The Adventures of Kathlyn by Harold MacGrath (best novel books to read .txt) 📕

"Ay, Kit, jewels; sapphires and rubies and emeralds, diamonds and pearls and moonstones. And I wanted them for my pretty cubs! Umballa knew that I would return for them and laid his plans. But were they not mine?"

"Yes, if you intended to rule these people; no, if you thought to take them away. Do you not know that to Winnie and me a hair of your head is more precious than the Koh-i-noor? We must put our heads together and plan some way to get out."

She dropped her arms from his shoulders and walked about the cell, searching every stone. Their only hope lay in the window, and that appeared impossible since she had no means of filing through her father's chains and the bars of the window. She returned and sat down beside her father and rested her aching head on her knees, thinking, thinking.

Bruce, struggling with the soldiers (and long since their fat flesh had been stung into such activity!) saw Umballa appear in the corridor.

"Durga Ram," he cried, with a furious effort to free his arms. "Durga Ram, you damnable scoundrel, it would be wise for you to kill me, here and now, for if I ever get free. God help you! O, I shan't kill you; that would be too merciful. But I'll break your bones, one by one, and never more shall you stand and walk. Do you hear me? Where is Kathlyn Hare? She is mine!"

Umballa showed his teeth in what was an attempt to smile. He still saw flashes of fire before his eyes, and it was yet difficult to breathe naturally. Still, he could twist this white man's heart, play with him.

"Take him away. Put him outside the city gates and let him go."

Bruce was greatly astonished at this sign of clemency.

"But," added Umballa, crossing his lips with his tongue, "place him against a wall and shoot him if he is caught within the city. He is mad, and therefore I am lenient. There is no white woman in the palace or in the royal zenana. Off with him!"

"You lie, Durga Ram! You found her in the slave mart to-day."

Umballa shrugged and waved his hand. He could have had Bruce shot at once, but it pleased him to dangle death before the eyes of his rival. He was no fool; he saw the trend of affairs. This young white man loved Kathlyn Hare. All the better, in view of what was to come.

Bruce was conducted to the gate and rudely pushed outside. He turned savagely, but a dozen black officers convinced him that this time he would meet death. Ah, where was Ali, and Ahmed, and the man Lal Singh, who was to notify the English? He found Ali at camp, the chief mahout having been conducted there in an improvised litter. He recounted his experiences.

"I was helpless, Sahib."

"No more than I am, Ali. But be of good cheer; Umballa and I shall meet soon, man to man."

"Allah is Allah; there is no God but God."

"And sometimes," said Bruce, moodily, "he watches over the innocent."

"Ahmed is at Hare Sahib's camp."

"Thanks, Ali; that's the best news I have heard yet. Ahmed will find a way. Take care of yourself. I'm off!"

When Umballa appeared before the council their astonishment knew no bounds. The clay tinted skin, the shaking hands, the disheveled garments—what had happened to this schemer whom ill luck had made their master?

He explained. "I went too near our prisoner. A flash of strength was enough. They shall be flogged."

"But the woman!"

"Woman? She is a tiger-cat, and tiger-cats must sometimes be flogged. It is my will. Now I have news for you. There is another sister, younger and weaker. Our queen," and he salaamed ironically, "our queen did not know that her father lived, and there I made my first mistake."

"But she will now submit to save him!"

"Ah, would indeed that were the case. But tiger-cats are always tiger-cats, and nothing will bend this maid; she must be broken, broken. It is my will," with a flash of fire in his eyes.

The council salaamed. Umballa's will must of necessity be theirs, hate him darkly as they might.

The bungalow of Colonel Hare was something on the order of an armed camp. Native animal keepers, armed with rifles, patrolled the menagerie. No one was to pass the cordon without explaining frank his business, whence he came, and whither he was bound.

By the knees of one of the sentries a little native child was playing. From time to time the happy father would stoop and pat her head.

Presently there was a stir about camp. An elephant shuffled into the clearing. He was halted, made to kneel, and Ahmed stepped out of the howdah.

The little girl ran up to Ahmed joyfully and begged to be put into the howdah. Smiling, Ahmed set her in the howdah, and the mahout bade the elephant to rise, but, interested in some orders by Ahmed, left the beast to his own devices. The child called and the elephant walked off quietly. So long as he remained within range of vision no one paid any attention to him. Finally he passed under a tree near the cages and reached up for some leaves. The child caught hold of a limb and gleefully crawled out upon it some distance beyond the elephant's reach. Once there, she became frightened, not daring to crawl back.

She prattled "elephant talk," but the old fellow could not reach her. The baboon in the near-by cage set up a chattering. The child ordered the elephant to rise on his hind legs. He placed his fore legs on the roof of the baboon's cage, which caved in, rather disturbing the elephant's calm. He sank to the ground.

The baboon leaped through the opening and made off to test this unexpected liberty. He was friendly and tame, but freedom was just then paramount.

The elephant remained under the trees, as if pondering, while the child began to cry loudly. One of the natives saw her predicament and hastened away for assistance.

Achmed was greatly alarmed over the loss of the baboon. It was a camp pet of Colonel Hare's and ran free in camp whenever the colonel was there. He had captured it when a mere baby in British East Africa. The troglodyte, with a strange reasoning yet untranslatable, loved the colonel devotedly and followed him about like a dog and with a scent far keener. So Ahmed and some of the keepers set off in search of the colonel's pet.

He went about the search with only half a heart. Only a little while before he had received the news of what had happened in the slave mart that afternoon. It seemed incredible. To have her fall into Umballa's hands thus easily, when he and Bruce Sahib had searched the jungle far and wide! Well, she was alive; praise Allah for that; and where there was life there was hope.

Later Kathlyn was standing under the cell window gazing at the yellow sunset. Two hours had gone, and no sign of Umballa yet. She shuddered. Had she been alone she would have hunted for something sharp and deadly. But her father; not before him. She must wait. One thing was positive and absolute: Umballa should never embrace her; she was too strong and desperate.

"Kit!"

"Yes, father."

"I have a sharp piece of metal in my pocket. Could you … My God, by my hand!— when he comes?"

"Yes, father; I am not afraid to die, and death seems all that remains. I should bless you. He will be a tiger now."

"My child, God was good to give me a daughter like you."

She turned to him this time and pressed him to her heart.

"It grows dark suddenly," he said.

Kathlyn glanced toward the window.

"Why, it's a baboon!" she exclaimed.

"Jock, Jock!" cried her father excitedly.

The baboon chattered.

"Kit, it's Jock I used to tell you about. He is tame and follows me about like a dog. Jock, poor Jock!"

"Father, have you a pencil?"

"A pencil?" blankly.

"Yes, yes! I can write a note and attach it to Jock. It's a chance."

"Good lord! and you're cool enough to think like that." The colonel went through his pockets feverishly. "Thank God, here's an old stub! But paper?"

Kathlyn tore off a broad blade of grass from her dress and wrote carefully upon it. If it fell into the hands of the natives they would not understand, If the baboon returned to camp … It made her weak to realize how slender the chance was. She took the tabouret and placed it beneath the window and stood upon it.

"Jock, here, Jock!"

The baboon gave her his paws. Deftly she tied the blade of grass round his neck. Then she struck her hands together violently. The baboon vanished, frightened at this unexpected treatment.

"He is gone."

The colonel did not reply, but began to examine his chains minutely.

"Kit, there's no getting me out of here without files. If there is any rescue you go and return. Promise."

"I promise."

Then they sat down to wait.

And Ahmed in his search came to the river. Some natives were swimming and sporting in the water. Ahmed put a question. Oh, yes, they had seen the strange-looking ape (for baboons did not habitate this part of the world); he had gone up one of the trees near by. Colonel Hare had always used a peculiar whistle to bring Jock, and Ahmed resorted to this device. Half an hour's perseverance rewarded him; and then he found the blade of grass.

"Dungeon window by tree. Kathlyn."

That was sufficient for Ahmed. He turned the baboon over to the care of one of his subordinates and hurried away to Bruce's camp, only to find that he had gone to the colonel's. Away went Ahmed again, tireless. He found Bruce pacing the bungalow frontage.

"Ahmed."

"Yes, Sahib. Listen." He told his tale quickly.

"The guards at all the gates have orders to shoot me if they catch me within the walls of the city. I must disguise myself in some way."

"I'll find you an Arab burnoose, hooded, Sahib, and that will hide you. It will be dark by the time we reach the city, and we'll enter by one of the other gates. That will allay suspicion. First we must seek the house of Ramabai. I need money for bribery."

Bruce searched his wallet. It was empty. He had given all he had to the Brahmin.

"You lead, Ahmed. I'm dazed."

In the city few knew anything about Ahmed, not even the keenest of Umballa's spies. Umballa had his suspicions, but as yet he could prove nothing. To the populace he was a harmless animal trainer who was only too glad not in any way to be implicated with his master. So they let him alone. Day by day he waited for the report from Lal Singh, but so far he had heard nothing except that the British Raj was very busy killing the followers of the Mahdi in the Soudan. It was a subtle inference that for the present all aliens in Allaha must look out for themselves.

"Sahib," he whispered, "I have learned something. Day after day I have been waiting, hoping. Colonel Sahib lives, but where I know not."

"Lives!"

"Ai! In yonder prison where later we go. He lives. That is enough for his servant. He is my father and my mother, and I would die for him and his. Ah! Here is the north gate. Bend your head, Sahib, when we pass."

They entered the city without mishap. No one questioned them. Indeed, they were but two in a dozen who passed in at the same time. They threaded the narrow streets quickly, skirting the glow of many dung fires for fear that Bruce's leggings might be revealed under his burnoose.

When at length they came to the house of Ramabai they did not seek to