A Modern Mercenary by K. Prichard and Hesketh Vernon Hesketh Prichard
CHAPTER XXIV.
ON THE FRONTIER.
The evening train was almost due.
Upon the rise of a bare and windy ridge Rallywood sat on horsebackwaiting. Man and horse seemed to be the only living things between thehorizons. From his point of vantage he looked out over the dim,limitless marshes, north, south and west, and although the growingdarkness rendered the few features of the landscape even lessdistinguishable than usual, his practiced eye passed from point to pointreadily, for the flat map before him had been etched in upon his memoryby the slow-graving stylus of use.
The night promised to be clear and starlit, for the tsa had risen to agale, and a sudden frost succeeding the thaw had already thrust its ironfingers deep into the land. The cold was intense, and a raw wind, thathad blown across a continent and a sea, came down obliquely uponRallywood through a dip in the mountains. On one side the lines of therailway track ran up a curving incline into the Kofn Hills, where, fivemiles away at the bleak Frontier station, officials, imposinglyuniformed, parade the platforms, examine the baggage, and demandpassports in a manner calculated to impress the traveller with an ideaof the immense resources of the State of Maasau. That is one part oftheir duties. The other is slavish obedience. 'Do what you are ordered,and the result will look after itself.' Such is the creed. The firstlesson taught them is that they must not hesitate, and they learn itthoroughly. Westwards the line slipped away into the sweep of low groundtowards Alfau, the first stoppage on the way to Revonde.
Rallywood drew his riding-cloak around him and settled down squarelyinto the saddle. The desolate plains with the crying wind held theloneliness of the damned. Occasionally a wolf howled in the distance, ora wandering snipe cried as it lost itself among the stiffening reedsabout the swampy levels, and through all he could hear the hoarse roarof the Kofn in flood, as it rushed down from its rocky bed, swollen withthe melted snows of yesterday. Another interval passed while the grayoutlook changed to black. Then a red light appeared as it were over theedge of the world. Its coming afforded a certain break in the nakedwhimpering solitude of the plain.
Slowly it crept down the incline, for the engines of Maasau, likeBelgian pistols, are not made for rough usage. Rallywood rode forward tomeet it, the tufts of grass crackling under his horse's feet. Butinstead of slackening pace the chain of lighted carriages swept pasthim, and, gathering speed, wound away into the desolate night.
Rallywood looked after it with a sense of blankness. The Chancellor'sexordium and the Duke's remarks had rather primed him to a state ofexpectation, and he felt as if he had been balked of he knew not what.The green light contracted and died away into the gloom; then discontentmastered him. In his restless mood he had grasped at the situation,which had promised a stirring of the blood, but the train passed andthrust him back with a hand that seemed almost palpable in the stalenessof ordinary life. When he left the Frontier he had left behind him theold content, the humorous adaptability to circumstances which had oncebeen a main element of his character.
Turning his horse's head due west he rode slowly beside the track, wherethe metals had begun to gleam under the stars, and the wind drove behindhim as if driving him out into the waste. He rode on for five minutes.Then he pulled up and listened. Through the whistling of the _tsa_ andthe dull roar of the river, he fancied he had detected some other sound.
Puzzled, he turned and rode back at a hand-gallop in the teeth of thewind. As he rode, the noise became more distinct, and presently out ofthe night something black and bulky came jolting painfully and slowlydown the slope of the railway track.
As Rallywood drew rein alongside, he saw it was a single carriage,unlighted and solitary, rolling aimlessly on towards the level groundthrough the gloom.
Gradually the pace slackened, and at last with a rheumatic jerkbackwards and forwards it came to a standstill. By this time alsoRallywood had perceived that it occupied the further set of rails, onwhich the outgoing trains from Revonde travelled. And already the nightmail could not be far away.
He dropped from his saddle and in a second was feeling for his matches,while the horse fell to sniffing half-heartedly at the meagre herbage.
Rallywood mounted the steps of the carriage, for the platforms in Maasauare very high, and turned the handle. Then, bending forward, he peeredinto the interior, but through the dusk the seats seemed empty.Rallywood stepped inside and lit a match. It sputtered in the frosty airand flickered for a second from the route-maps under the musty racks tothe cushioned seats, and so downwards to a figure heaped on thefloor-rug by the opposite door.
This wandering carriage had then one occupant. Also he gave signs oflife, for he grunted feebly in the dark as the match went out.
Rallywood felt for the lamp above his head, for in Maasau the trains arelighted by oil lanterns let in over the doors. Finding it, he broke theglass with the butt of his revolver and lit the wick; then he turned fora closer examination of the man who had come to him in so strange amanner. But the manner pointed to the fact that this must be theprisoner he was told to hold at Kofn Ford until to-morrow. Politics areapt to work out to curious issues in continental railways. Such thingshave happened many times, though they are not often noised abroad. Theman lay with one arm thrown across the seat and his face buried in it.He was a big man, and a fringe of white hair showed under the back ofhis travelling cap above a crease of fleshy neck.
'Counsellor!'
For an instant Rallywood turned sick and his head felt light. Heremembered feeling the same sensation years before, when a heavyopponent sat abruptly down on his chest in a football scrimmage. Hishands shook as he lifted the inert figure on to the cushions and scannedthe face, sticky and disfigured with blood. After forcing some brandyfrom his flask down Counsellor's throat and unloosing his collar,Rallywood opened the window wide to let the cold air blow in upon him,and fired two shots from his revolver in rapid succession out into thenight. They must have help, for the down mail was already at Alfau.
By this time, Counsellor, grunting and swearing, had got himself up onhis elbow and stared at the young man with vacant eyes.
'Where the deuce have I got to? Is that you, John? By heaven, Iremember!' His fingers went groping weakly to his breast, then with agroan he struggled to his feet. 'The ruffians have robbed me!'
But the effort exhausted him; he sank back putting his hands to hishead.
'I don't understand this. What has happened? John, where am I?'
Rallywood explained hurriedly.
'We're on the up line, Major. Have another pull at my flask, and see ifyou can get to the Ford block-house. The night mail will be on usdirectly. Ah, there are the men,' as a stolid sergeant thrust hisweather-beaten face in at the door.
Rallywood gave the necessary orders rapidly, then turned to the Major.
'Are you badly hurt? Do you think you can ride?' said he.
'Ride! of course I can ride. How far is it to Revonde?'
Rallywood put his arm round him, and helped him very tenderly from thecarriage.
Counsellor stood up in the howling wind and looked about him into thewild night.
'I've had a nasty knock on the head, and I suppose they look to thenight mail to finish the business. Make haste, John! where's your horse?Treachery's afoot to-night. I've lost my despatches--they robbed me ofthem! But I'll beat them all yet! Give me your flask. How far is it toRevonde?'
The troopers had dispersed, some to warn the coming train, others toarrange for the removal of the carriage from the track.
Counsellor had his foot in the stirrup, and with difficulty Rallywoodgot him up into the saddle.
'Thirty miles, but you cannot ride there to-night,' answered Rallywood.
'With your help I'll beat them yet, John! Thirty miles? I'll be therebefore daylight! I can go by the stars once I find the road.'
He stuck his heels into the horse's side, but Rallywood still held thebridle.
A wild gust tore round them, and in the succeeding lull Rallywood laidhis
'Major Counsellor, you are my prisoner,' he said.
'How's this, John?' the question came thin, pitiful and weak. A newdoubt, the old affection, and a strange helplessness mingled in thewords, and they cut deep into Rallywood's ears.
'That was a bad knock on the head,' muttered the Major apologetically,and sank forward on the horse's neck again unconscious.