place, the aeroplane was not in sight. But he heard sounds of a fierce struggle beyond. The bombardment had ceased, but the air was filled with the crack of rifles, the rattle of the machine gun, and the shouts of men. He could do nothing to help his brother. There was not even time to fly on and drop a bomb among the enemy: he must utilise every moment in preparing for the return of the aeroplane. He steered his machine in a series of short spirals, rising as rapidly as possible, watching the valley northward anxiously. As yet its windings concealed the enemy's aeroplane from view. It was an inexpressible relief to him that they had not attempted to turn at the spot where he now was. They had not thought it practicable, or not had the time; probably they had shot by before even the possibility had occurred to them.

He swept round and round in his corkscrew flight, rising gradually until he was more than two thousand feet above the river. His view was now greatly extended, and when the larger aeroplane came in sight from round a bend nearly a mile away, he saw with a flash of hope that it was now lower than his own machine, although somewhat higher than before. Evidently the airmen had foreseen that he might rise in order to avoid their bombs, and sought to forestall him; but his narrow spiral had carried him up to a greater height than their two long inclined planes.

The moment he saw them he started straight to meet them. Nothing could have been better calculated to assist his brother in the desperate struggle on the track. It was as when a charging bull is diverted from the object of his fury by the fluttering of a handkerchief or a newspaper within his range of vision. The Kalmuck airmen recognised that they had an opponent with whom they must seriously reckon; and though perhaps their general, looking on from below, would have bidden them to ignore the aeroplane, and pursue the more important duty of shattering the defences, they no doubt thought that a few minutes' or even hours' further delay would be less disastrous than the destruction of themselves and their machine. When the defenders' aeroplane was out of action, the rest would be easy.

Lawrence had resolved not to imitate the enemy in hurling a bomb while the machines were flashing past in opposite directions. His missiles were too precious for one to be wasted. As the aeroplanes met, he heard two cracks, followed by two metallic thuds on the iron plates below his chassis: the enemy had fired. What effect their shots had he knew not, but neither the engine nor the occupants suffered any injury. He had already commenced a turning movement. Completing his circle, he steered straight after the enemy, who were heading directly up the valley. There had been no explosion on the track or in the mine compounds as they passed: so far his tactics had justified themselves.

But Lawrence had not been more than a few seconds in pursuit before he found that in speed his machine was utterly outclassed. The enemy seemed almost to leave him standing. This was not unexpected; but as soon as he was sure of it he felt that his course of action was clearly marked out. It would be a fatal mistake to give the enemy enough air-room to take advantage of their superiority. If they got plenty of space for manoeuvring they could rise as far above him as they pleased, and either shatter the aeroplane with a well-placed bomb, or, having two rifles to one, could wait an opening for a shot that would incapacitate himself or Fazl, perhaps both. He must devote all his energy and skill to dodging and deluding the enemy, attacking them if occasion offered, in any case keeping them constantly employed. Their engine must consume a much larger quantity of petrol and lubricant than his. They must have used up a great deal in flying from their starting-place--Tash Kend, he presumed--and it was unlikely that there was any supply with the army at the end of the valley from which they could replenish their tanks. If he could only manoeuvre so as to starve them out of fuel, all their superiorities would be nullified and their usefulness would have vanished.

It was a question now of calculating chances, or rather of guessing--like the children's game when one brings his closed fists from behind his back and asks another to guess which hand holds the concealed object. When the two aeroplanes were out of sight, the occupants of neither could know what the others were doing. They could only make a random shot at the probabilities. Lawrence felt pretty sure that the enemy would seek to rise to a greater altitude than they supposed him to be attaining. He therefore decided to descend at once, and hover in the lower part of the valley. A long vol plané northward brought him within a short distance of the struggle going on at the bend. As he sped by, he ordered Fazl to drop a bomb among the enemy beyond the breastwork, then swooped past, three or four hundred feet above the river, turned at the first possible spot, and flew back to meet the enemy. As he expected, they had risen to a great height. Flying low as he now was, they were probably two thousand feet above him. When they saw him, they at once began to descend; but the machines were rushing in opposite directions so swiftly that the vertical distance between them was lessened by only two or three hundred feet when they met. A few seconds after they had passed, Lawrence heard two explosions, and Fazl reported that the enemy's bombs had fallen, one in the river, the other on the cliff-side. Again they had missed their aim.

Lawrence knew that they could not return within fifteen minutes. While it was important to him that they should waste their petrol, it was equally important that he should husband his, for he had very little left at the shed. It occurred to him that there would be time to alight on the platform, run to the mine to see how things were passing there, and get back in time to fly off before the enemy came in sight. He therefore wheeled round at his usual place, and in less than a minute slid gently on to the ledge. Leaving Fazl to look to the engine, he ran along the pathway, and on turning the corner saw with some astonishment that hostilities had apparently ceased. The breastwork was still manned by Bob and his party: Lawrence almost winced as he noticed how large a number of bodies lay prostrate around them. The enemy were invisible: it seemed certain that their attack had been repulsed.

The mine compounds were deserted, except by Gur Buksh and two other men, whom Lawrence recognised in a moment as Chunda Beg and Shan Tai. These three were reclining against the wall near the machine gun. Every other fighting man had crossed the bridge to bear his part in the holding of the track. Lawrence felt a thrill of pride in the courage and loyalty of the cook and the khansaman, who, house servants as they were, often held in scorn by the warriors, had in this hour of peril given their assistance to the steadfast havildar.

He hurried on to the compound, noting as he passed the havoc wrought by the one bomb from the hostile aeroplane which had hit the mark. Gur Buksh and the others saluted as gravely as if it were the prime of peace.

"What has happened?" asked Lawrence breathlessly.

The havildar related how the appearance of the enemy's aeroplane had been the signal for a more ferocious bombardment than had before taken place. When the breastwork was half ruined by the shells, a swarm of Kalmucks rushed to the attack with yells of anticipated triumph, while the defenders, who had remained in comparative safety some distance away, leapt back to their places at the shattered rampart. The enemy, coming unawares on the wire entanglements, had been thrown into an unwieldy and disordered mass; and after a few minutes of desperate efforts to break through the obstacle, with partial success, they had been so withered by the defenders' fire that flesh and blood could endure no more. They had fled, a confused rabble, to their own entrenchment.

There was no time for Lawrence to hear more, or to discuss with the imperturbable Sikh any measures that might be devised to assist the heroic fighters on the other bank. He knew well that the check could be only temporary, and could not think without distress of the issue of the next attack. Hurrying back to the ledge, he and Fazl got into their places, ready to fly off directly they heard the returning aeroplane. The Gurkha's ears first caught the throbbing drone, and as the machine once more rose into the air, the field guns recommenced to bark and spit.

As soon as Lawrence reached his turning-place he began to climb. In a few moments he caught sight of the enemy's aeroplane skimming round the bend below the mine. It was much lower than before, probably no more than three hundred feet above Lawrence, and as soon as the airmen caught sight of him, they dipped so suddenly as almost to suggest that the machine was beyond control. But Lawrence realised that the descent was intentional. They meant to come as close above him as they could in the half mile between them. He ceased to mount, and steered straight down the valley, hugging the cliff on the left hand. The enemy followed his manoeuvre, edging to their right in order to pass immediately above him. The two aeroplanes were only about a hundred yards horizontally apart when with a quick movement of his rudder, which threw a hazardous strain upon the planes, Lawrence shot out over the river. Before the enemy could alter their own course he had passed well outside them. Their bombs, dropped hurriedly while the pilot was striving to cope with Lawrence's sudden movement, fell harmlessly into the river.

The enemy's turning-place up stream being much nearer the mine than that in the opposite direction, there was no time to alight again and save expenditure of petrol. But there was time to lend aid to the defenders at the breastwork. Lawrence flew on, instructing Fazl to hurl a bomb among the enemy as he passed the bend. Two teams of horses were dragging more field guns up to the rampart. It was among these that Fazl let fall his bomb, and looking back, he shouted gleefully that one of the teams had stampeded and dashed with their gun over the bank into the river, while the other were plunging furiously amid a smother of smoke. At the same time the rattle of the machine gun announced that Gur Buksh was again at work.

Lawrence did not wish to fly six or seven miles down the river to the wide bay in which he was sure the enemy had turned. To wheel round earlier involved some risk, but it was a risk from which his strung-up nerves did not flinch.

About three-fourths of a mile beyond the bend, at the spot where the enemy had established themselves after their first repulse, the gorge curved to the west, and in the cliff-face there was an extensive depression, scooped out as it were by a landslip. He resolved to try his luck there. The margin was perilously narrow, and only a man absolutely familiar with the spot, as he was, and prepared for the turning movement at the very moment of reaching it, could have hoped to wheel in the space.

At the critical point he banked up at a sharp angle, and for one brief moment felt a cold shudder of fear as he recognised the beginning of the sideslip that had brought disaster on so many reckless or unfortunate airmen. But the planes recovered their grip; the machine swung round across the river, having shaved the cliff on the left by an appallingly fine margin; and flew lightly and evenly up stream again.

By this daring feat Lawrence had saved nearly ten miles and the equivalent quantity of petrol. He had also avoided a meeting with the enemy on the north side of the mine, where manoeuvring to dodge them would have been much more difficult. By alighting when they next passed him he would again save while they were expending, and however large their supply had been when they started, it could not much longer stand the drain of continual flight up and down the river. Even now, since entering the valley, they must have travelled a good deal more than a hundred miles; their flight from headquarters might have been three hundred. No doubt a further supply of fuel and oil had been despatched after them, but it would take a week or more to reach them over such rugged country. If he could only keep them fruitlessly employed until they were forced to leave the gorge through failing petrol, he would gain perhaps just enough time for the garrison to prolong their defence until the expected relief force arrived.

Thought is quicker even than an aeroplane's flight: these hopes, conjectures, volitions flashed through Lawrence's mind in the interval between his venturesome circuit and his arrival at the bend. The bombardment had recommenced. Two guns had been got into position; others were being hauled up the track. A hot rifle fire was opened upon the aeroplane, and both pilot and passenger were struck by fragments of bullets that had splintered on the metal work. Their great speed soon carried them out of further danger, but the bomb which Fazl dropped missed its aim, exploded on the rocky bank instead of on the track, and did little harm.

Lawrence guessed that the Kalmuck airmen would now suppose him to have risen, and would themselves be mounting in order to keep above him. He therefore resolved to keep low. The sequel showed that the enemy had been cunning enough to guess at his guess. When they reappeared, so far from ascending they were descending, yet gradually, so that they might adapt their course to the exigencies of the moment. They were now only two hundred feet above him.

This time he decided not to rush past and continue his flight up stream, but to wheel at the turning-place, and save time and petrol by flying back in their wake to his platform. He realised afterwards that he began his turning movement a trifle too soon, though, as the event proved, his indiscretion served him well. The enemy had not quite met him when he shifted his rudder for circling round the bay. He expected them to flash by as usual at express speed, but to his intense astonishment and alarm he found that instead of continuing on their direct course they had suddenly banked over, and were wheeling above him in the same direction as himself. It was a manoeuvre of extraordinary daring, for the larger aeroplane required a much wider circle than the smaller, and in order to clear the cliffs it had to remain banked up at a dangerously sharp angle.

Lawrence felt himself trapped. He could not fly out at either end of the bay, he thought, without being immediately followed by the enemy, who would then have him at their mercy. Yet he was in equal danger if he remained circling below them, for though their flight was swifter than his, at some moment their machine would be vertically above him, and they would doubtless seize that moment for hurling a bomb. He could not descend without shattering the aeroplane on the banks or plunging into the river. He felt as helpless as a pigeon beneath an eagle.

It was indeed an extraordinary situation: two aeroplanes wheeling round and round in a cup-like hollow, with less than two hundred feet of space between them. The Kalmucks had not as yet fired or dropped a bomb: Lawrence imagined them gloating over their helpless victim, awaiting a favourable moment for one crushing stroke. The first shot was fired by Fazl; the enemy replied, but instead of keeping up a continuous fire, they ceased after a few shots, which riddled the planes, but hit no vital part. Lawrence wondered at their abstinence, until, following them with his eyes, he had a sudden conviction that they were in difficulties. The machine was banked up to the extreme limit of safety, and it flashed upon him that the enemy, and not himself, were caged. They could not ascend, for, a few hundred feet above them, the cliff on the west side of the stream hung forward in a jagged bluff that came within the circle of their flight. Contact with it would hurl them into the river. Nor could they leave the bay by either of the exits north or south without the risk of colliding with the cliffs, for the space was so narrow, and the speed of the machine so great, that the movements necessary for unbanking and steering could hardly be performed in the fraction of a second between their quitting the bay and running into the straight. It is one thing for a wasp to fly into a bottle, and quite another to fly out again.

The machines had completed several circles before Lawrence had grasped the situation. During this time Fazl had been steadily firing, but the enemy had been silent. Suddenly the Gurkha uttered a shout; one of the Kalmucks fell from the aeroplane, and whirled over and over in the air until he struck the river and disappeared.

"Don't fire again!" cried Lawrence.

He had become conscious that the perpendicular distance between the two planes was rapidly diminishing. The enemy's engine had not failed; their speed was the same; yet it was plain that moment by moment they were drawing nearer to the plane below. If the machines had been ships, Lawrence would have been tempted to believe that the enemy were trying to board; but he knew that a collision would be fatal to both. He was at a loss to explain the strange movement; indeed, he had little time to think of it, for he realised that unless he himself made his escape, his machine would be soon hurled to the bottom by the impact of the larger. He had not found it necessary to bank so much as the Kalmuck pilot. His lesser speed and the greater handiness of his aeroplane enabled him to fly out at the exit without the almost certainty of dashing against the cliff. At his next round he steered straight through the northern gap, and flew back in a flush of wonder and excitement to the platform.

As he expected, the enemy did not follow him. Alighting he rushed to the projecting buttress and gazed up the valley. He could see the doomed aeroplane as it flashed across the opening of the bay. It was still whirling round and round, but falling, falling with ever increasing velocity. He shuddered with horror as he contemplated the inevitable end. He did not witness the actual close of the tragedy. The aeroplane as it neared the bottom was hidden from him by the rocky banks of the river. But half a minute after he himself stood in trembling safety a tremendous explosion shook the ground, and a cloud of smoke and broken rocks shot high into the air. Then there was a burst of flame, and he knew that all was over.

Overcome with sickness at the terrible end of these gallant airmen, and with nervous exhaustion after his own wearing efforts, he lay flat on the rock to recover his composure. Thinking over the recent scene, he hit upon a conjectural explanation of the uncontrollable descent of the enemy's aeroplane. He supposed that, with the machine so critically banked up in order to navigate the narrow cup, the pilot had been quite unable to make those delicate adjustments of the planes and the elevator that were necessary to counteract the dragging force of gravity. Later on, when he had an opportunity of discussing the matter with his brother, Bob scouted his theory, declaring that while the petrol lasted nothing could have prevented the machine from whirling round and round. But Lawrence stuck to his opinion, and Bob very naturally declared that it was not a matter he would care to put to the test.

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SEVENTH

AD INFIMOS

Just as the ticking of the household clock is unnoticed, but its cessation is immediately remarked; so it was not until the coughing roar of the field guns, which had continued ever since Lawrence last soared over the bend, suddenly ceased, that he was roused to full consciousness of the critical situation at the mine. Springing up, he ran with Fazl along the pathway until he came to a spot where the whole theatre of the combat could be viewed.

The noise of the guns had been followed by a hoarse babel of cries mingled with the crackle of rifles. He was just in time to see a swarm of Kalmucks surge over the breastwork, and Bob with his devoted band rushing up the track to the second rampart a hundred yards away. The machine gun beneath the north wall of the mine was silent; nobody was to be seen in the compound; and Lawrence's heart sank with dread lest the gun had been smashed, and Gur Buksh and his voluntary assistants slain.

In a moment, however, Fazl drew his attention excitedly to three men lying flat on their faces upon the drawbridge. He recognised them at once as the havildar, Shan Tai and Chunda Beg. But what were they doing? Their arms were moving swiftly this way and that, like the arms of tailors sewing.

"See, sahib!" cried Fazl, lifting his hand and pointing in still more excitement.

And then Lawrence saw that the bridge was no longer a bridge. The end which had rested on the rock in mid stream had been shattered by a shell, and Gur Buksh and his companions were working with might and main to replace the broken portion with rope. Fortunately, prone as they lay, they were for the present concealed from the enemy by the breastwork manned by the diminished garrison; but they would be in full view when they rose to return to the compound. When the time should come for the whole party to beat a final retreat, it would be almost impossible for a single man to escape being shot down.

Lawrence looked down the track. Fighting had ceased. The Kalmucks who had sprung over the breastwork had been recalled. A great number were engaged in repairing and strengthening the rampart, so as to render their gunners secure from enfilading fire. Behind, another crowd was dragging more guns into position, and Lawrence noticed that there were now machine guns as well as field pieces. The fact that Bob's men were not firing seemed to indicate that their ammunition was failing. The captured field gun was now useless for lack of shells; Gur Buksh had very little ammunition for his gun, and in any case he could not return to it until his work on the bridge was finished. It was of vital importance that the retreat to the mine should be kept open. What alarmed Lawrence most of all was his certainty that, even with the bridge repaired, the little band of thirty fighters were practically cut off because they could only cross under the enemy's fire. As soon as the enemy's guns were placed, the second rampart would be knocked to pieces in a few minutes at so short a range. The garrison would be swept up the track, or shot in attempting to regain the mine. The siege would be at an end, for so determined an enemy would doubtless find some means of crossing the river, even if the defenders escaped destruction and cut down the bridge behind them. They might hold out for a little, perhaps, in the dark and narrow galleries; but as soon as the enemy played on these with their artillery, they would be rendered untenable by the deadly fumes. It seemed that before the sun went down the whole place would be in the hands of the Kalmucks, and there would no longer be any impediment to their march.

The one thing needful, to prolong the struggle even for a few hours, was to bring the garrison back into the compound. There were still a few bombs left; by attacking the enemy with these Lawrence thought he might gain just enough time for the retreat. When he had done that he would fly southward to look for the relief force, and if it were in sight, urge it to haste. The mere knowledge that it was approaching would put heart into the weary garrison, and nerve them for prolonged resistance.

"How much petrol is left?" he asked Fazl.

"Eight or nine gallons, sahib--and a little paraffin also."

This might suffice for a couple of hours' flight; then the aeroplane would be out of action. Anything further that Lawrence could do must then be done at his brother's side.

He told Fazl what he proposed to do.

"I will run across the bridge and let Bob Sahib know," said the Gurkha.

"No; it's too dangerous. Just give a shout to attract his attention, and I will semaphore to him."

A piercing cry rolled across the river. Behind his rampart Bob turned and waved his hand. Lawrence instantly signalled that he had a message to give. At the spot where he stood, while in full view of Bob, he was invisible to the enemy a hundred yards farther north. He began to work his arms in the movements of the flag-signal code. Fazl meanwhile returned to the aeroplane, tested the engine, put on board the whole remaining stock of petrol, together with lubricant and a couple of gallons of paraffin left from the quantity brought from the frontier house, and all the bombs.

The conversation by semaphore took some little time. Bob wanted to know what had become of the enemy's aeroplane. Lawrence replied merely that it was out of action, without giving particulars. Having explained what he proposed to do, and obtained Bob's assent, he returned to the platform, and was soon flying up the river. At the turning-place he saw on the bank below the blackened ruins of the enemy's machine. When he wheeled round and approached the bend, he became the target for the Kalmucks' rifles, and as he had not risen very high the bullets whistled around unpleasantly near. Just before he reached the enemy's breastwork Fazl dropped two bombs; there was a double explosion, and the man reported that they had fallen apparently at the right spot, though the dust and smoke prevented him from seeing the effect.

Lawrence flew on. In spite of the necessity of economizing fuel, he did not again attempt his previous risky turn, but went on until he reached the place where wheeling could be performed without danger. The track was swarming with the enemy. They did not now fire at him; he guessed that these men could hardly distinguish his machine from their own.

On returning towards the bend he saw that the bombs had wrought great havoc there. One at least of the guns was dismounted: the track was strewn with prostrate forms; and near the rampart only a few men could be seen scurrying up the hillside to find shelter among the rocks. Fazl dropped another bomb, aiming as nearly as possible at the guns that were still in position. The further breastwork was deserted: as Lawrence crossed it the drawbridge was blown up, and a cheer rose from the little garrison now lining the walls of the compound.

Lawrence passed up the valley. It was twenty minutes since he started from the platform. His fuel would last little more than an hour and a half. Going and returning his flight could continue for a bare hundred miles. It was now about four o'clock; in two hours the valley would be dark. If he did not sight the relieving force within less than an hour--that is, within fifty miles--he must return to the mine without the message of hope. Even if he should see it, he reflected that many hours must elapse before it could reach the mine, however much the march was forced. This consideration made him decide to shorten his flight; he must reserve enough petrol to carry the aeroplane once more over the enemy, so that he could use against them the four bombs he had left.

Flying low upon the river, he recognized at every few miles the scenes of the various episodes of this prolonged contest. Here was the wide extension of the gorge where the hapless aeroplane had no doubt made its turns: just beyond was the open country where the Pathans had stood at bay against the Kalmucks; farther south, the scene of his capture by Nurla Bai. With anxious concentration he scanned the track; not a man was in sight. To obtain a wider view he swept up in a long plane, and presently caught sight in the far distance of the hill tower in which Major Endicott had been besieged. This was a clear signal that he must turn in a few minutes.

Just as he was on the point of wheeling round, both he and Fazl simultaneously gave a shout. Rounding a bend of the track, about five miles away, was a column of marching horsemen. The sun flashed upon polished metal. Lawrence lifted his field glass, and after a brief glance through it uttered a second cry: he had recognized the British khaki. In the joy of this discovery he ventured to fly on for another two miles under engine power, then shut off the engine and made a gradual vol plané down to the track, alighting at an open spot about a mile from the head of the advancing force. By this time the whole of the column was in sight. It was very small in comparison with the vast horde against which it was to be pitted; there were not half as many men as he had seen within five miles of the mine, to say nothing of the thousands marching up from the north. But he noticed that it had two field guns, and a mountain battery carried on mules; and if only it could arrive in time, he had little doubt that British arms and pluck and discipline would triumph even over the great host of the enemy.

Leaving the aeroplane under Fazl's care, Lawrence hastened forward towards the column. To his still greater joy he recognised in the officers marching at the head, Major Endicott himself and Captain Fenton. They were trotting forward to meet him. The Major had one arm in a sling.

"All well?" shouted the Major from a distance.

"Hard pressed, but still holding out," replied Lawrence.

There were hearty hand-clasps when they met.

"I was afraid we should be too late--had no end of a job to get this scratch column together," said the Major. "How far are we from the mine?"

"About thirty miles, I think."

"I hoped it was less. We've been marching all day, and the horses can't possibly do thirty miles without a rest. Just tell me how matters stand, will you?"

"When I left, about three-quarters of an hour ago, my brother had just been forced back into the mine."

"Did he leave it, then?" interrupted the Major.

"Oh yes! He has till now held the enemy off some distance down the track. But their artillery was too much for us, and we're now in the last ditch, so to speak. Bob has blown up the bridge, so the enemy can't get across immediately; and my little Gurkha has done a good deal of damage among their guns with bombs; but the track is now open to them; they'll bring more guns up, and be able to pound us at point-blank range. We've lost a good many men; we've only a few rounds of ammunition left for the machine gun, and precious little for the rifles."

"Dynamite?"

"I've got the last of it in four bombs in the aeroplane."

"Can't your men shelter in the galleries from the enemy's bombardment?"

"For a little while, no doubt. But what I'm afraid of is that the enemy will find some means of crossing the river during the night: if they do it's all up. There appears to be a general directing operations, and after being baulked for a week he won't be satisfied until he's made a clean sweep of us."

"It's touch and go, evidently. What do you say, Fenton?"

"We couldn't do thirty miles on this ground in less than six hours if the horses were fresh: and if we push on at once they'll collapse before we're half way there. We must have at least a three hours' rest."

The Major pulled at his moustache meditatively.

"Aren't we near that place where you had your smash, Appleton?" he said suddenly.

"Yes; it's a few miles down."

"Then I'll tell you what I'll do. A lot of these fellows with me are used to work on the Indus. I'll get them to make a big raft like the one your Kalmucks floated the aeroplane on, and send on a dozen in advance. The current will gain us three miles an hour; the men should get to the neighbourhood of the mine about three. If you could manage to meet them and carry them in relays into the mine they'd be of great use. I'll give you some ammunition, too. Fly back at once: the knowledge that we're coming will buck your men up; and the rest of us will hurry on as soon as possible."

On reaching the aeroplane, the whole force dismounted. Lawrence was introduced to Captain Coats, the army surgeon whom he had heard mentioned in the frontier house. While some of the men placed in the cockpit as many cartridges as it could carry, others went into the wood to cut timber for the raft. Lawrence had some difficulty in starting the engine; but it ran smoothly after a little while, and taking a cheery leave of the officers he started for the north.

He had come within about five miles of the mine when a prolonged miss-fire made it imperative to descend at once. Luckily there was just room for him to alight at the edge of a small wooded tract. He was the more perturbed at the delay because he heard distinctly the dull rumble of artillery fire in the north. Stripping off his coat, he began with Fazl's help to overhaul the engines. Apparently the defect was in the carburetter, but for some little time the precise origin of the mis-fire was undiscoverable. Meanwhile the depths of the valley were already shrouded in dusk, and Lawrence, never having attempted a flight by night, became more and more anxious as time went on, lest he should be overtaken by complete darkness before he regained the platform.

At last the defect was ascertained and remedied. Lawrence had just put on his coat, and Fazl was in the act of replacing the plugs, when there was a sudden volley from the wood near by, and six wild and haggard Kalmucks came towards the aeroplane with a rush. The Gurkha went on calmly with his work: Lawrence snatched up his rifle and fired. One of the attackers fell; the rest dashed on only the more furiously, howling like famished animals. Lawrence fired again; Fazl started the engine; both then sprang to their places, and pressing the throttle Lawrence set the machine gliding forward.

By this time the Kalmucks were within a few yards. Fazl stooped for his rifle, to take a parting shot at them. As he rose he noticed that an extraordinary thing had happened. Just as the aeroplane was lifting, one of the Kalmucks, outstripping the rest, had taken a grip of the chassis, as if attempting to drag it down. He retained his grasp a little too long, and was carried up into the air. Fazl now saw him convulsively drawing himself up to clutch one of the stays of the main plane.

What had happened was hidden from Lawrence by the projecting planes. Fazl made no sound; but there was an odd look upon his face as he quietly slipped a cartridge into the breech of his rifle, took careful aim at one of the four men on the track below, and brought him to the ground.

"Tchigin, sahib," he said.

"Never mind about the Kalmucks," said Lawrence. "Just fill up the tank, will you?"

Fazl laid down his rifle, took a petrol can, and poured its contents into the tank below the pilot's seat. There was nothing of haste or excitement in his manner. He tipped the can until the last drop was drained, and having set it down, rubbed his hands on his coat. Then he drew his kukuri, and bent over slowly towards the Kalmuck, who was clinging to the stay in grim and speechless terror. Fazl gazed steadily into the man's eyes. He lifted his terrible weapon; there was one swift whizzing stroke through the air; and the lost man fell headlong into the river, three hundred feet below. Fazl wiped his blade.

"What's that?" asked Lawrence, as the aeroplane gave a sudden upward jerk.

"Nurla Bai, sahib."

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-EIGHTH

THE LAST FIGHT

Lawrence landed in the twilight on his platform. All sounds of combat had ceased. His first care was to see exactly how much petrol was left. There was enough for about twenty minutes' flight: then the aeroplane would be doomed to inactivity.

"Look over the machine," he said to Fazl, "and come after me when you have finished. What did you mean about Nurla Bai?"

"He has gone into the river, even as he sent the huzur."

"You shot him? But no: you did not fire. What happened?"

"He came along with us, sahib. He caught the chassis as we rose, and we were gone before he could let go. He clung to the stay. I cut him down."

Lawrence's blood ran cold with horror. In spite of the man's brutalities and crimes, he could not but feel moved by the terrible fate that had befallen the revolted miner. It was well deserved: yet Lawrence wished that Nurla could have met his death in open fight. He said no more to Fazl, but went along the pathway now enwrapt in darkness, to discover what had happened during his absence, and to give the garrison his promise of relief.

The compounds were deserted. No lights were visible. At first he thought that the men must already have taken refuge in the galleries; but as he came to the end of the pathway he saw them all grouped at the rear of the house under the cliff, behind a mound of tailings. They were very silent. Only a sound like a multitudinous sigh broke from them when he drew near.

"Where's my brother?" he asked anxiously, as Gur Buksh saluted.

"Here, sahib: he is hurt."

The group parted, and Lawrence saw Bob with his head and one arm bandaged, reclining in a long chair.

"Nothing very serious, I hope," said Bob with a smile, as Lawrence bent over him. "A bullet in my arm just below the shoulder, and a whack in the skull from a splinter of rock. Any news, old chap!"

"Yes, thank God! Endicott himself is within less than thirty miles, with three or four hundred men, field pieces and mountain batteries. There's a medico with him, so we'll soon put you to rights."

"Tell the men, will you?"

Lawrence gathered the men about him and quickly gave the information. A company of British soldiers would have received it with a ringing cheer: these Asiatics merely murmured praises to Allah, mingled with triumphant execrations of the enemy.

"It'll be as much as we can do to hold out until the Major arrives," said Bob in a low tone. "Is he coming on at once?"

"No, unluckily. His horses were dead beat: he said they must have three or four hours' rest, and I'm afraid he can't be here until four or five o'clock in the morning at the earliest. But he has sent some ammunition, and a dozen men are coming in advance on a raft; they should arrive about three o'clock. I intend to meet them a little way up, and bring them in on the aeroplane. I've just enough petrol left."

"That's good. We're practically helpless here. They've knocked the wall about with their field pieces from the breastwork, and smashed the machine gun. We couldn't hold the wall any longer. The carbide has given out, so that we can't make any more acetylene for the searchlight, and the track's free for them now. I only hope that as they've forced the passage they won't trouble us any more, but go straight ahead in the morning. They little suspect what's in store for them!"

"They may possibly leave us alone, but they're hardly human if they don't try a shot or two at the aeroplane, especially when they discover what has happened to their own."

"What did happen to it, by the way?"

Lawrence described the incidents of the manoeuvring up and down river, and the extraordinary scene at the turning-place. It was then that he and Bob argued about the cause of the final collapse, almost forgetting their actual circumstances in discussing the scientific problem. They were suddenly recalled to realities, however, by sounds from the opposite bank--the ringing clatter of horses' hoofs and the rumble of wheels.

"They're moving their guns up," said Bob. "No doubt they've only been waiting for the dark. Listen! We shall soon know what they mean to do."

Both chafed at their inability to impose any check upon the movement. Rifle fire from their few men would be ineffective in the darkness; it would moreover be a signal to the gunners to sweep the wall with shell. They were not long in doubt as to the enemy's intentions. The noises ceased. It was clear that the Kalmucks were going to wreak vengeance upon the garrison of the mine before continuing their march up stream. Bob recalled the old military maxim: never leave an enemy in your rear. At dawn they would no doubt open fire from the guns placed exactly opposite the mine, and as soon as they discovered the aeroplane on its platform beyond the shoulder of the cliff they would smash it to atoms.

"I've still a few bombs left," said Lawrence. "I might destroy their guns if I could only see them. Isn't there enough acetylene for ten minutes' light, Bob?"

"Not for one, worse luck. You certainly can't do anything in the dark. There's just one chance, though."

"What's that?"

"You could light a big fire on the buttress yonder. It might show just enough light for the purpose."

"I'll try it. I tell you what: I'll fire the shed itself, with a lot of combustibles inside. We can easily build another afterwards if Endicott gets rid of the enemy."

"We shan't want to do that. If we're alive to-morrow morning we shan't think of staying here any longer."

"Leave the mine, you mean?"

"Yes: take poor old Uncle's silver ore to India and sell it for what it's worth. I don't know how much that will be, but it ought to give us enough money to keep us while we're looking round for some other job: I've had enough of mining. In any case we couldn't stay here. The place would remind us too much of Uncle and all the tragic horrors."

"You're right: though I don't like the idea of caving in. Now I'll get some of the men to carry grease and things to the shed. Can Chunda give me some grub? I'm very hungry."

"We've got all our provisions either here or in the galleries. We were very lucky to have so much; it will last for two or three weeks more."

While Lawrence made his supper, Fyz Ali and three or four other Pathans conveyed to the platform combustibles of all kinds, returning with the ammunition sent by Major Endicott. Then Bob insisted on Lawrence's sleeping for a few hours. About three o'clock in the morning Lawrence returned with Fazl to the aeroplane. They kindled several fires in the shed, leaving the door open. When the flames gave them light enough, they started the engine and flew off up the river, hearing sounds of commotion among the enemy on the track. Never having flown by night before, Lawrence was rather nervous; but he reached the turning-place safely, wheeled round without mishap, and flew northwards into the stretch of a few hundred yards now illuminated by the blazing shed.

There were four bombs left. Lawrence had instructed Fazl to drop two as they passed over the guns, reserving the other two for use as they returned if they should discover that the first had not been effective. They saw two guns placed on the track just opposite the bridge. The Gurkha, leaning over perilously, let fall two bombs together. There was a terrific crash and a babel of yells; but they could not yet tell what damage had been done. The aeroplane was beyond the illuminated area, and Lawrence had to concentrate his attention on the machine as he flew northwards in the darkness. He felt that he could not risk an attempt to turn until he reached the wide space seven miles down stream, and he was very anxious lest the engine should fail for want of petrol before he could get back. It was quite clear that to bring Major Endicott's advanced party of twelve into the mine was now impossible. By the time the aeroplane should have reached its platform, if it did so, every ounce of fuel would be used up.

For safety's sake he rose to a considerable height. The grey light of dawn was stealing over the summits of the hills. He turned and flew back, watching the engine nervously. As soon as he came to the neighbourhood of the mine, he saw the enemy scuttling away from the track into nooks and crannies in the face of the cliff. The sound of the propeller had been the signal for a general sauve qui peut. Fazl dropped his last two bombs opposite the bridge, and then the aeroplane passed into the cloud of smoke drifting up and across the river from the conflagration.

Lawrence saw that the petrol would not last another three minutes. He utilised the expiring power of the engine to rise still higher, so that when it failed he would be at a sufficient altitude to make a long vol plané back to his platform. He had just turned when he detected a lessening of power. The engine began to splutter; then it ceased to work.

It was a terrifying moment. In the darkness he could not read the aneroid that indicated his altitude. He did not know whether the angle of the descent which had already begun would bring him to earth before he reached the platform. Gently, easily as the machine swooped down, it might land him on the track where he would be completely at the mercy of the enemy. He looked anxiously ahead. The flaming shed came in sight, but dimmed by the pall of smoke that lay over the bottom of the gorge. He steered into the smoke towards the platform, but, half blinded by the reek, he missed it, and only by a sudden movement of the lever, that was itself almost disastrous, did he save the machine from dashing against the cliff. Luckily the smoke hid him from the enemy. By another dexterous feat of steering he rounded the bend, and in a few seconds dropped with a quivering shock upon the fence that separated the Pathans' from the Kalmucks' compound. With every nerve jarring he sprang out of his seat. Fazl followed him, and between them they dragged the aeroplane from its uneasy perch and laid it behind the fence. Even now his chief thought was to protect from the enemy's fire the machine which had served him so well. Only when it was quite invisible to them did he hasten across the compound, scale the second fence in the darkness, and rejoin his brother in the sheltered nook behind the house.