“Only a day at a time, at any rate, and any day may be the last. Think you are on the North-West Frontier, as that appeals to you so much. I’ll fight my battles, or rather scrambles, o’er again for your benefit. Do you mind telling me why it should be more comforting to be climbing, under equally unpleasant conditions, in the Suleiman Koh than in the Balkans?”
“I don’t know; it’s just the feeling,” said Zoe. “Oh!” stepping on a rolling stone and clutching at him wildly. “Oh, what shall we do? Look at that place in front!”
“It’s a bad bit,” said Wylie judicially. “I shall want both my hands free.” He was twisting the rugs rapidly into a long roll, which he passed over one of his shoulders and under the other arm. “Now if you could lend me the hat-pin I honourably restored to you this morning, I shall have nothing to think of but getting you across. Your brother has done some climbing, hasn’t he? Otherwise I had better take you over first, and come back for your sister.”
Zoe’s lips moved, but no sound came from them as she returned him the hat-pin, a good deal bent by its use as a peg, and he fastened the ends of the rugs across his chest. “Now, don’t be frightened,” he said cheerfully. “We’ll get you across all right. You may be quite sure you are much too valuable to the brigands for them to let you get killed here. Here’s your own particular pet ruffian coming to our help. What a blessing it isn’t Milosch! He would stop in the middle of the most awful places to gas about his self-sacrifice in lending his aid. And Zeko has a rope, too. This is first-class.”
Zeko, the brigand whose head Zoe had bound up, made signs as he came that Wylie and he would fasten the ends of the rope round their own waists, and take Zoe between them; and thus they started on their perilous journey. For a hundred yards or so the path was non-existent, the bare rock running sheer down with only a very slight slope. Happily, the stone was soft enough to allow the cutting of holes for feet and hands, but the brigands had not considered the comfort of ladies in preparing these. It was almost impossible for Zoe to support both feet or both hands at the same time, and she spent some of the most frightful moments in her life in standing with one foot wedged into a crevice while Zeko, hanging in some miraculous way below her in front, guided the other to the next foothold, and Wylie, gripping the rock firmly with one hand, held out the other that she might cling to it as she swung herself on. The brigands in front were sitting down to watch and criticise the performance, and those behind were quarrelling who should pilot Maurice and Eirene, for Zeko had refused contemptuously to trouble himself about them. A man was impressed into the service at last, and Zoe, now safely on the path again, but sick and faint after her terrible experience, hid her eyes that she might not see the transit. It seemed impossible that Maurice could accomplish it successfully, for, in addition to the difficulties Wylie had surmounted, he had the brigand rearguard pressing on his heels, cursing him for not quitting each foothold quicker, and even striking his hands with their sticks to make him loose his hold of the rock. He paid no attention to them, and would not allow Eirene to hurry, as she was inclined to try to do, finally bringing her safely across.
“I couldn’t have done it,” whispered Wylie to Zoe, and she welcomed the tribute to Maurice gratefully.
This was the worst experience in the day’s journey, but the track still wound round projecting rocks, above precipices, and up torrent-beds. The girls were utterly exhausted before the end was reached, and Maurice and Wylie could only drag them ruthlessly on, scolding, encouraging, even threatening, though not with the cold-blooded realism of the brigands, whose untranslated menaces betrayed an ingenuity springing from long practice in torture. At last a thick patch of wood in a sheltered cleft on the mountain-side was pointed out as the halting-place for the night, and two of the brigands, who had gone on in advance some time before, rejoined the rest with a couple of goats, which they mentioned casually that they had requisitioned from a goatherd who was so unfortunate as to pasture his flock in the neighbourhood. Instantly the wood became a scene of pleasant bustle. Some of the band cleared a space for a camp, others began to prepare huge fires where the trees would prevent the lights being seen from the valley below, and the rest devoted themselves to culinary operations of a brief and sketchy character.
The prisoners were left to themselves, in the comfortable security that they could not possibly run away, however much they might wish it. The girls sat obediently where they had been placed, leaning against a tree, and went to sleep forthwith, while Maurice and Wylie, with a knife borrowed from Zeko, cut down branches and bushes and built a hut for them—an attention which it had not occurred to the brigands to offer. The hut was just large enough to hold the two comfortably. Its floor was of pine-boughs covered with a rug, and it had a kind of screen of twisted branches for a door. In front of it the captives were allowed to kindle a small fire of their own, and at this Wylie began to cook their supper. Milosch, with much ostentation, had brought them a piece of goat’s-flesh as a proof of Stoyan’s solicitude for their welfare, and Wylie cut this up into kabobs, which he toasted on improvised wooden skewers. The smell was so savoury that it penetrated the girls’ slumbers and woke them, and they sat up and displayed an intelligent interest in Wylie’s proceedings as they waited till the meat was ready. Never had they tasted anything so delicious in their lives, they declared, as the scorched morsels of meat, eaten as fast as they were ready, without plates or knives and forks, from the skewers on which they were cooked. Zoe even began to moralise on the readiness of civilised humanity to revert to savagery, which was a proof, as Maurice said, that she was getting over her fatigue already. After the meal the girls refused to go to bed at once, declaring that they wanted to enjoy the sensation of resting instead of losing it in sleep, and the faithful Zeko brought them an offering of four cigarettes to round off the entertainment. Zoe felt obliged to light hers and pretend to smoke it, though she dropped it into the fire as soon as Zeko’s back was turned, but Eirene smoked as calmly and with as much enjoyment as the men. The cigarettes, though treated with the utmost tenderness, were soon finished, and Maurice and Wylie stretched themselves luxuriously upon the carpet of pine-needles which covered the ground, to enjoy a well-earned rest after their labours.
“If I may offer a piece of practical advice,” said Wylie to the girls, “it is that you should take off your boots, and rest your feet as much as possible.”
“It’s quite clear that you have been here before, so to speak,” said Zoe, as she prepared to comply. “When the commanding officer advises just what one was longing to do, it’s delightful to obey.”