And so it was settled to Hoosanee's distress, for, although he saw at once that it was necessary to the success of his enterprise that he and his master should separate, he would have preferred to reserve to himself the more dangerous part. As for Tom, while he felt that the arrangement he had proposed was the only one which offered any hope of a good issue to their task, he was thankful to have succeeded in sending off Hoosanee to the higher latitudes. In the meantime, Bâl Narîn was far more useful to himself than even his own servant could have been.
[CHAPTER XXXVIII]
THE SHIKARI'S DISCOVERIES
Very early the next morning the cavalcade divided. The released Ghoorka escorts returned to their regiments. Hoosanee, with good store of provisions and three mounted soldiers, went off in the direction of the pass, and Tom, accompanied by Bâl Narîn, turned off the main road to seek a byway through the jungle, which was known to his guide as having been used by criminals and fugitives, but which was little frequented by travellers.
It is the fortunes of this last detachment that I propose to follow, my chief authority being Bâl Narîn, whom I met a few years ago—an old man then, but wonderfully clear as to intellect and memory—in his native city, Katmandoo.
That it was a forlorn hope he had felt from the beginning, and nothing but his extraordinary regard for the young rajah, who, as he expressed it, 'held him by his eye,' would have induced him to go on with it.
I find that he and others looked upon Tom as perfectly mad at the time. Many Orientals, however, and Bâl Narîn was fortunately amongst their number, look upon madness as men of a later time have looked upon inspiration. The man himself, they think, is helpless, and the Divine speaks and acts through him. This, no doubt, in addition to his peculiar fascinating power, was the cause of the faithfulness with which Tom was followed more than once in his desperate enterprises. Having been prevailed upon to go forward, Bâl Narîn acted as Subdul Khan and Hoosanee and Ganesh, and even Gambier Singh, so far as possible, had done. He gave himself heart and soul to the task before him.
He spent the night before they started, not in resting, but in drawing out a plan of the Terai, as it was known to him, and making various imaginary routes to and fro, so that, in the future, he might be able to say that every spot within a certain area—the limits of which he did not think any fugitives from the Doab could have crossed—had been thoroughly explored. These he proposed to traverse, penetrating by the way into the solitary haunts of the half-savage Aswalias, whose language he knew, and of whose friendship he was sure. For if such travellers as the English girl and boy had passed through the more unfrequented ways, they would most certainly have been heard of. Even in the jungle and amongst half-naked savages, extraordinary pieces of news, as Bâl Narîn knew from experience, are apt to spread.
The following morning he detailed his plan to Tom, who listened with hope, and said that he would be guided by him entirely. That was a terrible day's march. To cross from the main road to the bypath that Bâl Narîn knew, it was necessary to plunge into the jungle, and the coolies had here and there literally to hack a way through it for the horses and camels. Comparatively open spaces, which Tom would have set himself to canter over gaily, were carefully avoided by the Ghoorkas, and Bâl Narîn told him that they were dangerous morasses, into which he might have disappeared without hope of rescue. It was still worse when they reached tracts where the vegetation was larger, for now giant creepers flung down from the trees sinuous arms, with thorny leaves that cut into the flesh of the coolies who hacked them away, and that, when they touched the flanks of the horses, made the poor creatures plunge and snort with pain. The closeness of the atmosphere, the dank vegetable smells, and the effluvium from decaying growths, were almost unendurable. There was danger, too, from the dwellers in the jungle. A man-eating tiger, had one been abroad that evening, would have made short work of these weary men. So, when the darkness began to gather, they set torches flaring to frighten all evil things away, and far off in the cavernous recesses of the jungle-kingdom they could hear the dull roaring of the disappointed beasts of prey. That night they rested as best they could, for Bâl Narîn refused to accept the responsibility of going on. With the first break of day, Tom, who was quivering through every nerve with fierce impatience, stirred them up. He found the Ghoorka soldiers, who believed themselves lost beyond hope of redemption, deeply depressed; but Bâl Narîn was in excellent spirits. He informed Tom that he had discovered some of his own traces—the marks he had set upon certain trees in one of his latest hunting-frays; and he knew that his instinct, by which alone he had been moving on the previous day, had not deceived him. He was making straight for the point he wished to reach. This was encouraging, even to the soldiers.