The savage Pathans had at last to cut the bonds of Denis; but not from pity, but a selfish fear that their captive, by dying on the way, might escape from their hands without paying a ransom. The latter part of that terrible journey was to Denis like a horrible dream. It was in an almost swooning state that the once splendid-looking young Irishman was led into the rough hill-fort which, from its lofty position, was called the Eagle's Nest.
CHAPTER VIII.
PRISON LIFE.
A person of weak constitution might have sunk under such sufferings as Dermot Denis had had to endure; but he had a strong and vigorous frame. Walter, who had arrived some time before him, and who saw almost with horror the state of his unfortunate friend, as Denis sank on the floor beside him, was surprised at the rapidity with which the Irishman rallied when he had drained the contents of an earthen vessel which Walter held to his lips.
"I'll live to be revenged on them yet," cried Denis, raising himself to a sitting position, and shaking back the clotted hair from his bruised and bleeding brow.
Walter did all he could for his comrade, but that all was little, as he himself was in a destitute state. He pulled off his own shooting-coat to cover Denis, and by entreaties persuaded Ali Khan to bring a fresh supply of water, which he used in bathing the sufferer's hurts.
Denis surveyed his prison, more to see what chance it afforded him of future escape than what it could yield of present comfort.
Comfort! the word is a mockery! The room, or den, as Denis called it, was about twelve feet square, on an upper storey in the fort. There was a hole on the north side, about five feet above the floor, which admitted air and light; of course it was unfurnished with glass—in that place a luxury unknown. There was not even a scrap of matting on the dirty floor, not an article of furniture of any description; no fittings, unless one strong iron hook, which seemed to have been built into the stone wall, could be reckoned as such. Opposite to the hole was a door, which opened on a kind of ladder-stair which led down into the open court-yard. This court-yard was an irregular square; the side opposite to the prison was bounded by a high strong wall, loop-holed for muskets, with a massive gate in the centre, the only means of access to the fort. The remaining three sides of the quadrangle were supported by rude pillars of unhewn stone, supporting the upper storey. Under these pillars were open recesses, which seemed to be the common abode of the inhabitants of the fort and such animals as they possessed. The cow and her calf, sheep kept for slaughter, poultry, their half-starved dogs, women busy at their small primitive spinning-wheels, or engaged in cooking operations, men smoking their bubbling hookahs, or cleaning their arms, dirty children wearing more jewels than clothes, occupied these recesses, or the open space of the court. In the centre of all was the well, indispensable in a fort which might any day have to stand a siege in that land of blood-feuds and broils. A medley of sounds arose from the courtyard, barking and bleating, singing and swearing, the crow of the cock and the cry of the child. Such was the scene which the captives surveyed through the open door of their prison.
The view from the window, or rather aperture in the wall, was of a precipice, dotted here and there with thin clumps of brushwood—a precipice so deep that the dwellers in the Eagle's Nest defied an enemy to attack from that side, or a prisoner to make his escape. The window commanded a wild and picturesque view, but the captives were in no mood to think much of scenery then. They saw their den draperied with cobwebs, which had hung undisturbed for many long years. Insects crawled over the uneven floor and up the rude stone walls, and the air was alive with mosquitoes. The place presented a terrible contrast to Denis's luxurious home in his own green isle.
Even the gloomy privacy and silence of a prison were unattainable luxuries here. The door of the room occupied by the captives opened from the outside, and Ali Khan, after bringing the water, had unfortunately left it open. A fit of curiosity was on the residents of the fort. Afghans crowded up the narrow ladder-stair to gaze at the unfortunate Feringhees, and load them with insults. The room was crowded almost to suffocation with rude men and mocking, grinning children; whilst women, staring up from the court-yard, added their laughing comments on the appearance of the captives above. Walter endured the annoyance in silence; Denis hurled back insult for insult, but happily neither he nor his tormentors understood each other's terms of abuse. This misery lasted for nearly an hour, when happily some arrival in the Eagle's Nest diverted the attention of the intruders, and the Afghans swarmed down the ladder-staircase as hastily as they had swarmed up.