CHAPTER XXI.
THE DEAD THAT LIVED.
There was some grumbling when it became known that only half the garrison was to go to work on the defences at a time, the other half remaining under arms, but Colonel Graham knew the enemy too well to omit any precaution. He thought it most unlikely that the armistice would be allowed to expire without an attempt to surprise the defenders of the fort, and it was highly probable that Bahram Khan’s departure was intended purely as a blind. Hence the sentries were posted as usual upon walls and towers, and scouts were thrown out in both directions along the line of the canal, so that the working-parties might safely give their full attention to the matter in hand. As usual, the first work to be done was the digging of several graves, for the earthquake had found victims both in the refugees’ quarters and in the hospital, where two of the wounded had died of sheer terror, but when the funerals were over, the rubbish-heaps were attacked with a will. Stones and pieces of brickwork of manageable size were put aside to strengthen the makeshift rampart on the inner bank, while the dust and loose earth was carried some little distance, and spread evenly over the ground, so as to offer no cover whatever. When this had been done, Runcorn pressed forward the all-important work of the further clearing of the canal, a dirty and laborious job which it would require months to accomplish properly. As things were, the whole of the time at the disposal of the garrison produced very little apparent effect, and it needed unfailing tact and the constant force of example to keep the weary labourers at work. Colonel Graham took his turn with the rest, so that the younger men could not for very shame rebel against the task, while Mr Burgrave, for whom active labour was out of the question, stimulated the ardour of the native workmen by offering rewards for the best record of work done.
To the inmates of the Memsahibs’ courtyard, the armistice brought little change. They were allowed to cross the canal, and walk about a little on the opposite bank, but they were forbidden to venture upon the irrigated land by themselves, and no one was at liberty to escort them even as far as the outlying pickets. Mabel and Flora carried the baby across, that it might breathe the air outside prison walls for the first time in its life, as Mabel said, and they sat upon a heap of crumbling rubbish amidst clouds of dust and watched the men at work, until it dawned upon them that their room was more desired than their company, whereupon they returned to the fort, and found a seat upon the ramparts. On ordinary occasions this was forbidden ground, but the armistice had been faithfully observed so far, and in spite of his misgivings Colonel Graham gave them leave to enjoy the air and sky while they might.
“Oh dear! I feel like the naughty little boy in the spelling-book,” sighed Mabel. “Everybody is too busy to talk to me. Isn’t it dull, Flora? I do wish something would happen.”
“Why, what a martial spirit you are developing!” said Flora. “Do you yearn for an attack at this moment?”
“Oh, nonsense! I don’t mean that sort of thing. I mean something interesting.”
Her eyes strayed involuntarily to the spot where Fitz was at work down below, and the thought crossed her mind that she would make him look up at her.
“But I won’t,” she decided. “He would know I was thinking of him, and he doesn’t deserve it.” She had only spoken to him once since the earthquake, and then it seemed to her that his manner was almost apologetic, as if he knew he had offended her, but was anxious to show that she need not fear a repetition of the offence. “So I suppose he did put his arm round me,” she reflected, “but if I wasn’t angry, why should he behave as though I had been? If he does care for me still, why should he be so anxious to pretend he doesn’t? Flora!” she turned suddenly upon her friend, who was engrossed in trying to read some meaning into the baby’s inarticulate gurglings, “have you said anything to Mr Anstruther about our talk the other day? about wholesome neglect, I mean?”
“I?” asked Flora, looking up quickly, “to him, about you? Mab! as if I would ever give away another girl to any man in the world! Of course not. You ought to know me better than that.”
“I didn’t really think you had,” said Mabel lamely. “It was only—” she stopped, for the thought in her mind was that she wished there had been some such explanation of Fitz’s silence, since in that case she could at least have felt sure that he had not changed his mind.