CHAPTER IX: THE RESCUE OF NOREEN

There was a moment’s consternation among the Bhuttias. Then they sprang to their feet and began to draw their dahs. But suddenly one cried:

“The demon elephant! The devil man!”

Another and another took up the cry. Then all at once in terror they turned and plunged panic-stricken into the undergrowth. All but two—the wearer of shoes and a man with a scarred face beside him. While the rest fled they stood their ground and called vainly to their companions to come back. When they found themselves deserted the wearer of shoes pulled out a revolver and fired at Dermot, while his scarred comrade drew his sword and ran towards Noreen.

The soldier, ignoring his own danger but fearing for the girl’s life, threw his rifle to his shoulder and sent a bullet crashing through her assailant’s skull, then with his second barrel he shot the man with the pistol through the heart. The first raider collapsed instantly and fell in a heap, while the other, dropping his weapon, swayed for a moment, staggered forward a few feet, and fell dead.

Only then could Dermot look at Noreen. In the dramatic moment of his appearance the girl had uttered no sound, but sat rigid with her eyes fixed on him. When the swordsman rushed at her she seemed scarcely conscious of her peril but she started in terror and grew deadly pale when his companion fired at her rescuer. When both fell her tension relaxed. She sank back half-fainting in her chair and closed her eyes.

When she opened them again Badshah was kneeling a few yards away and Dermot stood beside her cutting the cords that bound her.

She looked up at him and said simply:

“I knew you would come.”

With an affectation of light-heartedness that he was far from feeling he replied laughing:

“Of course you did. I am bound to turn up like the clown in the pantomime, saying, ‘Here we are again.’ Oh, I forgot. I am a bit late. I should have appeared on the scene when those beggars got to your bungalow.”

He pretended to treat the whole affair lightly and made no further allusion to her adventure, asking no questions about it. He was afraid lest she should break down in the sudden relief from the strain and anxiety. But there was no cause to fear it. The girl was quietly brave and imitated his air of unconcern, behaving after the first moment as if they were meeting under the most ordinary circumstances. She smiled, though somewhat feebly, as she said:

“Oh, not a clown, Major Dermot. Rather the hero of a cinema drama, who always appears in time to rescue the persecuted maiden. I am beginning to feel quite like the unlucky heroine of a film play.”

The cords fastening her had now been cut, so she tried to stand up but found no strength in her numbed limbs.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m—I’m rather stiff,” she said, sinking back into the chair again. She felt angry at her weakness, but she was almost glad of it when she saw Dermot’s instant look of concern.

“You are cramped from being tied up,” he said. “Don’t hurry.”

The cords had chafed her wrists cruelly. He stooped to examine the abrasions, and the girl thrilled at his gentle touch. A feeling of shyness overcame her, and she turned her eyes away from his face. They fell on the bodies of the dead raiders, and she hastily averted her gaze.

“Hadn’t we better hurry away from here?” she asked, apprehensively.

“No; I don’t think there is any necessity. The men who ran away seemed too scared to think of returning. But still, we’ll start as soon as you feel strong enough.”

“What was it that they cried out?”

“Oh, merely an uncomplimentary remark about Badshah and me,” he replied.

The girl made another attempt to rise and succeeded with his assistance. He lifted her on to Badshah’s pad and went over to examine the dead men. After his first casual glance at the wearer of shoes he knelt down and looked closely into the face of the corpse. Then he pulled open the single garment. A thin cord consisting of three strings of spun cotton was round the body next the skin, passing over the left shoulder and under the right arm. This Dermot cut off. From inside the garment he took out some other articles, all of which he pocketed. He then searched the corpse of the scarred Bhuttia, taking a small packet tied up in cloth from the breast of the garment. Noreen watched him with curiosity and marvelled at his courage in handling the dead bodies.

He returned to the kneeling elephant and took his place on the neck.

“Hold on now, Miss Daleham,” he said. “Badshah’s going to rise. Uth”

Noreen gripped the surcingle rope tightly as the elephant heaved up his big body and set off along a track through the jungle at a rapid pace.

“Now we are safe enough,” said Dermot, turning towards his companion. “I have not asked you yet about your adventures. Tell me all that happened to you, if you don’t mind talking about it.”

“Oh, it was awful,” she answered, shuddering at the remembrance.

“And it was all so sudden. There was a fire in the jungle near the garden, and Fred went with the others to put it out. He wouldn’t let me accompany him, but told me to go for my ride in the opposite direction. I didn’t stay away long. I had just returned to the bungalow and dismounted and was giving my pony a piece of sugar, when several Bhuttias rushed at me from behind the house and seized me. Poor Lalla, my syce, tried to keep them off with his bare hands, but one brute struck him on the head with his sword. The poor boy fell, covered with blood. I’m afraid he was killed.”

“No, he isn’t dead,” remarked Dermot. “I saw him, and I think that he’ll live.”

“Oh, I’m so glad to hear it,” exclaimed the girl. “Ever since I saw it I’ve had before my eyes the dreadful sight of the poor lad lying on the ground covered with blood and apparently lifeless. Well, to go on. I called the other servants, but no one came. The Bhuttias tied my hands and tried to lift me on to my pony’s back, but Kitty got frightened and bolted. Then they didn’t seem to know what to do, and one went to a man who had remained at a distance from us and spoke to him. He apparently told them to fetch a chair from the bungalow and put me into it. I tried to struggle, but I was powerless in their grasp. I was fastened to the chair, poles were tied to it, and at a sign from the man who stood alone—he seemed to be the leader—I was lifted up and carried off.”

“Did you notice anything about this man—the leader?” asked Dermot.

“Yes, he was not like the others in face. He didn’t seem to me to be a Bhuttia at all. He was one of the two that you shot—the man with shoes. It seems absurd, but do you know, his face appeared rather familiar to me somehow. But of course I could never have seen him before.”

“Are you sure that you hadn’t? Think hard,” said Dermot eagerly.

The girl shook her head.

“It’s no use. I puzzled over the likeness most of the time that I was in their hands, but I couldn’t place him.”

Dermot looked disappointed.

The girl continued:

“We went through the forest for hours without stopping, except to change the bearers of my chair. I noticed that the leader spoke to one man only, the man with the scars on his face whom you shot, too, and he passed on the orders.”

“Could you tell in what language these two spoke to each other?”

“No; they never talked in my hearing. In fact I noticed that the man with shoes always avoided coming near me. Well, we went on and on and never halted until we reached the place where you found us. It seemed to be a spot that they had aimed for. I saw the scarred man examining some marks on the trees in it and pointing them out to the leader, who then gave the order to stop.”

“How did they behave to you?”

“No one took any notice of me. They simply carried me, lifted me up, and dumped me down as if I were a tea-chest,” replied the girl. “Well, that is all my adventure. But now please tell me how you came so opportunely to my rescue. Was it by chance or did you follow us? Oh, I forgot. You said you saw Lalla, so you must have been at Malpura. Did Fred send you?”

Dermot briefly related all that had happened. When he told her of his dispute with Badshah about the route to be followed and how the elephant proved to be in the right she cried enthusiastically:

“Oh, the dear thing! He’s just the most wonderful animal in the world. Forgive me for interrupting. Please go on.”

When he had finished his tale there was silence between them for a little. Then Noreen said in a voice shaking with emotion:

“How can I thank you? Again you have saved me. And this time from a fate even more dreadful than the first. I’d sooner be killed outright by the elephants than endure to be carried off to some awful place by those wretches. Who were they? Were they brigands, like one reads of in Sicily? Was I to be killed or to be held to ransom?”

“Oh, the latter, I suppose,” replied Dermot.

But there was a doubtful tone about his words. In fact, he was at a loss to understand the affair. It was probably not what he had thought it at first—an attempt on the part of enterprising Bhuttia raiders to carry off an Englishwoman for ransom. For when he overtook them they were on a path that led away from the mountains, so they were not making for Bhutan. And the identity of the leader perplexed him.

There could be no political motive for the outrage. The affair was a puzzle. But he put the matter aside for the time being and began to consider their position. The sun was declining, for the afternoon was well advanced. As far as he could judge they were a long way from Malpura, and it seemed to him that Badshah was not heading directly for the garden. But he had sufficient confidence in the animal’s intelligence to refrain from interfering with him again. The pangs of hunger reminded him that he had had no food since the early morning cup of tea at the planter’s bungalow where he had passed the night, for he had hoped to breakfast at Malpura. It occurred to him that his companion must be in the same plight.

“Are you hungry, Miss Daleham?” he asked.

“Hungry? I don’t know. I haven’t had time to think about food,” she replied. “But I’m very thirsty.”

“Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Oh, don’t tantalise me, Major,” she replied laughing. “I feel I’d give anything for one now. But unfortunately there aren’t any tea-rooms in this wonderful jungle of yours.”

Dermot smiled.

“Perhaps it could be managed,” he said. “What I am concerned about is how to get something substantial to eat, for I foolishly came away from Granger’s bungalow, where I stayed last night, without replenishing my stores, which had run low. I intended asking you for enough to carry me back to Ranga Duar. But when I heard what had happened—Hullo! with luck there’s our dinner.”

He broke off suddenly, for a jungle cock had crowed in the forest not far away.

“I wish I had a shot gun,” he whispered. “But my rifle will have to do. Mul, Badshah.”

He guided the elephant quietly and cautiously in the direction from which the sound had come. Presently they came to an open glade and heard the fowl crow again. Dermot halted Badshah in cover and waited. Presently there was a patter over the dry leaves lying on the ground, and a jungle cock, a bird similar to an English bantam, stalked across the glade twenty yards away. It stopped and began to peck. Dermot quietly raised his rifle and took careful aim at its head. He fired, and the body of the cock fell to the earth headless.

“What a good shot, Major!” exclaimed Noreen, who had been quite excited.

“It was an easy one, for this rifle’s extremely accurate and the range was very short. I fired at the head, for if I had hit the body with such a big bullet there wouldn’t have been much dinner left for us. Now I think that we shall have to halt for a little time. I know that you must be eager to get back home and relieve your brother’s anxiety. But Badshah has been going for many hours on end and has not delayed to graze on the way, so it would be wise to give him a rest and a feed.”

“Yes, indeed,” said the girl. “He thoroughly deserves it.”

She was not unwilling that the time spent in Dermot’s company should be prolonged. It was a sweet and wonderful experience to be thus alone with him in the enchanted jungle. She had forgotten her fears; and the remembrance of her recent unpleasant adventure vanished in her present happiness. For she was subtly conscious of a new tenderness in his manner towards her.

The elephant sank down, and Dermot dismounted and lifted the girl off carefully. Noreen felt herself blushing as he held her in his arms, and she was thankful that he did not look at her, but when he had put her down, busied himself in taking off Badshah’s pad and laying it on the ground. Unstrapping his blankets he spread one and rolled the other up as a pillow.

“Now please lie down on this, Miss Daleham,” he said. “A rest will do you good, too. I am going to turn cook and show you how we fare in the jungle.”

The girl took off her hat and was only too glad to stretch herself on the pad, which made a comfortable couch, for the emotions of the day had worn her out. She watched Dermot as he moved about absorbed in his task. From one pocket of the pad he took out a shallow aluminium dish and a small, round, convex iron plate. From another he drew a linen bag and a tin canister.

“You said that you would like tea, Miss Daleham,” he remarked. “Well, you shall have some presently.”

“Yes; but how can you make it?” she asked. “There’s no water in the jungle.”

“Plenty of it.”

“Are we near a stream, then?”

“No; the water is all round us, waiting for me to draw it off.”

The girl looked about her.

“What do you mean? I don’t see any. Where is the water?”

“Hanging from the trees,” he replied, laughing. “I’ll admit you into one of the secrets of the jungle. But first I want a fire.”

He gathered dried grass and sticks, cleared a space of earth and built three fires, two on the ground with a large lump of hard clay on either side of each, the third in a hole that he scraped out.

“To be consistent I ought to produce fire by rubbing two pieces of dried wood together, as they do in books of adventure,” he said, turning to the interested girl. “It can be done. I have seen natives do it; but it is a lengthy process and I prefer a match.”

He took out a box and lit the fires.

“Now,” he said, “if you’ll see to these for me, I’ll go and get the kettle and crockery.”

At the far end of the glade was a clump of bamboos. Dermot selected the biggest stem and hacked it down with his kukri. From the thicker end he cut off a length from immediately below a knot to about a foot above it, trimmed the edges and brought it to Noreen. It made a beautifully clean and polished pot, pale green outside, white within.

“There is your kettle and tea-pot,” he said.

From a thinner part he cut off similarly two smaller vessels to serve as cups.

“Now then for the water to fill the kettle,” he said, looking around among the creepers festooning the trees for the pani bêl. When he found the plant he sought, he cut off a length and brought it to the girl, who had never heard of it. Asking her to hold the bamboo pot he filled it with water from the creeper, much to her astonishment.

“How wonderful!” she cried. “Is it really good to drink?”

“Perfectly.”

“But how are you going to boil it?”

“In that bamboo pot.”

“But surely that will burn?”

“No, the water will boil long before the green wood begins to be charred,” replied Dermot, placing the pot over the first fire on the two lumps of clay, so that the flames could reach it.

Then he opened the linen bag, which Noreen found to contain atta, or native flour. Some of this he poured into the round aluminium dish and with water from the pani bêl he mixed dough, rolled it into balls, and patted them into small flat cakes. Over the second fire he placed the iron plate, convex side up, and when it grew hot put the cakes on it.

“How clever of you! You are making chupatis like the natives do,” exclaimed Noreen. “I love them. I get the cook to give them to us for tea often.”

She watched him with interest and amusement, as he turned the cakes over with a dexterous flip when one side browned; then, when they were done, he took them off and piled them on a large leaf.

“Who would ever imagine that you could cook?” Noreen said, laughing. “Do let me help. I feel so lazy.”

“Very well. Look after the chupatis while I get the fowl ready,” he replied.

He cleaned the jungle cock, wrapped it up in a coating of wet clay and laid it in the hot ashes of the third fire, covering it over with the red embers.

Just as he had finished the girl cried: “The water is actually boiling? Who would have believed it possible?”

“Now we are going to have billy tea as they make it in the bush in Australia,” said Dermot, opening the canister and dropping tea from it into the boiling water.

Noreen gathered up a pile of well-toasted chupatis and turned a smiling, dimpled face to him.