CHAPTER XIV. — THE SOUND OF FIRING.
Jack Everson was hardly less impatient than the doctor over the obstinacy of their lately made friends. He reminded them that the physician had spent a score of years in that part of the world, with which he was so familiar that his judgment ought to outweigh theirs, but the argument was useless. They had decided to stick to the boat that had served them so well and could not be dissuaded. Their plan, as they had intimated, now that they found they could go little further up stream, was to descend to the Ganges, with a view of working their way down to some of the cities, where they hoped to find the English had succeeded in holding out against the mutineers.
Could this be done, and could such a haven be reached, all would be well, but the doctor assured them they were leaning upon a broken reed. When it became evident that all persuasions were useless the parties separated. A common peril had brought them near to one another and it was impossible that that they should part except as friends. All felt the solemnity of the hour. Each wife kissed and embraced Mary Marlowe, and like her shed tears at what they felt was probably the final parting, so far as this world was concerned. The men warmly shook hands and there was more than one tremulous voice when the three passed over the side of the boat and said farewell.
The latter walked some distance through the jungle, which was so dense that they were obliged to follow one of the numerous paths made by the animals in going to and coming from the water. The doctor, by virtue of his superior knowledge, took the lead, with his daughter close behind, and Jack Everson bringing up the rear. They were silent and thoughtful, for their spirits were oppressed by a deep gloom and the feeling that something dreadful impended.
Not far off the path which they were following expanded into a natural clearing two or three rods in extent. When they reached the spot the doctor halted and faced his companions.
"I now know where we are," he said in an undertone; "we have to follow this path a little way back, when we enter a hilly and rough country, where the jungle is more open. It is cut up by numerous trails like this, most of which have been made by the feet of wild animals, but one of them leads northward and finally enters a highway, which if followed far enough will land us in the Nepaul country."
"I assume from what you have said that it will not be safe to stick to this road?" said Jack.
"No; for two or three days while travelling over it we shall be in constant danger; our task will be to make our way over it without attracting the notice of any of our enemies who are scouring the country for us."
"Is the thing possible?"
"I should not undertake it did I not think so; the danger will threaten for probably a hundred miles, though growing steadily less as we proceed."
"Will it not be safer to do our travelling by night?" asked the daughter.
"That is what I mean to do after reaching the more plainly marked path, which connects with the highway. I see no risk in pushing through the jungle by day, since the only foes we are likely to encounter are four-footed ones. If we meet any such we must refrain from firing, since the reports of our guns will be sure to draw attention to us. I mean, of course," explained the doctor, "that our weapons are not to be appealed to unless there is no escape otherwise, as was the case with the tiger."
While he was speaking, Mary gave a faint gasp and caught his arm. She and Jack were facing the point toward which his back was turned. Seeing that it was something behind him that had startled both, the doctor turned his head. As if to emphasize the words just spoken, he saw an immense spotted leopard, motionless in the trail not more than fifty feet away. Evidently he was trotting to the stream, when he caught sight of the three persons, stopped short, raised his head and stared wonderingly at them.
The leopard shares the reputation of the tiger for deadly ferocity and daring. When more than 20,000 persons are killed in India every year by wild animals and serpents, it will be found that the leopard is one of the most active among these factors of death, and holds his own well up with the tiger.
Like the venomous serpent, the leopard had a terrible beauty all his own. As he stood with head raised, eyes glaring, mouth slightly parted and his long tail lashing his sides with a force that made the thumping against his glossy ribs plainly audible, his pose was perfect. What a picture he made!
The question that was to be quickly answered was whether the fearful brute would allow himself to be turned aside from the path and withdraw again into the jungle with his thirst unslaked. If he did he would not be molested; if he presumed to advance upon the party, whom he evidently held in slight fear, let him be prepared for the consequences!
Jack Everson fumbled his rifle and looked with sparkling eyes at the beast.
"What a chance for another bull's-eye!" he said, in a low voice. "I would take him right between and above his forelegs, where I should be sure of reaching his heart."
"Don't fire unless he advances to attack us," warned the elder.
It would be hard to say what induced the leopard to retreat, for, as has been said, he is one of the most dangerous denizens of the jungle; but, while our friends were expecting a charge from him, he wheeled about and trotted off.
"It looks as if he had learned something of your skill," remarked the doctor with a smile.
Again, while the words were in the mouth of the speaker, he was interrupted, this time in a more terrifying manner than before.
From the direction of the stream which they had left but a short time previous, and undoubtedly from the boat itself, came the reports of firearms. There were no shouts or outcries, but the firing was rapid and apparently made by gun and pistol.
"They have been attacked!" exclaimed Mary; "we must go to their help!"
She impulsively started along the path, but her father seized her arm and said sternly:
"Remain here! It is no place for you; Jack and I will do what we can."
Perhaps in the excitement of the moment the parent did not fully comprehend the danger of leaving his daughter alone in the jungle, even at so slight a distance and for so brief a time as he anticipated, with nothing but a revolver as a means of defence; but he and Jack Everson were eager to rush to the aid of their friends, and they hurried over the trail without even looking back at her.
The young man was slightly behind his companion and both broke into a loping trot. Each held his rifle in hand, on the alert to use it the instant the opportunity presented itself.
It will be borne in mind that the distance from the slight natural opening to the boat was short, and a few minutes sufficed for the two men to cover it; but a strange thing happened. The reports of firearms which had broken out with such suddenness ceased with the same abruptness, and the silence because of the contrast was tenfold more oppressive than before.
"What can that mean?" asked Jack, as his companion slackened his pace.
"It means that they are through!" replied the doctor, whose face was of deathly paleness. "My God! what have we escaped!"
"We shall soon know," replied Jack, catching the awful significance of the words; and then he added to himself:
"We may have escaped it, but for how long?"
A few rods further and they were at the side of the stream, and the boat loomed to view through the thick undergrowth and vegetation.
CHAPTER XV. — GONE!
Neither Jack Everson nor Dr. Marlowe forgot his own personal danger in hurrying to the help of their imperilled friends. If the two were too late to be of any assistance they were imminently likely to precipitate themselves into the same whirlpool of woe and death. They had slowed their gait to a walk as they neared the spot, and when they caught the dim outlines of the boat the two stood still.
So far as they could see there was no change in its surroundings. It was still moored against the bank, so close that any one could step aboard, but no sign of living person was visible on or about it. There was something so uncanny in it all that but for their mutual knowledge they would have doubted the evidence of their senses.
"I don't understand it," whispered Jack. "Suppose you stay here while I steal nigh enough to learn something that will help clear up the horrible mystery."
"You are running frightful risk," said the doctor; "I cannot advise you to try it."
"All the same, I shall do it."
Thus, it will be observed that the three persons composing the little party became separated from one another for greater or less distances. The daughter was waiting, two or three hundred yards away, for the return of her father and lover, while they had just parted company, though they expected to remain in sight of each other.
Dr. Marlowe stood in the path, partly sheltering himself behind a couple of tree trunks, but with his eyes fixed upon his young friend, who walked cautiously but unhesitatingly forward. Jack held his rifle in a trailing position at his side, his shoulders bent slightly forward, while he stepped lightly, his senses alert, like those of a scout entering the camp of an enemy. That he was running into great danger was self-evident, but he was determined not to turn back until he learned something of the strange occurrences.
Watching his young friend, the doctor saw him stop when at the side of the motionless boat. His profile showed first on one side and then, on the other, while he listened for the slightest sound that could give an atom of knowledge. Apparently the effort was useless, for the next moment he placed his left hand on the gunwale and vaulted lightly upon deck. He stood a few moments as if transfixed, then turning abruptly about leaped to the ground, and, breaking into a run, hurried back to his friend, who noticed that his face was more ghastly than before, while his eyes stared as if they still looked upon unutterable things.
"What is it?" asked the elder in a ghostly whisper.
"My God! don't ask me to tell!"
"You forget that we are both physicians."
"But not that we are human beings; thank Heaven forever that you did not look upon the sight my eyes saw a moment ago. Let it suffice, doctor, to say that of the three men and women to whom we bade good-bye within the past twenty minutes not one is alive! The fiends have been there."
Not the least singular fact connected with this hideous incident was that the devils who committed the unspeakable crime had vanished, so far as could be seen, as utterly as if the ground had opened beneath their feet and swallowed them. Two men had come back upon the scene within a few minutes after all this was done, and yet the doers were nowhere in sight. What was the meaning of their hasty departure?
It was unreasonable to think they had gone far. They must be in the vicinity. They must have noticed the absence of the doctor and his companions; doubtless they were looking for them along shore; possibly they had started over some of the trails and ere long would strike the one along which the three had fled.
"A wonderful Providence has preserved us thus far," said Jack Everson; "but it is too much to expect we shall emerge unscathed from this hell hole."
"I hope nothing will happen to Mary before we rejoin her."
"We shall be with her in a minute."
Nevertheless, a vague fear disturbed both. The parent was again leading, and he unconsciously hastened his footsteps. Only a slight distance beyond they came to the small opening where they had left her standing but a brief while before. Since the men had passed over the intervening distance to the river it was unlikely that anything had occurred to alarm the young woman, but there was no saying what might happen in those times and in that part of the world.
The real shock came to the parent when he turned in the trail and saw the open space but failed to observe his daughter. He hurried on without speaking, but Jack, directly behind him, had made the discovery, for a moment he was so breathless and dizzy that he barely saved himself from falling. His heart became lead, and the awful conviction got hold of him that the most woeful affliction of all had come upon them, and that his betrothed was lost irrecoverably.
But the sight of the anguish of the parent when he turned about and faintly gasped, "Where is my child?" brought the self-command of the young man back.
It was the despairing question wrung from the heart of the parent, with a grief that was no keener than that of Jack Everson himself. Here was another instance of the appalling suddenness with which tragedies began and were completed in this infernal country. A band of half a dozen was cut off within the space of a few minutes, and now, in still less time, a young woman vanished as if she had never been.
Jack did not dare trust his voice in the effort to speak, but when his eyes met those of the parent he shook his head, saying by the gesture:
"God have mercy, I cannot answer."
But strong men do not remain dazed and helpless in the presence of a shuddering calamity. If any one thing could be set down as certain it was that Miss Marlowe had left the place by fleeing deeper into the jungle. She could not have approached them without being observed: therefore they must seek her by taking the same direction.
The energy of the man more than threescore under the spur of his anguish was like that of the athlete of one-third of his years. He still led the way, and, after the brief halt under the fearful blow, he rallied and compelled Jack Everson to keep upon a trot to save himself from falling behind.
A hundred paces from the opening they reached a point where the trails forked. They stopped, the parent being the first to do so.
"Jack," said he, using the less formal name, for under the awful shadow they had drawn nearer to each other, "we can't afford to make any mistake."
"There shall be none if you tell me how to prevent it."
"She must have followed one of these paths, but who shall say which?"
He stooped over and peered at the ground. Within the dim hush of the jungle he was unable to discern the slightest disturbance of the earth.
"No use of that," said the doctor, reading his intention; "therefore we will separate; one of us will overtake them."
"Have you any idea of the identity of these devils?"
"I think they are Ghoojurs, but it makes no difference; Mussulmans and Hindoos are the same; each of us has a rifle and revolver; if you get sight of them don't wait to notify me; shoot to kill; you know how to do it."
"I shall shrink from nothing, but the case may be hopeless."
"If it is will you promise me one thing?" asked, the parent of the young man looking him in the eye.
"I do; what is the pledge?"
"That you point your gun at her?"
CHAPTER XVI. — A SHADOWY PURSUIT.
It was a fearful pledge to exact, but Jack Everson gave it without hesitation.
"You understand me; enough; let us lose no more time; I will turn to the right; good-bye; we are all in the hands of God."
There was not a tear in the eye of the parent. His heart might be torn by grief, but he was now the Roman from whose lips no murmuring was heard.
It seemed to Jack Everson that the strangeness of the incidents of the past hour had lifted him into a state of exaltation. He never felt calmer nor more self-possessed than when hurrying over the path, rifle in hand, revolver at his hip with the belief that there was not one chance in a thousand that he would ever again look upon the one who had won his heart when the two were on the other side of the world and for whose sake he was ready to go to the uttermost lengths of the earth.
His feeling was: "They have stolen her from us, but by the Eternal she shall cost them dear!"
There was no thought of what all this implied to himself. He did not care what the consequences were, so far as he was concerned. It came to be a legend among the men desperately defending their families and themselves during the horrors of the Sepoy mutiny, that in fighting the unspeakable fiends, the European should save a bullet apiece for his dear ones and one for himself.
Such was the resolve of the young American who was now making all haste to find his beloved and her captors, and settling down into that resolution he acted with the coolness of a veteran.
The first truth that impressed itself upon him was that the path which he was following steadily ascended, being quite steep in many places. This showed as a matter of course that he was attaining higher ground. He was not familiar enough with the country to know that he was approaching a steep ridge of hills, for the doctor had told him nothing of the fact, and the elevated section had been passed in the boat at night. He observed, too, that his course trended to the right, proving that he was penetrating deeper into the country.
"If the line that the doctor is following holds straight on we must approach each other, but his may turn more than mine—confound it!"
He had reached a point where the paths forked again. Supposing he had been fortunate enough to take the right course at the beginning, how could he maintain it?
Swallowing his exasperation, he reflected coolly. The trail to the left was less travelled than the one which kept directly forward. He believed the Ghoojurs had kept to it possibly because there was less danger of pursuit. One fact was self-evident: nothing was to be gained by standing still, while there was a chance of accomplishing something by going on. With scarcely a minute's hesitation he advanced at a rapid stride over the more faintly marked course, peering in advance for a glimpse of his enemies.
Since the latter had not gained much start it would seem that he ought to be close upon them, always provided he was traveling in their actual footsteps. The ground continued rough and broken, but it had no effect on his progress. Something like a shadow whisked across the path in front at the moment of his passing round a turn. Some animal had caught sight of him, and, scared by the vision, had leaped into the jungle at the side. Whether it was a tiger, leopard, cheetah, wild boar or another brute he did not know or care. If it dared to dispute his way he would shoot.
He was pressing forward in this reckless, desperate fashion, when he dropped as if he had collided with a stone wall, and his heart almost ceased its beating. He had caught the faint report of a firearm. It came from a point on his right and sounded as if caused by a revolver, rather than a larger weapon. The thought that came to him was that it was the pistol of Mary Marlowe!
"She is at bay; she may have fired it at herself, and yet I do not think she would do that until some of the bullets had reached the wretches who have captured her. I am following the wrong path, for this one leads me away from her."
Without an instant's hesitation he turned and began his return on a loping trot. He was incensed with himself because of his mistake, and yet there was no reasonable cause for such feeling, but grief is as thoughtless as love, and he was stirred to the very depth of his soul by both. Reaching the last forking, he did not pause, but set out over the main trail.
In front of him towered a mass of rocks higher than any he had yet seen. The path wound about these, but instead of following it, he climbed to the highest part.
"I may gain sight of something from up there," was his thought as he pushed on, "that will be of some help."
And he did see something from the crest which fairly took away his breath.
CHAPTER XVII. — ALMOS.
Mary Marlowe was an obedient daughter, and when her father checked her move to go to the aid of the imperilled ones on the boat, and peremptorily ordered her to wait where she was, she obeyed without protest. She would have been glad to bear them company, but knew she would be more of a hindrance than a help.
It was less than five minutes after the disappearance of her father and betrothed when she was frightened by hearing a slight sound directly behind her in the path. Her thought naturally was that some wild animal was stealing upon her, but the first glance told a more dreadful story. Five men, who, from their ragged, scant attire, their dark complexion and wild expression of features, she knew to belong to the terrible bandits called Ghoojurs, had come upon her unnoticed, and pausing within a half dozen paces, were looking fixedly at her.
The sight was so startling that the young woman gasped and recoiled. She would have fled after her friends had not the leader made a gesture, accompanied by the command:
"Stay where you are or you shall be killed! I know you as the daughter of the doctor, and we seek you and him."
Each of the Ghoojurs carried a long, muzzle-loading gun, and every one had a yataghan thrust into a girdle around his waist, the weapon being a foot or more in length, and with a point of needle-like fineness. The leader spoke in Hindustani, which was as familiar to the young woman as her own tongue.
The young woman possessed quick wit. She could not doubt that the five, including Almos and Mustad, were now her deadly enemies. Whether they had taken part in the massacre of those left on the boat could not be conjectured, but the probabilities were the other way, since it would have been well-nigh impossible for them to reach their present position from the river without colliding with Dr. Marlowe and Jack Everson.
Mary showed her shrewdness by acting as if the two men were the friends they had always shown themselves when their former meetings took place.
"Why, Almos," she said, forcing a smile in which there was no pleasure, "we have not met before since you came to my home and my father gave you medicine that cured your illness. How do you do?"
And she had the courage to advance a step and offer her dainty hand, but the brute refused it. With a shake of his head he retreated a step and said:
"My caste will not allow me."
"But it allowed you to take drink and food from my hand and medicine from that of my father," she said, stung by the repulse.
"I did evil, for which Allah has pardoned me; the faithful have been summoned to drive the infidels from India; the followers of Islam have heard the call, and they are flocking to the banner of the Prophet from all parts of Hindostan; not one infidel shall be left in all the land."
During these few moments Mustad stood directly behind the leader, with a fixed grin in which there was a certain shamefacedness, for with all his fierce fanaticism he could not forget the gentle, sweet nature of the one who had become a prisoner nor the unvarying kindness he had received at her hands. True, the devil in his nature was roused, and there could be little question that he was acting as guide to these murderers while they hunted for the doctor and his family.
"And do you mean to help kill those who have been your friends, Mustad?" she asked, with her penetrating eyes fixed upon him.
Had the two been alone, it is possible the edge would have been taken off the response, but with four Ghoojurs at his elbow, and one of them the furious Almos, he dared not be behind them in savagery.
"This is a war for our deen; when we fight for that we know none but the followers of the Prophet! The Inglese loge stole our homes and our land from us! They have put lard on the cartridges of the Sepoys that the faithful may become unclean and be shut out of paradise! I hate them all! I have no friends among them! I shall never sheath my knife nor stay my hand while one remains alive in India."
"Let it be as you say," she calmly replied, seeing that it was useless to hold converse with the wretch.
Her wish was to keep the party where they were until Jack and her father could have time to return. Here would be an opportunity for the young man to make a few more bull's-eyes, but Almos was too wise to run the risk. He was not afraid to fight two men, even though not so well armed as they, but his wish was first to place the young woman beyond their reach—for when the fight came it would be to the death.
"No harm shall come to you," said the leader in a gentler tone. "Walk forward over the path and we will guard you against harm."
"Whither do you intend to take me?" she asked, debating whether to obey or to make a fight then and there and force matters to an issue.
"To Akwar."
"Why there?"
"To place you among friends that your enemies may not reach you."
"Why not take me to my home?"
"It has been burned and the men are hiding among the trees that they may slay you when you and your father return."
After a moment's hesitation she obeyed, taking the path along which her parent soon after pressed in the desperate effort to recover her from her captors.
CHAPTER XVIII. — DOCTOR AND PATIENT.
The bright wits of Miss Marlowe were active. Mustad took the lead along the path, she following next, while Almos, the leader of the Ghoojurs, and his three companions, brought up the rear. Like most of the trails through the Asiatic jungles, this was inclosed on each side by a growth of trees, undergrowth and matted vegetation of such density that it was next to impossible for any one to pick his way forward or backward except by keeping within the path itself. To step aside into the jungle would immediately involve one in so inextricable a tangle that he could move only with the greatest difficulty.
An attempt to escape, therefore, by darting to one side was not to be thought of, and she knew that her only hope lay with her absent friends. She was confident that they would speedily return, and, finding her gone, start in immediate pursuit. A collision between them and the Ghoojurs was imminent.
The latter acted as if their only interest lay in their prisoner. So far as she could judge no attention was paid to the rear, whence the danger of attack threatened. The place of Mustad, at the head, confirmed her suspicion that he had been playing the part of guide for the rest from the first.
She did not doubt that her home and its contents had been burned by the wretches, but under the circumstances the matter gave her little concern. She was inclined to believe that her captors meant to conduct her into the town of Akwar, nearby, and with her knowledge of the fanatical hatred of the population against all Christians she still hoped to find some friends there who would protect her from harm. And thus it was that she was not in the state of collapse or despair that might be supposed.
Suddenly a pistol was fired from some point at the rear beyond her captors, and out of sight. All the men instantly stopped, grasped their arms and looked back, the young woman doing the same. Her thought was: "That was father or Jack, but he did not hit any one; therefore, it wasn't Jack."
While the six were looking expectantly to the rear Dr. Marlowe, his face flushed, and his whole appearance, showing his intense excitement, came into sight. He was panting from his severe exertion, and raised his hand as a signal for the Ghoojurs to wait for him. It is probable that he would have received a shot, but for an interruption that was as unexpected as it was remarkable. Almos, the leader of the Ghoojurs, emitted a yell that could have been heard a half-mile away, and leaped several feet in the air, while his companions with exclamations of terror hastily recoiled from him.
"Great Allah! He has been bitten!" exclaimed the horrified Mustad, almost knocking the young woman off her feet in his rush towards his master; but one of the others had perceived the monstrous cobra, and, clubbing his gun, he beat the life out of it with one blow, before it could glide away into the jungle. It looked as if this part of the country was specially pestered by the dreadful reptiles.
Almos knew he was doomed. All hope had vanished, and, dropping to the ground, he bared his bronzed ankle, looked at the tiny points where the horrible poison had been injected into his system, and then, like the fatalist be was, he calmly folded his arms and waited for the last moment that was rushing upon him. He was a faithful follower of the Prophet and knew how to meet the inevitable that awaits us all. His companions, awed and silent, stood around, unable to say or do anything that could give him comfort. Miss Marlowe, after walking part way to the group, paused and looked at them and at her father, who was hurrying to the spot. She wondered that Almos had permitted the killing of the cobra, since the snake is looked upon as sacred in India, and few natives can be induced to injure one. The Ghoojurs probably slew it in the flurry of the moment.
Dr. Marlowe had heard the cry and noted the excitement, but did not suspect the cause until he drew near the spot. Then Mustad, familiar with the skill of the medical man, beckoned to him and said:
"Make haste, great sahib, Almos has been bitten by a snake; no one can save him but you."
The stricken chief, from his seat on the ground, looked up in the face of the white man, of whose wonderful skill he had received proof in his own self. The countenance of the Ghoojur was of ashen hue, and the yearning expression of his eyes told of the hope that had been kindled within his breast.
Now that the physician had dropped into what may be called his professional character, he was himself again. He set down the caba containing his instruments, and medicaments, adjusted his glasses, and stooping over, intently studied the wound made by the cobra. Then he drew out his watch, as if he were timing the pulse beats of a patient.
"It is one minute and a half since you were bitten," he said, still holding the timepiece in his hand, but looking into the face of Almos; "in three more minutes and a half no power but Allah can save you."
Catching the full meaning of these words, the Ghoojur leader quivered with suddenly renewed hope.
"Can you save me?" he asked in Hindustani.
"I have in there," replied the physician, tapping his caba with his long forefinger, "that which will render the bite of the snake as harmless as the peck of a bird that flies in the air, but barely three minutes remain in which to apply it."
"Then I beseech you, do not wait," said the eager Almos, shoving his foot towards the doctor; "great is the English doctor; be quick; why do you tarry?"
"Before I heal you," replied Dr. Marlowe, with maddening deliberation, "I must be paid my fee; I have attended you before and refused to accept what you offered, but now I demand payment before applying the remedy."
"You shall have it; name it, I beg you; all that I have shall be yours if you will save me, but haste, O great physician, haste!"
"It is strong, and will do its work well, if it be given the chance."
He next drew out a lancet, with its edge like a razor's. Almos breathlessly watched him, but when he expected the doctor to begin work, he leaned back and said:
"Why should I bring you back from death, when you are seeking the lives of my daughter and myself? The best thing I can do is to let you die, as you will do in two minutes and a half more," he added, looking again at his watch; "the venom of the cobra works fast and it will soon strike your heart."
"You promised to save me if I would pay you in advance.
"So I will."
"Name your fee; be quick with it!"
"It is that you and the rest of the Ghoojurs shall leave me and mine alone; that you shall depart at once; that you shall not attempt to follow, nor harm us in any way. Without that pledge on your part, I shall let you die like the dog that you are. What is your answer?"
"I promise; I promise!" exclaimed Almos, almost beside himself with excitement and renewed hope. "I will guide you through the jungle to a safe point, and will watch over you till all danger is gone."
"You have given me your promise, but you may break it; swear by the mantle of the Prophet, or I shall let you die."
"I swear by the mantle of the Prophet!" the Ghoojur chieftain fairly shrieked, "that I will do as I have promised! Quick, quick, or it will be too late!"
"You have made the most sacred vow that a Mussulman can make; I will test it by saving your life."
CHAPTER XIX. — ASIATIC HONOR.
One quick movement with the lancet made an incision across the red specks left by the fangs of the cobra, and into the opening he poured a teaspoonful of the yellowish fluid, which was so much like liquid fire and pepper that even the dusky scoundrel gasped with agony. Then he was made to open his mouth and swallow something from a large bottle, which, as regards strength and flavor, was a twin of that which was consuming his flesh.
All at once the countenance of the physician expanded with a beaming smile as he looked at his patient and said gently as if speaking to his own child:
"All danger is past, Almos."
From the abundance of rags which fluttered about his person, the doctor tore a piece and bandaged the wound. Then he said in a business-like tone:
"I am through; now you and the rest of you may go."
Almos hesitated.
"You have saved my life: is there nothing I can do for you?"
"I have just told you what to do—leave?"
Probably there would have been less promptness in complying with the command had there been less in uttering it. As it was, Almos, without a word, motioned to the rest of his band, and led the way down the path in the direction of the stream, the four tramping after him like so many ragged phantoms.
Dr. Marlowe was more eager to leave the place than he would permit his child to know. He had no faith in Almos's promise, knowing that the Ghoojur chieftain would break his oath, which he and his brother fanatics did not consider binding when made to infidels, and the only hope, therefore, was for the fugitives to conceal themselves from the miscreants—a thing which the physician's intimate knowledge of the country would enable him to do.
Footfalls sounded along the path over which the two had just come, and a minute later Almos, Mustad and their three companions emerged into the opening and approached the couple, one of whom suspected nothing until her father spoke.
"Well, Almos, what do you want?" demanded Dr. Marlowe, calmly looking up at the Ghoojur chieftain, as he paused in front of him and made a salaam.
"We have come for the infidel and his daughter; our deen commands us to put them to death."
"What does the oath you gave me a little while ago command you to do?"
"That was made to an infidel; it is not binding upon a true son of the Prophet."
"A true son of the devil!" exclaimed the physician, unable to repress his rage.
Turning to his daughter, he said:
"My child, you have a pistol; when they make a move, shoot; leave Almos to me and save your last bullet for yourself."
"The infidels shall be destroyed everywhere," said Almos; "none of the Inglese loge shall be left in India. The faithful have risen and they will crush them all, for so commands the Prophet——"
Dr. Marlowe had placed his hand on the butt of his revolver at his hip, meaning to whip out the weapon and fire before the miscreant had finished his high-sounding tomfoolery. His daughter had also grasped hers, intending to obey to the letter the command of her parent, when the Ghoojur chieftain abruptly paused in his speech, staggered for a moment, and then sank to the ground like a bundle of rags, with the breath of life gone from his body.
The incident would have been as inexplicable to parent and child as to the Ghoojurs, had they not caught the faint, far-away report of a rifle, which, if heard by the bandits, was not associated by them with the startling thing that had taken place before their eyes. But the doctor and Mary knew the connection.
And about half-a-mile away, on the top of that huge rock, hot enough under the flaming sun to roast eggs, Jack Everson had assumed the same position that he held the afternoon before on the bank of the Ganges, when he checked the advance of the Ghoojur horsemen across the river. With the aid of the glasses, he had descried the forms of his beloved and her father when the bright eyes failed to detect his own. Then, when about to start to join them, he observed their visitors, and the glass again helped to identify them, after which he "proceeded to business."
The instant he made his aim sure he pulled the trigger, came to a sitting position, readjusted a cartridge, and placing the glasses to his eyes that he might see the more plainly, watched the result of his shot.
"By Jove; another bull's-eye!" he gleefully exclaimed, as he saw his man stagger and fall almost at the feet of Dr. Marlowe. "I don't know the gentleman's name, but a first-class obituary notice is in order. That makes six, and now for the seventh. I really hope the doctor is keeping score for me."
The professional eye of the physician saw where the pellet of lead had passed through the chest of Almos, but it was not observed by Mustad or the other Ghoojurs, who probably attributed it in some way to the bite of the cobra, in spite of the miraculous cure that seemed to have been wrought before their eyes. The three remained in the background, but the fall of the leader appeared to add flames to the hatred of Mustad, who, assuming the mantle of the fallen chieftain, stepped to the front.
"You shall not escape us!" he hissed; "all the Inglese loge shall die!"
"But before any more of them perish, you shall go to the infernal regions to keep company with the imp that has just gone thither."
The doctor had learned from the exhibition of the preceding afternoon the time required by Jack Everson to repeat his marvelous shots. He knew, therefore, about the moment when a second was due, and he decided to make its arrival as dramatic as possible.
"You stand almost on the same spot where stood Almos; he dropped dead before me, and," raising his hand impressively, "I command you to do the same."
Mustad obeyed.
Again the faint report swept across the extent of jungle, travelling with almost the same speed as the bullet, which, like its predecessor, bored through the dusky chest of the victim and lost itself in the vegetation beyond. Mustad gasped, convulsively clasped one hand to his breast, flung out both arms, groped blindly for an instant, and then slumped down as dead as one of the mummies of the Pyramids.
And the young American, still reclining on that gray, blistering rock, again rose to a sitting posture and clapped the glasses to his eyes to observe more clearly the result of his last trial at markmanship.
"That makes seven bull's-eyes!" was his delighted exclamation, "but I have done as well when the distance was twice as great. I must keep the number in mind, for it will be like the doctor to insist that I made but six out of a possible eight. I notice that three gentlemen are left and require attention."
With the same care as before, he lay back and drew bead on the group, but the next moment uttered an impatient exclamation and straightened up again.
"They have fled; only Mary and her father are left, and there's no call to send any bullets in their direction."
The fall of Mustad at the command of the wrathful physician was more than the other Ghoojurs could stand. Suspecting no connection between the almost inaudible reports and the terrifying incidents, they believed their only hope was in headlong flight. Without a word they dashed down the trail, quickly passing from sight, and were seen no more.
Meanwhile Jack Everson, finding no demand for long shooting, sprang from the rock and made all haste to the spot where he had recognized his friends, and where they awaited his coming with an anxiety that could not have been more intense. That others of their enemies were in the neighborhood was certain, and their vengeance could not be restrained or turned aside as had been that of the Ghoojurs. A collision between them and the fugitives must be fatal to the latter.
Great, therefore, was the delight of father and daughter when the brave fellow bounded into sight, his whole concern, as it seemed, being to learn whether the score kept by the doctor agreed with his own. When assured that it did, he announced that he was at the disposal of the venerable physician and his daughter.
The three pushed steadily toward Nepaul, cheered by the knowledge that with every mile passed their danger lessened. They were in great peril more than once. Twice they exchanged shots with marauding bands, and once their destruction seemed inevitable; but good fortune attended them, and at the end of a week they entered the wild, mountainous and sparsely-settled region, where at last all danger was at an end.
So it came about that when the young people took their final departure down the Ganges for Calcutta, thence to return to the United States, Dr. Marlowe went with them. He and his son-in-law formed a partnership in the practice of their profession, and it is only a few years since that the aged physician was laid to rest. He was full of years and honors, and willing to go, for he knew that the happiness of his daughter could be in no safer hands than those of Jack Everson.