"About noon," was the reply of several. "She comes down before her time. Listen!"
As the man spoke, a deep hollow sound fell upon their ears. The wind blowing from the west, along the course of the great river, had prevented this sound reaching them before; but there could be no mistake now, and on passing a small eminence they saw the river in flood, from bank to bank, rushing rapidly along; while in the gap of the hill before them rose a column of mist, which increased as the wind lulled, and again was blown away as a gust came down the river.
"If there were time," said the leader of the new party with his men, who were running beside the horses, "ye should turn by the upper road, and make straight for Korikul, but it is too late now for that; and how are ye to cross the river?"
"Let us reach Narrainpoor first, and we will see to that," said Runga, quietly. "Away, some of ye, to Narrainpoor, and tell the fishermen to go on to the lower ferry with their gear. Their lives shall answer for the young Khan's if there be any delay, and I, Runga, declare it. Tell Krishna, the barber, to have his needles ready; there may be time to dress the Khan's wound. Ye remember him, children, how he slew the panther with his sword, and how ye all worshipped him. Away! we have to save his life; no matter what the flood is, we shall be cowards if we do not place him in the fort ere the sun sets."
The men he spoke to were Beydurs like himself. Indeed, Runga was not only a chief but a relative of the Rajâh of the Clan, then a very powerful one, which could bring twenty thousand men into the field. Runga Naik held the lower part of the western frontier with horse and footmen, and had been summoned to join the young Khan according to the tenor of his service to the State. He was a true adherent, not only because of his service, but because of his love for and admiration of the Khan, and this was shared by the people. It would be disgrace indeed if aught happened to Abbas Khan or his followers; and at their chief's appeal several of them dashed forward in the direction of the hollow booming sound and cloud of mist.
They were fleet of foot, and admirably equipped for tough frontier service. On their heads they wore conical caps of leather, which drew in by a string round the forehead and temples. Each wore loose leather drawers reaching as far as the knee, with a red waistband of strong stuff, and pliant sandals completed their costume. Some had sword and shield, with a knife in the girdle; others carried long matchlocks, with the powder-horns and bullet-bags hanging at their waists. Among rocks and brushwood they were invisible, and as the aspect of the country had suddenly changed, there were now granite rocks and brushwood enough to conceal a host of such men as they.
"Some of us had better stop here," cried the leader of the footmen, as they approached a small pass in the hill, "and wait for the rebel dogs if they come up."
"Do so, my sons," replied the leader, "but do not fire unless they make an attempt to pass you. And now, Khan," he said to the young man, as he pointed out a small village with some green rice fields around it, "that is Narrainpoor, and I vow an offering to Cháya Bhugwuti herself, if she allow us to pass her in safety. Cheer up now, and keep thy heart thankful, for all danger is past."
It was well, indeed, that the refuge was near, for Abbas Khan was past speech. He was faint and sick, reeling in his saddle at every stumble of his noble horse in the rough ground. Often he had patted its neck and encouraged it by his voice; and met with a response in a low whinny and a toss of the head; but now horse and rider were alike exhausted. The young Khan was conscious of nothing but a dull booming sound in his ears, which increased every moment, yet he clung instinctively to the saddle, and his standard-bearer's powerful arm alone had prevented him from falling to the ground for the last few miles. He had heard the Beydur's last speech with only a dim consciousness of what it meant, but he smiled faintly, and pointed to his wound, and to his mouth, which was parched, and was becoming swollen. Then Runga Naik dashed forward and returned with a number of men and a low bedstead; the young Khan was placed upon it, and borne gently into the village, while his charger was cared for by kindly men, who allowed him to nibble mouthfuls of the fresh green rice, as he passed on.
"See whom I have brought you, Bheemajee," said the Naik. "'Tis Abbas Khan, our young master, and a brave one too; therefore assist him, for he is badly wounded, and, notwithstanding, hath ridden through this fearful day without a murmur, true soldier as he is: but now he has fainted at last. Where is Krishna, the barber? He must see to the wound directly."
"I am here, Maharaj," said that functionary, stepping forward. "Show me the wound, and I will do what is needful."
They stripped him as he lay unconscious on the bed, and the stiff velvet coat being carefully removed, as well as the heavy steel morion, and his head bathed with cool water, the young man sat up, and at first looked wildly about him.
"Ul-humd-ul-Illa," said the standard-bearer, piously. "He wakes from his trance, and will live; but I thought he would have died."
"Not this time, friend," said the Khan, faintly enough, but with a cheery smile. "How much farther have we to go? Let me mount again and get on; we have yet far to ride, and I feel strong and well already."
"You are among my people now," cried Runga Naik, cheerily; "no more riding, and the fort is nigh at hand, where you will be safe for a long rest. Fear not, therefore; old Krishnajee will dress your wound, and they are cooking some kicheri. Praise to the gods! you are safe, my noble master!"
Then the barber performed his duty skilfully and tenderly. The wound was long, extending from the left breast across the left arm, and had bled much, but was not very deep. A few stitches were put into it to keep the lips together, a poultice of green herbs, carefully mashed, was placed over it, and a few bandages completed the simple dressing, which was borne, though it had been exquisitely painful, without a murmur.
The other wounded man was treated in the same manner, but he was weaker, and his wound was deeper, and a Mussulman fakeer who was present took charge of him carefully.
It was surprising to see how the young Khan had rallied; but his great strength of frame and vigorous constitution enabled him to conquer at last the weakness that had overtaken him, and after a slight but grateful meal, he professed himself ready to go on.
But now the old Patell interfered. "The mother river is raging," he cried; "do not ye hear her? and, indeed, the thunder of the cataract has increased as the wind fell. No one could attempt to cross the rapids below and live. My sons, be not mad! and let the lives the gods have spared rest here with us in safety. Go not to certain death!"
"Peace, Bheemajee!" returned Runga Naik, somewhat scornfully. "I have crossed the rapid myself when it was worse than it is now, and the mother has done me no harm. I tell thee there is no time to delay. Hark! dost thou hear that—and that? The enemy are at the pass, and there are only twelve men to hold it. Burma will not let them through if he can help it; but if they are many he must fail, and we perish. Ho! my sons," he cried to the people around, "who will swim with me across the ford? do ye fear?"
With a shout and yell, such as Beydurs only can give, a number of stout young fellows answered the appeal and ran for their bundles of gourds, which were always ready. "We are your children," they said, touching their master's feet and the Khan's; "we will take you over, and fear not. Let us go now. There is an hour's good light, and we can remain in Juldroog and cross by the lower ferry in the boat. Come!"
It was indeed time, for the first few shots in the pass seemed to be followed up by others, and the shouts and shrieks of the Beydurs sounded closer. "Away with ye," cried the Beydur Naik to the men who had accompanied him; "tell Burma to hold the pass with his life for half an hour, then to retreat to the Cháya Bhugwuti, and hold that till death, if needs be." And as the men departed, the Khan's bed was taken up, the horses sent on before, and the little procession, leaving the village, proceeded at as rapid a pace as the rugged ground would permit.
"If the pass is forced," said Runga to the Patell, "keep the wounded man safely concealed, and bring what men ye have to the entrance of Cháya Bhugwuti, and all of ye defend that. If Burma and his people are safe, fire two shots down the ravine over the ford, and we shall know what they mean."
"May