AS I SHOT AHEAD AN AWFUL YELL AROSE BEHIND ME.
As I left the kyaung behind and was making for the bridge, I heard a few notes whistled softly just behind me. The sound seemed to come from the bushes skirting the kyaung. I should not have thought anything of this, however, if the same notes had not been whistled again, this time apparently from the fields just ahead. This was evidently a call and an answer; and it made me a little nervous, especially if the danger (if danger there were) menaced me both in front and in the rear. I looked around, but saw nothing more than I had seen many a night on that same road. Not knowing anything else to do, I went steadily ahead, keeping myself and my wheel well in hand, so as to be ready for any emergency which might arise. Passing by some gaps in the shrubbery, I saw some figures in the fields near the road making stealthily for the narrow bridge which I should have to cross before I could get into the town. I thought I could see some dahs under their arms. Then I saw the danger which threatened me. The dacoits evidently planned to intercept me at the bridge, and cut me to pieces when I should be at a disadvantage. I couldn't go back; for even if I had not had reason to think that some of the gang were lurking behind me, the time I should have lost in turning around would have put me at the mercy of my pursuers. There was only one thing to do, and it didn't take me long to decide upon it. My wheel was under pretty good headway, and I crowded on all the power I could to try and reach that bridge before the dacoits got there. As I shot ahead an awful yell arose behind me. I had been sharply watched. Immediately my ears were greeted by a chorus of shouts from the fields on both sides of the road.
My recollections of the next few minutes are not very clear. All I remember is, pedalling with all my might, with those bloodthirsty cries ringing in my ears, and my mind making incessant calculations as to the chance of getting a bullet through my body next moment. But I heard no shots, and probably the dacoits had no guns. I rolled on the bridge just as they swarmed up from the fields into the road behind me.
But I was not out of the woods yet. Before I got into town I had a long hill to climb. Now the Burman is a lightning sprinter when he chooses to sprint, and that's just what those fellows did. Racing them down hill I had the advantage, especially as they were running over the rough ground in the fields. But when it came to racing up hill they rather had the best of it, especially as they were now on the road. On a steep hill I would have had no chance at all; but the slope was gentle, and I had a start. I had a chance, therefore, for my life, and I made the best of it. The thought of those dahs put strength into every stroke I made. The worst of it was, I could not tell whether I was holding my own or not. My pursuers had stopped shouting, needing all their wind for running; and their bare feet didn't make much noise on the ground. I was bending low over my handle-bar, and didn't dare to risk diminishing my speed by straightening up to look behind me even for an instant.
But when I got to the head of the hill, and was passing the grounds of the Chief Commissioner, where there are always soldiers on guard, I felt that I could venture to take a backward glance. Then I saw that my pursuers had all disappeared.
Next day I wrote a letter to the Chief of Police, reporting my adventure in detail, and having "the honor to be, sir, his most obedient servant," according to the prescribed formula, which whosoever observeth not shall not gain the ear of the government of Burmah. In due course I received a reply, in a big brown envelope, assuring me that the matter should be promptly investigated, and having "the honor to be, sir, my most obedient servant." This was polite. The Indian government is great on politeness. But nothing ever came of it. I suppose the Superintendent did his best to ferret the matter out, but he had to work through native policemen, and they may have had reasons of their own for not being too anxious to catch the dacoits.