"Belle! Belle!" He was out of the house once more, through the garden, down by the huts. Was it a year, or a minute ago, that he had passed that way, running, as now, to be in time? Or were past and present nothing but a bad dream? One of those endless nights from some unknown horror which survive a thousand checks, and go on and on despite perpetual escape? No, it was not a dream! The last time there had been a low curve of earth before him where now nothing showed save a dim yellow flood sliding so smoothly that it seemed to have been sliding there since time began. Each step bringing him nearer to it brought him nearer also to despair. Then, just as he had given up hope, on the very brink, so close that one clenched hand hung over the water, he found her lying as she had fallen; found her none too soon, for even as he stooped to raise her, another few inches of loosened soil undermined by the current fell with a dull splash, and he realised that ere long the river would have turned her forgetfulness to death.
Lifting her as best he could in his arms, he paused an instant to consider what had best be done. One thing was certain, neither house nor hut was safe until time showed the temper of the survivors. Yet help and remedies of some sort he must have, and shelter too from storm and night. He thought of Kirpo, but decided not to trust her. A lucky decision, since to seek her would have been but waste of time, as, recognising her husband among the rioters, she had fled into the jungle with her child. The servants might be found if fear had not dispersed them, but where in the meantime was he to leave Belle? At last his thoughts returned to the old Khân. He was faithful, and if he had recovered might at least keep watch while Philip sought other help. Besides, not far from where he had left the old man, Philip had noticed a reed shanty built against the abutment of the dam, and so hidden from the sight of all save those coming from that side. He determined therefore to carry Belle thither, and if he could find Mahomed Lateef to leave her in his charge. This was no easy task, for Belle, unconscious as she was, proved an awkward burden over such a rough road, and it was a great relief to be able to lay her down at last in comparative shelter and assure himself that she was still alive; for, as he had struggled on, the dead weight in his arms had filled him with apprehension. The next thing was to find the Khân. Here fate proved kind, and within a few yards of the shanty Philip came upon him, battling against the wind yet finding breath for a running fire of curses on all idolaters. To cut short his gratitude and explain what was wanted took but a moment; the next saw Philip hurrying towards the house again, since, if the rioters returned, time might run short. It did, despite his hurry, so that after vainly searching for the servants, he was still rummaging for more ammunition and (most potent weapon of all) for money, when the sound of advancing voices warned him to be off. Thanks to the almost blinding dust there was little fear of being seen in his retreat; yet when, on reaching the shanty, he found Belle still quite unconscious, he recognised that the most difficult part of his task had yet to come. He had brought back a few comforts snatched up hastily as he made his escape, and now set to work to force a few drops of brandy down her throat, wrap her in warmer garments, and chafe her cold hands and feet. To do so he had to unclasp the fingers of her right hand by force and withdraw something she held in it. This, without giving it a glance, he slipped into the breast-pocket of his coat and so continued his efforts. After a time her colour became less deathlike: she moaned once or twice, turning her head aside as if to escape from some distasteful sight; but beyond this there was no change, and the hope of her recovering the shock sufficiently to aid in her own escape seemed very slender. Nor did Philip wonder at her collapse when he thought of what it must have been for her to stand by helpless, and see those who had left her in anger swept away into the unforgiveness of death.
"Huzoor" whispered the old Khân, who in deference to inviolable custom had been sitting with averted face in the doorway, where, shivering from the chill of the wind through his wet clothes he had been considering the position carefully, "We must get out of this. To sit here will have us crippled with ague by dawn. There is my pony; I will go fetch it from the huts. Perchance they may not see me; perchance they would not touch me if they did, for Râmu--the man I killed, Huzoor--hath no blood-kin in these parts, and death cools friendship. Besides, their wrath will be only against white faces. When I am gone ten minutes, lift the mem, and make for the dip in the south road by the nullah. If all goes well, you will hear hoofs ere long. But if these fools are set on blood, make your way as best you can due south. Eight miles, more or less, keeping the left bank till you see a square-towered house. Give this to the women; they will obey it."
He took the talisman signet from his thumb, and slipping it into Philip's hand left the hut. The next ten minutes seemed interminable; and the relief of action when it came was great. This time Belle proved an easier burden, when wrapped closely in a shawl and lifted leisurely. Once amongst the tall tiger-grass in the nullah he rested his knee against a high tussock and still holding her in his arms waited anxiously, for he was now on the direct route to the house and liable to come across a straggling rioter at any moment. The risk, however, had to be run, as the only available bridge over a cut from the river lay a few yards further on. Sheltered by the high grass, Philip's eyes were practically useless to him, and the pony's hoofs being deadened by the sand, it needed a low whistle from the Khân to bring him out on to the road beside the pink-nosed pony.
"Give me her here, across the pummel, Huzoor," said the old man briefly. "Your legs are younger than mine, and time is precious. So, gently! Mashallah! I have seen women carried thus before this!--women who gave the rider more trouble than she is like to do. Now, if you are ready, Huzoor; for though 'tis dark enough there will be a blaze ere long. Those low-caste, pig-leather-working dogs had got to the sahib's brandy-bottles, and you know what that means."
"Did they try to stop you?" asked Philip, when after crossing the bridge in silent anxiety they struck into the comparative safety of the jungle.
The old man grunted softly, his anger tempered by the necessity for caution. "By the twelve Imaums they said I was afraid!--I, Mahomed Lateef Syyed!--that I was sneaking away! And I,--I never even called them pigs."
Despite his anxiety Philip could not resist a smile, partly of confidence, for no better proof of the Khân's resolution to bring Belle safely out of trouble could have been found than this unparalleled meekness. So they went on swiftly. Philip at the bridle-rein, the old Khân supporting Belle partly on his arm, partly by a dexterous arrangement of his scabbard, over which the old man chuckled as if in contented reminiscence of bygone days. "'Tis as I said, Huzoor," he remarked pointing to a red flush rising behind them. "That is the bungalow roof. 'Tis well she is out of it so far." Philip thinking of all the horrors of the past few hours, and contrasting them with his memories of Belle in her pretty home, clenched his hands, wishing he were nearer. Perhaps the Khân's sympathy saw to his thought, for the old man went on in aggrieved tones, "And we get no good from it. Not even an honest set-to when the women are safe; for to-morrow the tâhseeldar[[9]] and the police will spoil sport. Besides, these shovel-diggers will be afraid of their own actions by dawn! Even now we are safe; safe as if we are driving down the watered road of a cantonment, our only care to convey this poor soul to woman's hands. Inshallah! The women have the best of it in your reign, Huzoor!"
"Well! some one will have to answer for the day's work," replied Philip grimly.
"Some one. Ay, that is to-day's law, and even of that I know not," grumbled the Khân. "For look you, Râmu and none else killed the sahib, and I killed Râmu, so that is done. The rest were peaceable enough, God knows, and you hang not for the bursting of bunds (dams) and burning of bungalows. There is no justice nowadays!"