Front matter (continued 4)

"Is it possible?" Forrester asked.

"You will manage it. If I am not mistaken, a few hours' work with the iron will pierce through to the surface. Only take the greatest care."

"And what then?"

"There you have me! I haven't an idea. But I am inclined to think that your canny, close Scot is ready for us, has his plan of campaign thoroughly mapped out. I trust him the more because he has told us nothing. Well, you mount first--I'm afraid that's inevitable----"

"Of course----"

"I follow when you give the word, and I think our two young Chinese friends here will be men enough to join us. We make four: Mackenzie will have Jackson and your shikari, I suppose; your cook is useless as a fighting man?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so. He is rather a timorous creature."

"And my plucky little Tibetan--I'd be glad to think he might make one of us. But this is all guess-work: we can only be sure of six or seven. Obviously six or seven can't tackle two or three hundred well-fed Chinamen and some scores of negritos. Mackenzie has perhaps discovered the way down into the rift, and means us to slip off in the dark. Guess-work again! Let us leave all that. Take a good sleep; then tighten your belt, and ply that bit of iron to bore our passage. Please the Powers, we'll worm our way into God's air before twenty-four hours are up."

With no means of telling the time, Forrester slept brokenly, and was at work long before day had dawned above. To guard against danger from the falling earth, he got Wing Wu to demolish the sentry-box, and lay the material in gridiron pattern across the covering of the pit. Then, mounting into the chimney, he prised out the clay bit by bit, and afterwards the crumbling earth above it, cutting the hole to the shape of a narrow cone.

As the work progressed, the sound of running water grew more and more distinct. Forrester knew that if the bed of the stream were pierced, there would be a swift end to their tribulations. He could only hope for the best, and persevere. How long he worked he never knew; so much engrossed was he that he did not remember he had had no food. There was no sign of interruption. Beresford remained on guard in the outer cavern, listening for the footsteps of the Old Man's minions, the ministers of the Law of the Eye. But not a sound was heard from the direction of the lake. It seemed that the Old Man was content to bide his time.

It was a blissful moment when Forrester, thrusting the iron upwards into the earth, felt suddenly that there was no resistance. When he withdrew it, a thin slit of white light appeared at the apex of the cone. He had pierced the surface, and a great joy thrilled him, for he knew that he had not touched the stream. But he was instantly aware of a double danger. The hole, small as it was, might be seen. Even if it were not seen, a chance passer-by might tread upon it and break through. Would Fortune, he wondered, stand their friend? Nothing more, at any rate, could be risked while daylight lasted.

He descended, and hurried to give Beresford the great news. Beresford pressed his hand.

"To-night!" he said. "Now for these lads here."

Quietly, as though telling a tale, he informed the two young Chinamen of the bare fact that a way had been opened for them to the upper world.

"Will you join us?" he asked. "There are friends above. What may lie before us we cannot tell: we may have to fight for our lives. Will you take the risks?"

Wing Wu assented eagerly; free from the domination of the priests he was a different being. His cousin was less ready; on being shown the ladder, and the cross-bars rising one above another until they almost disappeared, he shook his head, declaring that he had no strength for the feat demanded. The others forbore to urge him.

"He will try when he sees the rest of us go up," Beresford remarked confidently. "Our plan is fixed? You mount first; at your signal we follow. You and I will take the negritos' spears. The only other weapons are the iron bar and the knife. Wing Wu can take the bar; the other man the knife. We wait only for darkness."

The period of waiting was trying to them all. Time after time Forrester went into the inner cavern, and peered up the perpendicular tunnel at the tiny streak of light. The elder Chinamen, dull-eyed and listless, merely wailed for food. The two negritos paced restlessly about the larger cavern, looking again and again through the entrance towards the farther end of the ledge, now silent and deserted. More than once Forrester went to the cleft to see whether his last message had been drawn up; but the bone remained where he had laid it. This added tenfold to their anxiety, for without the co-operation of their friends they would be like men lost in a wilderness. The chimney, indeed, penetrated to the open air, not to a roofed chamber; but at what spot, whether in an unenclosed field, or in a walled garden or courtyard, they had no means of telling. Without a guide, they might as well be in Minos' labyrinth. One consideration, however, prevailed over all others: to remain below was to starve; above ground, they could at least die fighting.

At last it seemed to Forrester that the streak above was becoming fainter. He stared upwards, until convinced beyond doubt that the shades of evening were falling. Quickly the light faded. All was dark.

He rushed to the cavern to tell Beresford, then hurried back, mounted the scaffolding, and with his spear slightly enlarged the hole at the top. The gurgle of water struck more loudly upon his ear. A footfall startled him, and he held his hand in sickening dread that the fatal discovery was made. The sound passed and died away, but the scare made him defer further work until later, when he might suppose the enemy were sound asleep.

When every minute seemed an hour, it was impossible to gauge the flight of time. But, all allowances being made for their impatience, Beresford judged that three or four hours had passed before he suggested that it was now safe to resume operations. Once more Forrester scraped away at the hole. The glimmer of stars lent him encouragement and hope. Inch by inch the earth fell away; he pushed his hand through; at last, in quivering suspense, his head. He drew in great gulps of the sweet air, that was like champagne to him after the noisome atmosphere below. And with eager eyes, little above the level of the ground, he looked about him.

It was very dark; only a faint shine from the stars thinned the blackness. Almost at once he became aware that while the view before him was unobstructed, it was shut out behind by a mound of earth. From beyond this he heard the slow wash of the stream, and he gasped with thankfulness that the iron had escaped the channel, apparently by inches.

Nothing was in sight but the dark shapes of bushes, arbours, and the pile of buildings beyond. He was holding himself rigid, listening for sounds, wondering what he must do, when a slight, slow hiss struck upon his ear. Was it merely the rustle of the breeze? It came again. His message had not been received; no friend, it seemed, could be awaiting him; if the sound were human, could it proceed from anyone but an enemy?

He waited, tense, watchful, scarcely breathing. Then he started, for a few yards away, at the base of the embankment, a dark shape was stirring. Instinctively he tightened his clutch upon the spear, though he knew that with only his head above ground he could do nothing to defend himself. His one precaution was to sink down until only his eyes and scalp were above the surface.

He could not yet distinguish whether the form was that of an animal or of a man. It lifted itself, became gradually erect, and moved very slowly, almost imperceptibly, towards him. Then he began to recognise something familiar and friendly in the shape; he raised his head a little; a rush of hot blood made him dizzy; and he almost swooned with unspeakable joy and thankfulness when he heard a whisper in old Mac's well-known voice.

A rush of hot blood made him dizzy, and he almost swooned when he heard a whisper in old Mac's well-known voice.

"Dick!"

"Be careful!" Forrester murmured anxiously. "Don't come too near. Your weight may break through."

"Now, quick! How many do you muster?"

"Beresford and two Chinamen. There are others--helpless."

"So! Bring up the able-bodied, and make for yon summer-house; you see!--a yard or two away. Wait for me there."

Mackenzie crept silently away: he never wasted words. Not till afterwards did Forrester learn how the patient Scotsman had prowled about the grounds nightly in order to guard against the contingency that had actually happened--the sudden appearance of the prisoners above ground. Hamid Gul had accidentally dropped the string down the grating when trying to tie it to a bar, and having no more to spare, could neither send nor receive a message.

Forrester withdrew his head, and set to work to enlarge the hole for the passage of his shoulders. It was an unexpectedly slow process. He dared not hack vigorously for fear of bringing a mass of earth tumbling in upon him, or of piercing the embankment and letting down a deluge. But he picked away patiently until the gap was large enough to scramble through.

Then he gave the long-awaited word, and heaved himself to the surface. In spite of his care, a chunk of earth broke from the edge and fell down the chimney, breaking and scattering on the bamboos laid across the slab. Beresford waited a moment or two; then he mounted, without accident, and after him Wing Wu. The three men crouched near the hole, waiting for Chung Tong to appear. It seemed that he would never come. Time was flying; the dawn could not be far off. Presently they heard an ascending scale of sighs as the Chinaman, pricked by fear of loneliness to follow them, climbed the bars one by one, each upward move accompanied with a sigh. When his head emerged, Forrester and Beresford caught his shoulders, and heaved him through, not without disturbing clods that fell with ominous thuds, just audible, on the screen.

Forrester lead the way stealthily to the summer-house indicated by Mackenzie. There Mackenzie and Jackson, with Hamid Gul, were awaiting them. For a few moments speechless greetings passed between the reunited friends; their hearts were full; feeling was too intense to find expression in word. When Mackenzie at last spoke, there was an unusual huskiness in his tones.

"Come now, listen, all of you. We are in a garden; there's a seven-foot wall around it. Beyond the wall is a larger enclosure. That's where the buildings are. Dick, you and I are going through Hamid's quarters and the kitchen into the pagoda. We are going to collar the Eye!"

A thrill shook them all.

"Hamid knows where it is. If we canna do it, we capture the Old Man, and hold him as a hostage. There's a sentry in the antechamber leading to his apartments. There's another at the principal outer door, which opens to the enclosure yonder. They're likely fast asleep. We'll no meddle with the man at the principal door. The other--we'll have to deal with him. If there's an alarm, the rest of ye just bolt for yon door, and do your best to hold it against the priests. If the sentry has gone inside, one or two of ye follow him up. You've got arms of a sort: you can change 'em for the two-three things we've brought if you like 'em better. It's touch and go, ye ken. We must be swift and sure. We canna fight hundreds; but with yon old de'il's Eye in our possession, we can defy him and his priests too. Bob, you'll be in charge here, and this gentleman--Mr. Beresford, I presume--will likely give you every assistance."

"You may be sure of that," said Beresford.

"Well, that's all. We'll shed our boots. Then, Hamid, lead the way."

Mackenzie took a hoe from a bench; Hamid was armed with a kitchen chopper. They went out, followed by Forrester with his spear. Stealthily crossing the garden, they scaled the wall, dropped lightly on to the grass, and crept across to the door of Hamid's quarters. From this they passed into the kitchen, and thence into the passage.

At the further end was a door on which was a huge lock. But, as Hamid had noticed on his daily visits to the inner apartments, the lock had long since fallen into disrepair, and been replaced by a single latch worked from the inside--eloquent testimony to the fear inspired by the Eye. The point of Forrester's spear, passed through the space between the door and the side-post, sufficed to raise the latch. Mackenzie cautiously pushed the door open, not without a slight creaking, and signed to Hamid to pass through before him.

The cook, nerved by the presence of the sahibs, led them into a corridor dimly lit by small oriental lamps. On bare feet they stole along by the wall, towards the door at the further end. A priest was squatting there, with knees up, and head down bent. Mackenzie drew from his pocket a woollen pad--it had been borrowed from his blanket--and two or three short pieces of cord. These he handed to Forrester with a significant look. Then, stealing forward in advance of Hamid, he crept up to the dozing sentry, and with a sudden swoop clutched him round the throat before he had time to utter a sound. Forrester, just behind, stooped and thrust the gag into his gaping jaws. They turned him face downwards, and a few rapid twists of the cord left him trussed like a fowl at the doorway.

Stepping over him, they pushed the door gently. Mackenzie peeped round its edge. The ante-chamber within was empty. Through this they tiptoed. The door at the further end yielded to their touch, and they passed into a second ante-chamber, lit by more lamps than the first. A slight but prolonged creak as the door opened came near to being their undoing, for thirty feet ahead, at the entrance to the Old Man's apartment, sat a second sentry, whom Mackenzie had not allowed for; and the sound roused him from his slumber. He rose lazily, without any sign of alarm, expecting vaguely, perhaps, that his colleague without was coming to pass an hour with him. But Mackenzie realised that nothing but extreme quickness could save the situation, and even as he darted forward to tackle the man, the latter let out a loud shout of alarm. It was his first and last cry. Mackenzie drove at him with the full strength of muscles hardened by weeks of spade work, and he fell like a log.

Meanwhile Hamid, with Forrester close at heel, had run on into the inner chamber--the sanctum in which the Old Man of the Mountain slept, ate, and meditated on the Law of the Eye. Like all old men, he was a light sleeper. His functionary's cry had awakened him, and as the two men burst in, they saw his thin, wizened, almost ghoulish frame half risen from his golden couch. The lamplight fell upon his blazing eyes, wide with wonder, resentment and, when he caught sight of Forrester, fury. Hamid shrank before his paralysing glare, retaining enough presence of mind, however, to lift his trembling arm and point to the golden lattice behind which the fantastic head-dress reposed in its recess, illuminated by its own special lamp.

The Old Man observed the movement. His expression changed; it might have been said that terror spoke for the nonce from that cold, mask-like countenance. With agility amazing in so decrepit a figure he leapt from his couch, and darted towards the sacred recess. But Forrester was too quick for him. He sprang to the wall, turned his back so as to cover the lattice completely, and raised his spear to meet the expected attack.

He sprang to the wall, and raised his spear to meet the expected attack.

For one moment the Old Man glared upon him with eyes that cut like knives. Then, with a sudden swift movement that took Forrester utterly by surprise, he sprang towards a richly gilded hanging that covered the adjacent wall. Forrester wrenched open the lattice, seized the head-dress to make sure of it, and, oblivious for the moment that his incautious handling of it might shiver him to dust, darted after the retreating figure. The hanging swung aside, closing immediately behind the Chinaman. Forrester heard a slight click, and when he drew the curtain aside, was confronted with nothing but a bare wainscoting of panelled wood. The Old Man was gone.

CHAPTER XIX

THE FIGHT IN THE PAGODA

"Put the thing down! Put it down!" cried Mackenzie, rushing in and seeing the head-dress in Forrester's hands.

"But----"

"Yes, I know; but put it down! Any moment the Eye may open! Be careful, now! Ah!"

He heaved a sigh of relief as Forrester set the head-dress down on the golden table.

"Where is the Old Man?" he continued.

"He went through there," Forrester answered, indicating the spot.

"A secret door! Well, we'll waste no time seeking that. Let him bide. We must discover how he works the Eye."

"What did you do with the priest?"

"Tied him up with his own girdle. I don't think we made noise enough to waken anybody else. Hamid, just run along to the kitchen and block up the door."

"And bring me something to eat, if you can," Forrester added. "I'm famished: have had nothing for more than twenty-four hours: none of us has."

"Och, that's bad. You can't work on an empty stomach. Fetch here all you can, Hamid, and be quick about it.... Now, man, for the Eye! If we can only find out how the thing works, we have the whole caboodle at our mercy."

"Turn it towards the golden lattice; it won't destroy gold, I know that," said Forrester. "And keep behind it, in case of accident."

Standing over the head-dress, they began to examine it, at first with their eyes alone. Then Mackenzie ventured to pass his fingers round its base, feeling gently for the spring or secret button by which he supposed the shutter or eyelid of the Eye was opened. Gradually working upwards, in the course of a few minutes he had left no portion of it untouched except the Eye itself, which he was careful always to avoid.

"How the dickens does the thing work?" he said at length, thrusting his hands into his pockets and contemplating it with a puzzled frown. "We'll not find out without taking it to pieces, to my thinking."

"Does it matter?" asked Forrester. "The main thing is that we've got it, and the Old Man hasn't. Besides, those fellows outside will be getting anxious. Where is Sher Jang, by the bye?"

"In his hut. I wished I could bring him, but he shares the hut with three others, and I didn't dare fetch him out by night in case they smelt a rat and followed him. The fewer the better, to begin with."

"I say, it's nearly morning. Look!"

A faint light was creeping in at the windows high in the wall. Time had passed more quickly than they had been aware. Soon the Old Man's menials would come to extinguish the lamps, and the priests would issue from their dwellings and go about the work of the day.

"What now?" Forrester asked.

"We must get our men inside, fasten the door, and hunt about for the way below. If we once get away with the Eye, we can come back any time and release all the prisoners."

"We can't leave those poor wretches in the cavern to starve. Ah! Listen!"

From somewhere outside came the harsh clangour of a gong.

"The signal to get up!" said Mackenzie. "There's no time to lose. With or without the Eye, we must act. Yon little door leads to the entrance, no doubt. You had better bide here and watch over the head-dress. You might also try to discover how the Old Man gets from here to the judgment seat below. There must be a stairway somewhere. I'll go along to the front, and bring in the others."

"What if the Old Man comes back, or any of his priests?"

"Och, show them the Eye! That'll be enough, I doubt. You've got your spear, too. I'll bring our men here as quickly as possible, and we'll barricade ourselves and get a breathing space to find the way out. Send Hamid after me."

He hurried through the door at the end of the room opposite to that by which he had entered. It opened into a vast central hall. Ranged along the sides were a number of curiously carved chairs, richly ornamented with gold. The walls were decorated--or rather, perhaps, disfigured--with inlaid figures of the Monster. Half-way down the hall, on the left, was an immense golden throne, like that in the underground Temple.

Nobody was in sight. An arch at the further end led to a broad aisle and the great central door. A priest was in the act of throwing the door open. In the half darkness, with his eye fixed on the priest, Mackenzie failed to notice a couple of steps between the central hall and the entrance lobby. He slipped, and though he recovered himself instantly, the noise was sufficient to attract the priest's attention, and he turned round. The sight of a white man rushing towards him hoe in hand from the direction of the inner sanctum seemed to paralyse him for a moment. Then he wheeled about, and fled with flying skirts through the open door, shouting as he went.

Mackenzie sprinted hard in pursuit, not from any particular wish to catch him, but anxious about the little party waiting in the summer-house. When he issued from the door, he saw the priest running towards a wicket gate in the garden wall. Before he reached it, it was opened from the inner side by a priest of the second order. The running man dashed through, shouting to his colleague as he passed. The latter looked up, saw Mackenzie within a few yards, and turning on his heel, fled away at full speed, leaving the door open and the key in the lock. In a few moments both the priests had rushed across the bridge and disappeared through the open wicket on the further side.

Mackenzie made straight for the summer-house.

"Come!" he cried, seeing Jackson peering round the door. "The whole lot of you! Through yon gate!"

The four dashed out, Jackson leading. Chung Tong moved more slowly than the rest. Mackenzie caught him by the neck, and shoved him along. He paused to shut and lock the gate, then herded the party across the courtyard into the main entrance of the pagoda. When all were inside he flung the door to, locked and barred it, and said:--

"Now, Mr. Beresford, I'll ask you to keep guard here. You're hungry, I know; I'll send you something to eat. The rest of us are just going to find the way to the rift. You don't object?"

"I'm at your orders," answered Beresford. "Forrester is safe?"

"He was three minutes ago. I'm away!"

The thought of Forrester inadvertently opening the Eye urged him through the hall at the speed of a greyhound. Jackson and Wing Wu followed him: Chung Tong dropped heavily into one of the golden seats that lined the entrance lobby, and groaned.

In the Old Man's apartment Forrester was eating a kind of patty which Hamid had just brought on a well-laden tray from the kitchen.

"Take some food to Mr. Beresford at the door--some water too," cried Mackenzie. "All quiet, Dick?"

"Yes. I can't find out how----"

"Dinna fash yersel' with it, man," Mackenzie interposed. At moments of excitement he was apt to relapse into his native idiom. "Bob, and you, mister, take a keek all round for the way below stairs. I'm away to the kitchen. Eat as you go."

He rushed off, anxious to see whether Hamid had secured the back entrance.

"Hech! the fathead!" he exclaimed, when he saw that the cook had merely barred the door; and looked around for material for an effective barricade. In a recess near the stove lay a number of logs of wood. Dragging these out, he jammed them between the door and the opposite wall of the narrow passage.

"That will give them some work," he thought.

Then he rushed back to his friends. Forrester was still feverishly trying to discover how the Eye worked. Jackson was absent. Wing Wu, munching a patty, had just returned from a rapid run through the building.

"Well?" cried Mackenzie.

"Sir, I cannot find either doors or staircases," said the Chinaman.

"Any men?"

"None but the two priests on the floor."

"That's well. Hullo, Bob!"

Jackson was staggering in under a load of arms. The call to action had made a very different man of him.

"By Jinks!" cried Mackenzie. "Where did you find 'em?"

"In a little room beyond. There's a crowd of things of all sorts--pikes, swords, a small armoury."

"A jolly good find!" cried Mackenzie, "But you haven't got our rifles!"

"No; I didn't see them. There's no ammunition for these ancient muskets, but they'll come in useful, perhaps, as clubs."

"No doubt about that," said Forrester, looking up from the head-dress. "It sounds like coming to a fight, Mac."

From without came the dull hubbub of distant voices. It was clear that the whole community was roused. The windows were too high in the wall for any of the party to see what was going on outside, but the increasing noise told that the priests had left their lodgings, and Mackenzie guessed that they were massed in the garden beyond the locked gate. They could know nothing of what had happened within the pagoda. No doubt they were bewildered and alarmed, wondering why the foreigners who had dared to profane the sacred floors of the August and Venerable had not instantly been shattered to dust by the omnipotent Eye.

"Will they scale the wall and attack us?" asked Jackson.

"Maybe, when they discover that we're in possession," said Mackenzie. "But at present you may be sure they're just wandered. They don't know what to do until they get word of the Old Man. What's happened to him?"

At this moment a fierce howl of fury penetrated the walls.

"What's up?" exclaimed Forrester. "Get on my back, Mac, and look out of the window."

Mackenzie mounted. The noise had swelled to a pandemoniac babel.

"The whole gang of them are in the garden yonder," he said. "They're looking up towards the roof, yelling like fiends; I never saw such rage on such ugly faces. I'll run to the door and see what maddens them."

A minute later he emerged quietly into the courtyard, hidden from the priests by the intervening garden wall. Hastening to a spot where the whole upper portion of the pagoda was in view, he gazed up. The roof was built in three great tiers, one above another. From the second to the third a winding stair led to the summit, upon which there was a small square platform, fenced with a balustrade of ornamental gold work. The bent form of a frail old man was painfully climbing the last few steps. Mackenzie watched him. He gained the top, leant for a moment on the balustrade to rest, then stood with hands uplifted, looking in the distance like a quaint figure carved in ivory. His bald scalp had no protection; his wizened features were twisted in agony and despair. And there the Old Man remained, mute and motionless, gazing down upon the upturned faces of his two hundred priests.

Mackenzie slipped back. As he was relocking the door, Beresford said quietly:--

"I'm not a panic-monger; but do you know that if those yelling shavelings out yonder break through our hole, in a couple of seconds we shall all be blown sky-high?"

"Good heavens above!" ejaculated Mackenzie, aghast. "And we can't prevent 'em!"

"Only by warning them. I speak Chinese: I will go out and tell them."

"You'd never get the chance. They'd tear you limb from limb before you'd got a word out. But I tell you, now. There's a fellow here. Come away!"

He hurried Beresford through the hall and the Old Man's room to the door, outside which the bound priest still lay.

"Tell yon Chinky," he said: "then I'll kick him out."

Beresford very gravely explained to the shuddering Chinaman what the result of an incautious step would be, and advised him to set a guard over the hole. Then the man was bundled out, and the door again made fast.

Mackenzie told what he had seen.

"Was the Old Man urging them to fight?" asked Forrester.

"No; he's done! Not a kick in him, seemingly. Without the Eye he's just a poor wee body. What they'll do I cannot tell; but we'll have another look for the stairway in the meantime."

Leaving Forrester still wrestling with the problem of the Eye, Mackenzie and Jackson ranged through the building from end to end in search of doors in the walls or trapdoors in the floors. After several fruitless minutes they were returning to the sanctum, and suddenly became aware that the noise outside had subsided.

"What's that mean?" cried Jackson.

The words had scarcely left his lips when the great door at the end of the aisle resounded under a loud and violent knocking.

"It means war, I doubt," Mackenzie answered. "Go and join Mr. Beresford, Bob. I'll bring the others with some of those arms you discovered. We must keep the Chinkies out at all costs."

He raced back to the inner room. Forrester had already left the head-dress, and seized an ancient pike.

"No, no, Dick!" cried Mackenzie. "Stick to your job, man. I'm no good at puzzles myself. We will need that Eye! Hamid, you and your chopper, away to the kitchen door. I doubt they won't come that way because the passage is narrow. If they do, make a bit use o' your chopper, then run and tell me. Awa' wi' ye! You, mister" (addressing Wing Wu), "lift yon musket, or a scimitar, or whatever ye like best, and come. Forget all about the priests and their conjuring tricks; you've got an arm; then fight like the de'il."

While speaking he had clutched an armful of weapons, and led the way back to the great door, with Wing Wu close at heel. Like Jackson, the young Chinaman was a new man now that he was no longer subject to the baneful influence of the priests.

"Here, take your pick," Mackenzie cried on reaching the others, displaying the weapons. "By good luck the door's thick; it will stand a fair amount of battering. Mister, can't you get yon friend of yours to take a hand?"

He pointed to Chung Tong, who had roused himself to work steadily through the eatables brought by Hamid Gul. Wing Wu spoke to him, urging, imploring him to choose his weapon; but he turned a dull eye, and munched on.

"Give me a lift, Mac," said Jackson. "I'll see what they're doing."

On Mackenzie's shoulders he looked through a window.

"The garden is swarming with them," he said. "They're hoisting one another over the wall. They're armed with all sorts of things--picks, rakes, hammers, swords, knives; some seem to have bars of gold! They're all making for the door."

"Are they avoiding our hole?" Beresford asked anxiously.

"Yes; there are two men standing over it, warning off the others as they run by."

"What did you mean about an explosion, sir?" Mackenzie asked of Beresford.

"There's a pit in the cavern. Out of it come rays like those from the Eye. They decompose water: what you sent down nearly made an end of us. A greater quantity would have shivered the whole place to atoms."

Mackenzie drew a long breath.

"They know it, thank goodness!" he said. "Anything new, Bob?"

"No: they're still running this way. There must be some near the door I can't see. They all look as if they're expecting something to happen."

The last words were drowned by an explosion that shook the building.

"Gunpowder! The door!" cried Mackenzie.

Jackson sprang down. They were all far enough from the door to be out of danger. There were cracks in the timber, but it still held together. A howl of wrath and bafflement rose from hundreds of throats outside.

"They'll try to burst in," said Mackenzie. "I'll take the left: you the centre, Bob: Mr. Beresford the right. Mister Chinaman," he added with a grim smile, "will act as reserve."

They placed themselves, awaiting the assault. Some minutes passed. Outside there was confused and fitful shouting. Then all at once the door creaked under a heavy blow.

"A battering ram!" cried Jackson.

"Ay! Stand clear!"

The blow was repeated again and again. Splinters and slabs of wood fell inward; and at each successive breach a yell of triumph broke from the mob outside. Without firearms the defenders could do nothing to check the destruction. At last the remnants of the door crashed in, and the assailants in a serried mass crowded the entrance.

The full light of morning was behind them: the defenders had some slight advantage in the dimness of the aisle, lit only by a few narrow windows high up in the outer wall. It soon became clear, too, that the priests were not accustomed to the use of weapons. For generations, no doubt, the servants of the Eye had relied on it as their sufficient defence. But they were Chinamen, infuriate, reckless; their ferocity made up their lack of skill, and as they came on with strident yells, wielding whatever weapons they had been able to snatch up, the Englishmen recognised that they had need of all their strength, experience, and resource to stem the human torrent.

Mackenzie had a heavy musket, Jackson an antique sword, Beresford a pike--unfamiliar weapons, all of them. But there was no space for the display of science, even if they had had it. The Chinamen dealt in smashing blows and sweeping cuts. In grim silence the white men parried, thrust, jabbed, smote, to such purpose that in a few minutes a barrier of prone figures was heaped up between them and their howling foes. And all the time, unknown to them, their reserve was strengthened. At the first sight of the invading priests all listlessness fell from Chung Tong. He sprang up, seized a sword, and stood beside his cousin, glaring at his oppressors, and only waiting an opportunity to wreak on them the vengeance long stored in his brooding soul.

For the first few minutes the defenders held their own. There was a slackening in the attack; the bolder spirits in the van had fallen, and barred the way against their comrades behind. But as the ranks thinned slightly, two or three carrying muskets pushed their way from the rear, and thrusting the barrels between the men before them, fired haphazard into the aisle. Mackenzie let out a cry, reeled, and had not recovered himself when one of the priests with a yell of fiendish joy lunged at him with a pike. In the nick of time Jackson threw himself forward, struck the weapon up with his sword, and gave the Chinaman the point.

Wing Wu seized the chance. He leapt to the spot Jackson had vacated, and brought the butt of his musket down on the skulls of the enemy with a vigour that Mackenzie himself might have envied. Chung Tong could no longer remain idle. Slipping in between his cousin and Beresford he laid about him, with more fury than lustiness. The assailants fell back; the men who had fired withdrew to reload; and the defenders, thankful for a breathing space, tried to gather their flagging energies to meet an assault which they felt would tax them to the uttermost, and in all probability would overwhelm them.

Meanwhile, in the inner sanctum, Forrester had been trying with feverish impatience to discover the secret of the Eye. At the sound of the explosion he could scarcely refrain from rushing to the door; the din and clash of fighting made him tingle; he almost snatched up the weapon nearest to hand and hurried to share the risk and the strife. But he knew how much depended, in the last resort, on the Eye; his sense of discipline was strong; and having tacitly accepted Mackenzie's leadership he checked his impulse and bent all his energies again upon the baffling problem.

When, however, he heard the shots his endurance gave out. Smothering a cry, he placed the head-dress on the table, seized a sword, and was on the point of rushing out towards the scene of action. But in a flash of thought he remembered the Old Man, who might have descended from his perch and be lurking within the panelled wall, ready to spring out and seize his precious instrument. To leave it unguarded would be madness. There was a moment's hesitation; then Forrester lifted the head-dress, rammed it carefully but firmly down upon his head, and thus covered, sped towards the great door sword in hand.

He dashed through the arch into the aisle at the moment when the priests were swarming again to the attack. As he reached the upper step, to encourage his hard-pressed friends he let forth a great shout, that rose shrilly above the cries of the enemy. Placed somewhat higher than they, he was in full view. The leading priests glanced towards him. They recoiled, stared for an instant in silent stupefaction, then with one consent cast down their weapons, and flung themselves prostrate on the floor.

CHAPTER XX

BURSTING THE BONDS

It was Beresford that was quickest to profit by the instinctive act of veneration inspired by the sight of the head-dress which use and superstition had made a symbol of awful authority and power. Stepping forward, he spoke in slow, grave tones over the heads of the grovelling multitude.

"The Law of the Eye must be obeyed," he said in Chinese. "It changes not from age to age. As its minister, I bid you withdraw on your faces from the portal which you have polluted. You shall not stand upon your feet until you reach the wall yonder. Then you shall hear the judgment of the Master of the Eye."

The priests began in silence to crawl back towards the garden wall. Mackenzie and Jackson, after a few moments of breathless suspense, smiled wanly at each other. Forrester, meanwhile, realising with amazement the wonderful effect produced on the crowd by the mere sight of the head-dress, had at once checked his pace, and now moved down the aisle with all the dignity he could muster, and stood motionless in the doorway, in full view of the priests. When they rose to their feet and saw him there, a shiver shot through them.

Forrester stood in the doorway, in full view of the priests.

"We must carry it through," Beresford murmured hurriedly. "Say two or three words slowly and in a loud tone, and extend your hand towards them. Keep up your dignity as Master of the Eye."

"Arma virumque cano," recited Forrester, reflecting rapidly that while some of the priests might understand English, Latin would probably be unknown to them.

Beresford bowed to the ground. Then lifting himself, he spoke in Chinese.

"Hear the decree of the Master of the Eye. The slaves shall depart from this place, with provisions, arms and gold, sufficient to carry them to their homes. The Master of the Eye, and we his servants, will accompany them. If any man of you molests our party, or seeks to stay our progress, he shall suffer the last punishment."

The priests heard his words in silence. Their eyes were fastened immovably on the august head-dress.

"I must go down to the cavern and bring up the wretches there," said Beresford in a rapid undertone.

"Wait, wait, it's not safe," cried Mackenzie, wincing with the pain in his wounded arm. "Send them all back to their houses first."

"He's right," said Forrester. "Who knows but some of them will go for you in a frenzy!"

Beresford calmly gave the order; Mackenzie flung to the priests the key of the wicket gate, and they slowly passed through it, crossed the garden and the bridges, and retired into their dwellings on the farther side.

Forrester heaved a great sigh of relief. "The blessed thing won't work," he said. "If they only knew it!"

"They don't! Your appearance was a stroke of genius," said Beresford.

"Not even a lucky fluke!" said Forrester. "I put the thing on to keep it safe. It's plaguey heavy: may I take it off now, d'you think?"

"Surely, for a few minutes at any rate--out of their sight. We must decide rapidly on the next step."

They withdrew a few paces into the aisle, leaving the two Chinamen to keep watch on the priests. Jackson meanwhile did his best to bind up Mackenzie's wounded shoulder. Forrester put the head-dress on the ledge of the golden throne, and linking arms with Beresford, walked slowly towards the doorway.

"Have you found the way down?" asked Beresford.

"No. There's no sign of doorway or staircase, is there, Mac?"

"None whatever."

"Then we must make the priests tell us," Beresford went on. "When I have got the prisoners from below, we must tell the slaves--I fancy by the noise that they are already in a great state of excitement beyond the wall. We'll send them down first into the rift and ourselves bring up the rear. One of the priests will have to guide us, of course."

"And the negritos?"

"They can go too if they choose. But I fancy that as the aboriginal inhabitants of the plateau they won't care to migrate."

"The Old Man?"

"Ah! What shall we do with him? We might fetch him down, I suppose, if we can find his secret door, and take him with us, though I don't know in the least what country would have the right and privilege to punish him as he deserves. On the whole I think we had better let him alone, report the whole matter when we get back, and leave the governments to squabble among themselves about the ownership of this valuable region.... But what on earth's the matter?"

They heard frenzied shouts from the direction of the sanctum. In a few moments Hamid Gul came into view, running like a deer, and screaming "Hai! hai!" at the top of his voice. The Englishmen turned to meet him.

"By Jinks! He's got our rifles!" cried Forrester, in delight.

"But his cries sound more like fright than jubilation," said Beresford, puzzled.

"Well?" Forrester asked, as the Bengali rushed up panting, and thrust a rifle into his hand.

"One-armed bald-head, sahib!" he gasped. "Hai! my lungs and liver! With rifles in arms, lucky find in cupboard, I come through old gentleman's bedroom. Sight I saw knocked me silly, sahib. One-armed josser lost all his hair: bald as basin; went slap bang into wall, sahib."

"Wen Shih?"

"Identical and no mistake, sahib, though hardly knew him without wig. And he had in hands old gentleman's funny old----"

"What!" broke in Forrester with a shout, glancing towards the spot where he had laid the head-dress. It was gone! Behind the throne a panel stood open in the wall.

"He's got it! He's taken it to the Old Man! We're dished!" cried Forrester.

Instinctively he took a few rapid paces towards the sanctum. But he remembered in a flash that he had been unable to find the door in the wall. He started back, in his agitation not knowing for the moment what to do for the best. Then suddenly his eyes fell on the rifle Hamid Gul had thrust into his hands. With a rapid jerk he threw open the chamber. It was full of cartridges, just as when he last had it in the rift.

His friends stared in amazement as he ran to the door, leapt over the fallen priests, and rushed into the courtyard. They followed him to the entrance. He was looking up into the air. On the far side of the enclosure the priests had emerged from their houses, and were standing in silence, gazing intently, eagerly upwards. When Forrester reached the wall he turned about, set the rifle to his shoulder, took steady aim, and fired. A dead silence followed the reverberations of the shot; then a yell of rage burst from the throng of priests, and they came leaping in one tumultuous mob towards the garden. At the same time, far to the left, a dark, bearded figure jumped down from the top of the outer wall, and rushed straight towards Forrester, spade in hand.

Forrester stood for a few seconds steadily gazing up, and the spectators in the portal saw his face pale, and a strange look come into his staring eyes. Then he shivered as though a blast of icy wind had struck upon him, and ran staggeringly back to the doorway. A moment behind him Sher Jang dashed into the pagoda.

"I hit him!" Forrester said under his breath, in the hushed tone of one who has witnessed a tragedy. "He was carrying the head-dress up the stairway to the Old Man. He rolled from roof to roof, and plunged down, down, he and the head-dress, into the rift."

He sank into one of the seats, and stared dully at the floor.

"Quick, you men!" cried Beresford, taking instant grip of the situation. "The rifles! The Chinamen are at us!"

"Have you got our revolvers, Hamid?" asked Mackenzie.

"They are there, sahib. I could not carry----"

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

The priests were swarming across the garden, jostling one another in the narrow gate, leaping towards the pagoda. Infuriated at the loss of their colleague, just promoted to the higher rank, and at the trick played upon them, they knew that the "foreign devils" no longer had the Eye at their command, and already gloated over their slaughtered bodies. Venting shrill cries of frenzy, they made straight for the entrance, reckless and without order.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XXI

DOOM

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

Behind the leader marched the old zamindar with his daughter, and the whole body of slaves, Chinese, Tibetans, Indians of all castes and none. They were light-hearted, even merry; the reaction from black despair was extreme. Every man bore his load. Many had stinted their supply of food, to cumber themselves the more heavily with gold; for in the final sack of the pagoda they had seized upon every golden article that was portable.

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

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

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

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

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

"I hope Redfern recovered," said Jackson.

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

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

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

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

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

"Nobody heliographing, surely!" exclaimed Forrester.

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

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

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

"A tent it is!" answered Forrester. "And by Jinks! they've seen us! They're mounting horses! They're galloping down!"

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

"The Assam Light Horse!" Jackson declared.

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

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

"And McIlwaine!" Mackenzie chimed in.

"And Paddy!" from Jackson.

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

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

"You old frauds!"

"Dashed unfair!"

"You've had all the fun!"

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

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

"A pretty set of scarecrows, by Jove!"

Redfern and Beresford clasped hands in silence awhile.

"You're thinner, Harry," said Redfern at length.

"You're not looking very fit yourself," answered Beresford. "Had a shake, old man?"

"Rotten! You're quite sound, eh?"

"Yes, thank God! There's a heap to tell you. What were you doing on the hill?"

"Camping for the night. We've done fifty miles since morning. Were coming on to-morrow. Glad we're too late, old chump!"

Presently, when all had cooled down, they fell to talking practically. It was near sunset, and they decided that Forrester and his party should mount the hill and share the planters' tents for the night, the mingled mass of Orientals camping at the foot.

An hour later, gathered about the camp fire, the band of bronzed and stalwart young Englishmen listened raptly to the story told by Beresford. He related all the incidents of the weeks since Redfern was parted from him by the iron shutter. The silence of the audience was broken now and again by ejaculations of horror, rage, sheer amazement. When Beresford had finished, there were cries for Forrester, Mackenzie, Jackson in turn. Each added some detail of his own experience.

"And the villainous Old Man?" cried one.

"We left him standing like an ivory statue on his platform, surveying the wreck of his little empire," said Beresford.

"And the Eye--what became of it?" asked another.

"We don't know," Forrester answered. "None of us had the heart to look for the body of the poor wretch. I suppose the Eye opened; if it did, it is boring a hole somewhere in the rift."

"That one-eyed freak of yours is a trump, Dick," said a third. "We've always wondered why you kept the chap."

"Yes; I shan't forget him. The only grudge I have against Mac is that he didn't tell us in the cavern that Hamid was his postman above."

"Och! I'm not a bletherskite," grunted Mackenzie.

"I vote we go on to-morrow and wipe out the whole rascally crew," cried another.

"And chuck the Old Man into his pit."

"He's too tough and skinny to please the Monster."

"But I say, what about that gold-making concern? Why shouldn't we make ourselves millionaires?"

"I wouldn't go down there again if I came out Rockefeller and Vanderbilt rolled into one," said Forrester emphatically. "Looking back on it, I can't imagine now how I climbed that chimney. When I was near the top, and heard the water gurgling overhead----"

"Well, what of that?"

Before Forrester could reply, the darkening sky was lit up northward by a sudden blaze of light that brought everyone to his feet in consternation. As one of them afterwards remarked, it was like the blinding glare of ten thousand flashlights. It was gone in an instant, and the universe seemed plunged into utter blackness.

The men stood at gaze. Perhaps a minute after the flash, a roar like the gunfire of all the world's fleets rolled and thundered dully about them. The earth trembled beneath their feet. Presently the air became hot, and a shower of fine dust mingled with stones bespattered them.

"A volcano!" cried one.

"No; that is the answer to your question," said Beresford quietly.

"What do you mean, sir?"

"What we feared might happen, has happened. I haven't a doubt of it. Our mining must have weakened the embankment, the stream broke through and plunged into the pit, tons of water were decomposed by the mysterious rays, and the explosion has shattered everything with volcanic force."

"Ay, and there's the end of the Old Man of the Mountain," Mackenzie said gravely.

The workers in the Laibach observatory recorded a seismic disturbance, locating it somewhere in the steppes of Central Asia. No authentic information, accredited by responsible men of science, ever reached them. But in course of time fantastic stories came to this country in private correspondence, and found their way into the newspapers. They were pooh-poohed, laughed at, pronounced incredible. Certain adventurous spirits did indeed slip off with more or less secrecy and hurry by the quickest route to the unknown country watered by the middle Brahmaputra. A company was even formed in London for exploiting gold in that region; but it lived feverishly and died forlorn. Persistent explorers ranged over mile upon mile of desolate country in quest of a gigantic waterfall, a marvellous cañon, and a fertile plateau that was said to be inhabited by an aboriginal race of pigmies. Of the canon they found no trace; only a number of scattered bones, large and small, announced that human beings and strange monsters had once inhabited what was now a rocky waste. A hitherto unknown river was discovered, broken for miles of its course by foaming rapids; but rapids are not waterfalls, as everybody knows.

In his rooms at Cambridge Henry Beresford sometimes shows his visitors a painted tablet from Khotan, and some strangely inscribed rolls of parchment. If pressed, he will tell a singular story, which they listen to politely, and with murmurs of "How very interesting!" totally disbelieve. The fact is that neither he, nor his friend Captain Redfern, nor certain young planters in Assam, care very much to talk about the events of those few weeks when the currents of their lives were mingled, and danger welded them into a comradeship which nothing will sever.

Tailpiece

HERBERT STRANG'S STORIES

STORIES OF THE GREAT WAR

FIGHTING WITH FRENCH: A Tale of the New Army. FRANK FORESTER: A Story of the Dardanelles. A HERO OF LIÉGE: A British Scout in Belgium.

ROMANCES

PALM TREE ISLAND: A Story of Adventure in the South Seas. THE ADVENTURES OF DICK TREVANION: A Story of the Smuggling Days. JACK HARDY: A Story of 1805.

TALES OF EMPIRE AND FOREIGN ADVENTURE

THE AIR SCOUT: A Story of National Defence. THE AIR PATROL: A Story of the North-West Frontier. TOM BURNABY: A Story of the Congo Forest. SAMBA: A Story of the Congo. SETTLERS AND SCOUTS: A Story of Adventure in East Africa. SULTAN JIM: A Story of Adventure in Central Africa.

ROMANCES OF MODERN INVENTION

KING OF THE AIR; or, To Morocco in an Aeroplane. ROUND THE WORLD IN SEVEN DAYS: The Story of an Aeroplane. THE MOTOR SCOUT: The Story of a Motor Bicycle. LORD OF THE SEAS: The Story of a Submarine. SWIFT AND SURE: The Story of a Hydroplane. THE FLYING BOAT: The Story of a Hydro-Aeroplane. THE CRUISE OF THE GYRO-CAR: The Story of a Two-Wheeled Motor Car.