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  BARCLAY OF THE GUIDES

  BY HERBERT STRANG

  HUMPHREY MILFORDOXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESSLONDON

  _Copyright 1908 in the United States of America_

  REPRINTED 1924 IN GREAT BRITAIN BY R. CLAY AND SONS, LTD.,BUNGAY, SUFFOLK.

  PREFACE

  The great Mutiny embraced so wide an area, in which momentous eventshappened almost simultaneously in places far apart, that it seemedadvisable to confine the historical background of this story to thesiege of Delhi, the city which was the heart of the rebellion. In regardto the historical persons introduced, care has been taken to adhere asclosely as possible to facts; and, where the romancer's licence mustneeds put words into their mouths, to conform to probability and theirknown characters. If the boys who read these pages should care to knowmore of the great men of whom they get glimpses, they will find a storeof good things in _Lumsden of the Guides_, by Sir Peter Lumsden andGeorge R. Elsmie; the _Memoirs of Sir Henry Daly_, by Major H. Daly; _ALeader of Light Horse_ (Hodson), and the _Life of John Nicholson_, bothby Lieut.-Colonel Trotter. The history of the Mutiny, as related in thepages of Kaye and Malleson, will never lose its fascination.

  HERBERT STRANG

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER THE FIRST The Raid

  CHAPTER THE SECOND The Making of a Pathan

  CHAPTER THE THIRD Sky-high

  CHAPTER THE FOURTH The Return of Sherdil

  CHAPTER THE FIFTH Reprisals

  CHAPTER THE SIXTH In the Nets

  CHAPTER THE SEVENTH Jan Larrens

  CHAPTER THE EIGHTH A Competition Wallah

  CHAPTER THE NINTH A Fakir

  CHAPTER THE TENTH The Delhi Road

  CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH The Missy Sahib

  CHAPTER THE TWELFTH Bluff

  CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH Some Lathi-wallahs and a Camel

  CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH Kaluja Dass, Khansaman

  CHAPTER THE FIFTEENTH Within the Gates

  CHAPTER THE SIXTEENTH The Coming of Bakht Khan

  CHAPTER THE SEVENTEENTH The Doctor's Divan

  CHAPTER THE EIGHTEENTH The Spoilers Spoiled

  CHAPTER THE NINETEENTH Asadullah

  CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH Wolf and Jackal

  CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIRST Master and Servant

  CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SECOND The Fight of Bakr-Id

  CHAPTER THE TWENTY-THIRD Ordeal

  CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FOURTH Nikalsain

  CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIFTH The Storming of Delhi

  CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SIXTH Eighty to One

  CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SEVENTH Duty

  EPILOGUE

  GLOSSARY

  CHAPTER THE FIRST

  The Raid

  Ahmed, son of Rahmut Khan, chief of the village of Shagpur, was makinghis lonely way through the hills some three miles above his home. Hecould see the walled village perched on a little tract of grassy landjust where the base of the hills met the sandy plain. It was twothousand feet or more below him, and he could almost count theflat-topped houses clustered beyond his father's tower, which, thoughactually it rose to some height above them, dominating them, andaffording an outlook over miles and miles of the plain, yet appeared toAhmed, at his present altitude, merely a patch in the general level.

  Between him and the village lay three miles of grey rugged hill country,scarred with watercourses, and almost void of vegetation. A mile away,indeed, there was a long stretch of woodland, lying like a great greensmudge upon the monotony of grey. It was a patch of irregular shape,narrowing here, broadening there, filling a valley which bent roundtowards the village. Ahmed was accustomed to shoot there occasionally,but he preferred the more exciting and more dangerous sport of huntingon the hills, where he might stalk his quarry from crag to crag, leapingravines, swarming up abrupt and precipitous cliffs, always in peril of afall that might break his limbs even if it did not crash the life out ofhim. For Ahmed was of a daring disposition, fearless, undauntable, yetpossessed of a certain coolness of judgment by which he had hithertobrought himself unscathed through sixteen years of adventurous boyhood.

  He was a tall, slim, lissom fellow, with very black hair and a swarthyskin, which set off the spotless white of his turban. He wore the loosefrock and baggy trousers of the country. Yet one observing him wouldhave marked certain differences between his features and those of thePathans among whom he dwelt. His nose was arched, but it was thinnerthan was usual among his countrymen. His lips were not so thick astheirs, nor was his mouth so large, and his eyes, instead of coal-black,were of a curious steely-grey. And any one who saw him bathing with thelads of his village (itself a strange pastime, for the hill-men have nogreat partiality for water) would have been struck by the paleness ofhis skin where it was protected from the sun and the weather. Theobserver's conclusion would probably have been that Ahmed was a Pathanof a particularly refined type, and in all likelihood an offshoot ofsome noble family which time's vicissitudes had reduced.

  Ahmed stood for a few moments looking down at Shagpur, then turned topursue his way. He had a fowling-piece slung at his back; his intentionwas to ascend the hills for perhaps another thousand feet, to a spotwhere he would probably come upon a small herd of black-buck. But he hadnot mounted far from the place at which he had paused when he haltedagain, and, putting his left hand above his eyes to shield them from thesun's rays, gazed steadily in a direction away from the village. Belowhim the plain stretched for many miles, bare and desolate, though whenthe rains came by and by it would be clothed with verdure. Scarcely atree broke its level, and so parched was it now that no beast could havefound sustenance there. But far away Ahmed's keen eye had descried whatappeared to be a speck upon the horizon, and he watched it intently.

  There was nothing unusual in the sight itself. Many a time he had seenjust such a speck in the sky, watched it grow in breadth and height,until it stretched across the plain like an immense wall, thirty mileslong, a thousand feet high. He had seen it approach like a monstrousphantom, driving before it, as it were, circling flights of kites andvultures, enveloping the bases of the hills, shutting out the sun withyellow scudding clouds. But such a dust-storm ordinarily swept over theplain southwards: Ahmed had never seen one approach from the west; andafter a long and steady gaze at the speck, which grew slowly in size, hesuddenly dropped his hand, uttered an exclamation in the Pashtu tongue,and turning his back began to retrace his course, at a speed vastlygreater than that at which he had formerly been moving, towards hisdistant village.

  The moving speck had resolved itself into a band of horsemen. They hadbeen too far away for him to distinguish individuals and know who andwhat they were; but, considering the quarter from which they werecoming, his instant thought was that they were an enemy, and it behovedhim to give his people warning. In that wild country of the border raidswere frequent enough. Especially was a warning necessary to-day, for thevillage was in poor condition to defend itself. Only the day before,Rahmut Khan, his father, had ridden out with all the younger men to raidhorses on the British frontier. Ahmed shrewdly suspected that tidings ofthis expedition had been conveyed to Minghal Khan, the chief'sinveterate enemy and rival, and Minghal had taken advantage of it tomake the attack for which he had no doubt long awaited a favourableoccasion. And what occasion could be more favourable than the absence ofthe old warrior on an enterprise from which, if at once successful, hecould not return for five or six days, and which, if he found himself atfirst baulked in it, might occupy him for a fortnight?

  Ahmed was well aware of the danger in which Shagpur lay. The village hada high wall; but he had no belief that t
he gates could withstand theassault of a determined enemy. It would be something to the good,however, if the assailants could be checked for a time, and they mightbe checked by the shutting of the gates. But the villagers could not seefrom the walls the advancing band; unless there was some one on thetower, or Ahmed himself should give warning, the enemy would be uponthem before the gates could be closed, and then it would be a tale ofrapine and massacre. He knew that, make what speed he might, he couldnot, if he followed the way he had come, reach the village before themounted men. The only chance was to gain the wood, through which, beingon a level, he could run fleetly. Swerving, therefore, from the directline to the village, Ahmed scrambled down the rough hillside, leapinglittle chasms, springing from rock to rock with the agility of amountain goat, yet with circumspection, for should he miss his footing asprained ankle would be the least of his mishaps, and Shagpur was lost.

  Down and down he went, stumbling, slipping, barking his shins, but neverheeding such slight mishaps so long as nothing brought him to a check.And now, just as the dark woodland seems at his very feet, he pulls upwith a sudden cry of "Hai!" for in front of him there yawns a ravine,four or five paces across, and many feet deep. He glances to eitherside: a little to the left it narrows slightly, but only by reason of ajagged spit of rock that juts out--a spit so small as barely to affordresting-place to a foot. At every other spot the ravine is even widerthan where he was brought to a halt. He waits but a moment--long enoughto reflect that he dare not go the toilsome way round, lest he arrivetoo late; and then, setting his teeth and clenching his fingers sotightly that the nails press deep into his palms, he takes a leap.Misjudgment of the distance by an inch would dash him into the chasmbelow; but practice has given him perfect command of his muscles; hesprings lightly, confidently; his right foot lands on the precariouslynarrow spit of rock, and as he stoops his body he brings the left footagainst the right; then, just as it would seem that the momentum of hisflight must cause him to sway and stagger and topple over sideways, herises as on springs to his full height, and with another effort of hiswell-trained muscles he hurls himself from the spit on to the broaderledge behind, and is safe.

  Panting as he was, Ahmed sped off without delay. At last he reached theedge of the wood; he plunged into it, and finding a track which he hadoften followed, he ran easily as a deer. When he emerged at the otherend, he dashed across the fields, green with his father's crops, andcame to the gates.

  "Minghal Khan is upon us!" he cried, as he entered. Some young boysplaying in the street took up the cry and ran screaming into theirhouses; old Ahsan, the gate-keeper--now frail and bent, but once thebest rider and the cunningest horse-stealer of Shagpur--came totteringout of his hut.

  "Minghal Khan, say you, Ahmed-ji? That son of a dog!" and he slammed-tothe gates and barred them, muttering curses on the enemy.

  By this time the cries of the children had brought the villagers intothe street. They were for the most part old men and feeble; the youngand able-bodied were with Rahmut Khan; but there were among them a fewmen in the prime of life and some boys of about Ahmed's age.Breathlessly he told them what he had seen.

  "The gates are but as ghi to Minghal," cried old Ahsan. "They will notkeep him out till the sun sets."

  "Then we will go into the tower," said Ahmed, "and shut ourselves upthere until my father returns."

  He ran into his father's house and brought out the chief's two wives andthree daughters, who fled swiftly to the tower upon the wall. Then withthe aid of some of the people he collected what provisions he could; thewomen filled their brass pots with water at the well, and carried themon their heads to the tower; men followed them with arms and ammunition,and with strong balks of wood for barricading the foot of the windingstair. Within ten minutes of Ahmed's arrival in the village all whochose had shut themselves with him in the refuge.

  Not all chose. Even while these preparations were being made some of themen held aloof. Minghal Khan was a younger, wealthier, and more powerfulchief than Rahmut: what was the good of holding out against him? Therehad been for many years a feud between them; such an attack as was nowimminent might long have been foreseen. The more powerful must win: itwas Fate. Had they not known many such cases? Was it not better to yieldto the enemy at once and make their peace with him? Ahmed and old Ahsanhotly protested, appealed to their loyalty, reminded them of what thechief's anger would be when he came back and found that they hadbetrayed him. These appeals were effective with the bolder spirits, butthere was still a good proportion of the villagers who foresaw thattheir chief's dominion was at an end, and were eager to make their ownfuture secure by nailing the rising sun. These remained in the villagestreet, and when, a few minutes after Ahmed and his party had shutthemselves in the tower, the band of horsemen, fifty strong, withMinghal at their head, rode up to the gates and demanded admittance, oneof the disaffected removed the bars and made humble obeisance as therival chief entered.

  The new-comers uttered loud shouts of exultation at the ease of theirvictory, not at first aware of the resolute little band in the tower. Itwas only when Minghal had entered the chief's house and found itdeserted that he suspected what had happened. Then with a grim smile hequestioned the villagers, all most obsequious to their new master; andAhmed, watching the scene from a latticed window high up in the tower,wondered what the smile portended. He expected to see Minghal's mencollect the grain-stuffs and everything else of value that the villagecontained, and then set fire to the houses; but old Ahsan by his side,better acquainted with the long feud which had existed between the twochiefs, stroked his beard and groaned.

  "Hai! hai!" he muttered. "It has come at last. But I am too old, tooold, to serve a new master. Shagpur will have another gate-keeper now,Ahmed-ji."

  "What meanest thou, old man?" asked Ahmed, wondering.

  "Minghal has come not for plunder, but for mastery," was the reply."'Tis what he has meditated for a dozen years; and who can striveagainst Fate? When the master comes back he will find that Shagpur is nolonger his. If he resists he will be slain; if he accepts his lot, hewill be loaded with chains or cast out of the village, a beggar to theend of his days."

  "And what of us, then?" asked Ahmed.

  "Hai!" said the old man. "As for you, I speak not, Ahmed-ji; but for me,I am too old, as I said. I have my knife."

  Ahmed looked into the gate-keeper's face. He read there neither fear nordespair, nothing but a calm resolution. Then he uttered a scornfullaugh.

  "No one can strive against Fate, truly," he said; "but who knows thatFate has given us into Minghal's hand? By the beard of the Prophet,Ahsan----"

  But the old man put his hand on the boy's mouth.

  "Hush, Ahmed-ji," he said, with a sort of stern tenderness; "'tis notmeet, little one, that oath in your mouth. You have well-nigh forgotten,but I do not forget. We are as we were born, and you were born aFeringhi."