Again he flew on up-stream, a second time he came to the wheeling place, and was nerving himself to attempt a landing without guidance in the dark when, as the machine came round, he saw a sudden burst of flame in the distance at a spot where no light had been before. It brightened moment by moment, and he thrilled with relief as he discerned, to the left of the blaze, the dim outlines of the shed in which he was accustomed to keep his tools and other accessories. Some one, perhaps the Babu, he thought, had had the presence of mind to guess at his dilemma. He steered straight for the light, which he now distinguished as a large fire kindled on the rocky buttress projecting into the stream. It illuminated the whole of the landing place, and he knew that by once more passing down and up, and ascending to a sufficient height, he could time his downward glide so as to come gently to rest at the desired spot. Twenty minutes later he tottered from his seat on to the platform, almost to fall into the arms of little Fazl, the Gurkha.
"Salaam, sahib," said the man. "I knew the trouble. The sahib is very tired."
"Dead beat, and half frozen," said Bob. "You must help me back to the compound; my legs are stiff."
Fazl assisted him along the cantilever pathway, midway in which they met several of the garrison who were coming, somewhat late, to assist in the landing. At the end of the pathway, in the compound, there was a group consisting of Ditta Lal, Chunda Beg, Gur Buksh and one or two more, who stepped forward to welcome Bob; but when they noticed his worn features and stiff movements, and the absence of Mr. Appleton and Lawrence, the words of congratulation died on their lips.
"Where is the huzur?" asked one.
"Is all well, sahib?" said Chunda Beg.
"Sir, has fortune proved unkind?" murmured the Babu.
"Go to the house; I will tell you all there," said Bob. "Havildar, silence those noisy ruffians on the other side. Tell them nothing. Chunda Beg, get me some brandy: I am half dead. All of you, don't talk. I want Gur Buksh, and you, Ditta Lal, to come to the house in a quarter of an hour. I shall be all right then, and I've a great deal to say to you. You, Fazl, go back to the aeroplane, give it a thorough cleaning, and fill the tanks. Thanks for your thoughtfulness in lighting the fire."
"Ah, sir, he stole a march on me," said the Babu. "If I had not been lapped in slumber, inspiration would have made me busy. But Fazl did very well--very well, that is, for a man without a degree, hall-mark of acumen, sir."
CHAPTER THE TENTH