Mohammed's Tooth/Chapter 8

T WAS blowing a gale of dry, cold wind when Narayan Singh and I left the cave. To the westward there was the last light of a yellow sunset on the bellies of aloof clouds—liars like the Hillmen, threatening a rain they had no notion of delivering. It was darker than a coal-hole underfoot, for the moon had not risen, and the rocks cast shadow everywhere. No stars yet visible, because of those high-hung clouds. No sense of direction; no guide but the feel of the wind on your cheek and, now and then, when we topped a rise, the crimson glow of flame in the throat of a cavern a mile away. A mile, that is, as crows are said to fly; about five miles by the route we had to take. The wind seemed to blow clean through you.

We scrambled and stumbled for about two hours, more or less in an arc of a circle, helping each other over steep places, and grateful for the shelter from the wind when the road—for that was what Narayan Singh called it, and he swore it was a good one for that neighborhood—dipped into deep hollows. How he found the way I don't know, for once he went more than half an hour without catching sight of the crimson glow; but we halted at last and lay down in the eye of the wind on a ledge half-way up the side of the deep ravine opposite the cavern in which Kangra Khan and Joan Angela were supposed to be.

It was nearly, but not quite impossible to keep watch there, for the bitter wind made our eyes run; and it was so cold that when I borrowed Narayan Singh's rifle and took a sight along it just on general principles, I could not hold the foresight on the mark for trembling.

However, we could see the glow of the fire; and at moments, when we wiped our eyes, we could see men, or perhaps women, going and coming.

“They carry the loads out,” said Narayan Singh. “They march tonight.”

No sign of Grim. No sign of Joan Angela. Nothing to show that either she or he was over there. Both, for aught we could prove, were lying dead in the ravine, and about all that we could do was to hope and hang on. Now and then the wind swept down the ravine with such force that it nearly blew us off the ledge, and at last I grew rebellious.

“This isn't as close as we can get,” I said—down-wind into the Sikh's ear. “I'm going closer.”

I did not wait for him to object, but started there and then to clamber down into the ravine, not caring how much noise I made, nor seeking cover, for we were in shadow on our side, and sound was borne away so swiftly by the wind that none who might hear could judge our whereabouts.

None did hear—not even the man I stepped on, who was no more aware of me than I of him until he felt my weight between his shoulders and tried to squirm out from under. Narayan Singh dropped down beside me on another man, nearly breaking his back, and in a second we were fighting blind-man's-buff in total darkness, with long knives whickering to right and left, and nothing to be seen at all.

Narayan Singh clubbed his rifle; I heard the butt descend on something, and a cry as a bone broke. Then I thought I saw something at last—fired at it point-blank with the pistol—and hit a horse. No doubt of that whatever. It was a shod horse; it kicked, and struck sparks as it fell. Some one fired back at me, and then a voice said—

“By any chance is that you, Jeff?”

I would have known King's calm voice in a thousand! Narayan Singh exploded one great guttural monosyllabic laugh. I heard King calling off his men; and he had his work cut out, for we had injured three, and tempers run quick and high in those infernal hills. But he managed it somehow, and came in the dark to stand between us, smoking a cigaret, which he held very carefully in the hollow of his cupped hand.

“Let's hope Kangra Khan's men didn't hear your pistol-shot,” he said. “Where's Grim?”

I told him where I hoped Grim was, and he nodded.

“How many men have you?” I asked him.

“Fifty,” he said, “less three you've hurt. The rest have cleared off for home, but they stand no chance of getting there.”

“Grim thinks you're to the northward,” I told him.

“Couldn't make my fifty march,” he answered. “Our only chance is to nab Kangra Khan as he comes out. Tonight or never! Another morning'll see all the Hills out after our Waziris. I've promised these men, if they'll see this through, to try to lead them back across the border, where we'll let 'em take refuge until the situation clears a bit.”

“Any sign of Joan Angela?” I asked him.

“None. But there's somebody or something important in there, that they're keeping out of sight. By Gad, I'm worried about Grim. I should have seen him. The firelight betrays any one who passes the cavern-mouth. “Tell you what,” he said after a pause, “one of us should go close and find out.”

Narayan Singh volunteered for that duty almost before the words had left King's lips, but King suggested I should go too, because his men were none too pleased with us for having put three of them out of action, and it would be easier to calm them in our absence.

“Cover each other,” he said. “If you can, let Grim know where we are. When Kangra Khan starts to lead his men out, duck! for we'll ambush 'em, and there'll be wild work. Then see if you and Grim between you can't bag the girl and get away with her. If she's shot, that's kismet. Our best is the best we can do for her. So long.”

So Narayan Singh and I set out to cross the floor of that ravine, moving a lot more cautiously than when we dropped down to the ledge. The next we were likely to meet would be foes, not friends, and it was probable that Kangra Khan had his pickets posted within hail. Once Narayan Singh nudged me and we lay down listening; but all I heard was my own heart-beats, and the wind whistling overhead.

When we started again I could see about twenty men in front of the fire-glow, and it occurred to me they were taking long chances to stand silhouetted in that way, with enemies all about them in the hills. They seemed to be deliberately trying to attract attention. The same thought occurred to Narayan Singh.

“Let us hope King sahib sees them,” he said, coming close to whisper in my ear. “I think those Pathans have heard their friends are coming, and unless King Sahib is alert he may be caught between two fires.”

“You go back and warn him!” I ordered. “I'll wait here.”

The wind and darkness swallowed him, and I lay there on a flat rock hugging my pistol, with the owls swooping close to take a look at me—swerving down-wind and circling up again for another look. A jackal sniffed my feet, and yelped. The men in the cavern-mouth drank something hot out of a kerosene-can, passing it from one to the other and apparently laughing—although the wind carried all sound away long before it reached me. They were plainly feeling confident.

It was easier to watch from where I lay than it had been on the ledge, for the wind did not worry my eyes. I kept my gaze fixed on the fire-glow, hoping not to miss Joan Angela, or Grim, if either of them should pass in front of the fire. You could probably have fired a rifle within ten yards of me without my knowing it. My ears ached from the pressure of the cold wind. I was taken absolutely by surprize when a cold hand was laid on my neck from behind, and a voice said in Pushtu:

“The Tooth, Ram-is-den! Give me the Tooth, or I slay thee!”

Lord knows, men fight for idiotic reasons! I fought for that tooth from a savage's rain-washed skull as instantly and with no more argument than if it had been a regimental colors, or my personal fortune—using a jiu-jitsu trick, turning suddenly on my back and kicking upwards with both feet. Akbar bin Mahommed turned a summersault [sic] in mid-air, and when he fell I was on top of him, with my knee on his belly and his knife-wrist in my left-hand. He had not let go his knife, and I accept that as proof you could make a sportsman of him if you had the time, and took the necessary pains.

“Thou elephant, I joked!” he gasped when he could get some breath.

“How did you find me?” I demanded, working at his wrist to make him drop the knife.

“Peace, thou! Let me go! Nay, Allah's mercy! Break not my knife-wrist, Ram-is-den, or I am no more use!”

I eased on the wrist a little, and repeated the question.

“I heard a jackal cry. There was likely a dead man hereabouts. Not all the dead have been stripped yet.”

I eased the pressure on his belly, meaning to keep him on his back until I had the whole of his story, but he squirmed off the rock and out from under me, and though he did not offer to use his knife I covered him with the pistol. But he squatted down with his back toward the fire-glow in a gap between two boulders, and began chafing his wrist as if nothing at all out of the ordinary had happened; so I sat down too, where I could keep an eye on the cavern mouth beyond him, close enough to him to have touched him with the pistol-muzzle.

“Mashallah! Thou art strong!” he grumbled. “Lo, I am no weakling, but thou by”

“Where is the Hajji?” I demanded.

“Up yonder.”

“And the sahiba?”

“Up yonder.”

He jerked his thumb over his back. We were shouting at each other as if thirty yards apart, because the wind snatched words and took them scattering down the ravine.

“What then? Why are you here?” I demanded.

“Allah! To find thee! Why else? Where is the kaffir?”

He meant Narayan Singh, but that was no way to refer to a gallant man, so I ignored the question. I demanded news, and he told it in gasps and snatches, showing his teeth as he spat the words out, trying to make me hear without taking all down-wind into confidence.

“Sahiba in corner behind fire—back of cavern—guarded by women. Hajji—Kangra Khan—growing friendly. Suspicious at first, but Hajji gave him piece of stone, from near Ka'aba at Mecca. Kangra Khan thinks stone will bring luck, but Hajji whispered to me it will curse him. Orakzai Pathans—some say two hundred—some say twenty—sent word—coming tonight—from south, on way home. Kangra Khan waiting for them.”

We heard nothing; but Narayan Singh loomed suddenly out of the night and squatted down beside me.

“King sahib dejkta hai!” he shouted in my ear.

Akbar bin Mahommed heard the word, “King,” and brought his fist down on his thigh in excitement.

“Thou!—Sikh—thou has seen Attleystann King? Is he not to the northward? Where are the Waziris?”

“What then?” Narayan Singh retorted. “Tell thy tale, Pathan!”

“Allah! If only the Waziris were at hand! The Hajji said to me: 'Those Orakzai Pathans whom Kangra Khan expects may well be late, or may not come at all. If the Waziris should come, in the dark they might appear to be Pathans. Then Kangra Khan would sally forth to match with them, and there might be a fight and a rescuing!' Much may happen in the dark!” the Hillman added.

I turned to Narayan Singh, but could hardly see his outline. He laid a hand on my arm to draw attention to himself.

“Shall I summon King sahib?” he suggested.

I agreed, and he disappeared a second time, swallowed like a ghost before he had gone two paces.

“The danger,” I said, “is that Kangra Khan may send reliable men to see who the new arrivals really are.”

“Slay them one by one as they come scouting!” the Hillman retorted, brandishing his knife.

“No,” I said. “You must go back to the cavern and tell Kangra Khan that his friends are here and waiting for him to come out.”

“He will not believe me.”

“Trust the Hajji to persuade him.”

“Aye. That is better. The Hajji might come forth, and return, and report favorably. A great fellow is that Hajji. He convinces men!”

I was much too cold and afraid to take any satisfaction in the thought of a pitched battle in the darkness amid those boulders in that bewildering wind. But I could see no other hope, and it fitted in with King's suggestion. If we could solve the problem of persuading Kangra Khan to lead his men out, there was still the risk of shooting Joan Angela and Grim. The only time when they could possibly be distinguished from the others would be at the moment when they passed through the fire-light. The chance of persuading excited Waziris to spare the lives of those two, while at death grips with the rest, was remote to say the least of it.

However, there is always something you must leave “on Allah's knees,” as the Moslems have it. The question is, how much? And how much is your own responsibility? If we knew that, I dare say there would be a lot less shotted argument and sudden death.

Who could tell friend from foe in that ravine at night? There would be no moon for a long time, and then only at intervals between the racing clouds. No word of command could carry against or across the wind, and to that would be added the din of rifle-firing and the yells of excited Hillmen. Yet, if we should postpone an attempt at rescue until dawn, it would be impossible to pretend our Waziris were Pathans, and we would be so outnumbered as to make fighting hopeless. Moreover, if King was right—and he usually is—by daylight the tribes would be swarming to hound the Waziris to death.

“Allah be praised! It would seem to me Kangra Khan's hour comes tonight!” said Akbar bin Mahommed in my ear, exultingly. “As for thee, Ram-is-den, that Tooth is thy preserver. Allaho Akbar!”

I answered him, “Allaho Akbar” for courtesy's sake; for I liked him better than scores I know, who use their tongues to murder with, because they are afraid of knives. I wished him luck in his aim on Kangra Khan—another savage not by any means to be despised. And I wished them both at the, if that might do the rest of us the least good.

“Thou art a kaffir, Ram-is-den!” he yelled into my ear. “It is great shame to doubt Allah! These be His ways to try the hearts of men. What is a fight, or the darkness, to the Lord of all? Whom He loveth, He preserveth! Lo, He loveth me, and thou—thou hast the Tooth!”

He leaned across to slap me on the shoulder, and I have endured less tolerable pleasantries from gentler men.

HEN King came. He and Narayan Singh dropped down beside us, and we held a four-square conference in the hollow between tip-tilted rocks, King sitting where he could watch the cavern-mouth. His men were inaudible—invisible; but he said they were hiding all about us in the dark, and once I caught sight of a shadowy thing that might have been a rifle pointing upward.

“You understand,” said King, speaking Pushtu so that Mahommed bin Akbar might feel flattered, “I must stay with the Waziris. They'd run if I left them; and besides, I've promised. We'll engage as soon as the last of Kangra Khan's men are out of the cavern. But if we make a skirmish of it without a definite objective it'll end in our just being scattered, and morning will see our finish. I'm going to try to gain the cavern and hold it.”

“They'll only blockade you in the cavern,” I objected; but he swept the objection aside impatiently.

“We'll attend to the day, when day comes!” he answered. “You men have got to grab Miss Leich. Be good enough not to report to me without her, dead or alive. My objective is the cavern. That's our rendezvous. Who goes to the cavern now, to tell them their friends have arrived and are waiting for them?”

“I” said Mahommed bin Akbar.

“Good. But don't seem too positive,” King advised him. “Say you detected us in the dark, and that you think we're the Orakzai contingent. Then suggest to them that the Hajji is the man to find out for sure, because he has been to Mecca and was made immune from bullets. If they let him come on that errand, you stay up there. The Hajji should arrange some sort of signal with them, to be made from here as soon as he discovers whether we're friend or foe. We'll make the agreed on signal, of course, and when Kangra Khan's men come out, get as close to the sahiba as you can. Keep her out of the way of bullets if possible. Look out for Ram-is-den and Narayan Singh. Help them to rescue her. You understand all that?”

“Aye,” he answered. “But I should first slay Kangra Khan! His hour has come!”

King did not answer. He sat still, as he always does when he feels himself up against insuperable difficulty; much too wise to argue, or to do anything except to wait for a fresh development. But it was I who held the whip-hand in that crisis, though I little guessed what a rod I was laying up in pickle for myself.

“Slay Kangra Khan tonight, and you shall never have the Prophet's Tooth!” said I. “For I will break it between rocks and throw the dust down-wind!”

“Nay, Ram-is-den, that were a sin!” he objected.

“Unlike you, I am a sinful man!” I answered him. “I will do as I say. Tonight you must attend to the sahiba's rescue, ignoring all other issues. Otherwise, no Tooth!”

“Allah!”

“Allah witness it!” said I.

After that there was no further argument. Akbar bin Mahommed, with the Hillman's fatalistic recognition of an impasse, rose and went. King disappeared to talk with his Waziris, and Narayan Singh and I sat in silence watching the cavern mouth. It was half an hour before we saw Akbar bin Mahommed's back against the fire-glow, where the men on the ledge appeared to be suspicious, for they gathered around him and gesticulated.

It was several minutes before we saw one man enter the cavern, and minutes again before he returned with some one who towered and bulked above them all and by his bearing might be Kangra Khan. There followed argument—gestures—much pacing to and fro—he who might be Kangra Khan breaking away from the others at intervals and striding to the end of the ledge, as if to try and peer into the ravine.

At last Grim came out, easily distinguishable from the others by his Arab dress. He and Kangra Khan stood full in the firelight, Grim stock-still, Kangra Khan gesticulating, Finally Grim disappeared from view. Kangra Khan returned into the cavern, and the others spread themselves along the ledge. At the end of another fifteen minutes Grim sat down in the dark between Narayan Singh and me.

“Where's King?” he demanded.

King came presently, with two smelly Waziris at his back, who lay down on the rocks and watched us as if their eyes could burn up darkness and read our inner thoughts. They said nothing; gave us no greeting.

“The plan is,” said Grim, “that if you're Waziris I'm to trick you into staying here until morning, when in Allah's daylight Kangra Khan's men and the neighbors hereabouts will deal with you. But if you're the Orakzai contingent on your way home, I'm to build a fire where they can see it and show myself in front of it three times.”

“Fire, at once!” King ordered; and the two Waziris, who had followed him went off in search of anything whatever they might build it with.

Ten more minutes passed, and a pale moon began to glimmer through racing clouds over the summit of a ragged hill, before flames leaped up in a cleft among rocks on our right and Grim went to stand in front of it. He showed himself thrice as required, standing with his arms outstretched as if crucified. After the third time a man in the cavern-mouth took a firebrand and waved it.

“Now, you fellows!” said King, and with that he gave Narayan Singh his sword and disappeared at once to manage his Waziris.

Then Grim, Narayan Singh and I laid our heads together for a last swift conference.

“They'll come down by a sort of ramp—rough going—that slants downward into the ravine from the right-hand end of the ledge as we face it,” said Grim. “Most of their loads are at the foot of the ramp already, with a few on guard. But there's a path one man can climb at a time, that joins the ramp half-way up. It's so difficult they haven't posted any one to watch it.

“Joan Angela is watched by the women. I couldn't manage to get word with her, but I know she recognized me. As soon as they come out of the cavern the women will have to pick up loads. Kangra Khan is pretty sure to keep Joan Angela close by him, with a bodyguard of his best fighters. Our only chance is to lurk and surprize 'em. It's on Allah's knees. We've one chance in a million. Are we all set? Good. Let's go!”