The record-union., 1897-03-28
i. What do you mean2,

l
some heat, but you may take it they
are up to some extra deviltry. I've laid
myself out to understand these Childa-
zais. | can talk their lingo more or
less, and my spies have been telling
me of the expected arrival Of Nunga
that's your friend But 1 did not
know he was here
Who or what is he, anyway
The Bun pondered the situation
with the air of war-worn veteran,
and then l saw that he had altered
since we parted down country. AT last
he spoke, grimly enough:
Just what he said. 1t means,
among other things, that the discon-
tent has come to a head Probably the
Fir has got wind of fat caravan on
the road, and that has hastened mat
ters. / tell you, Lake, these hills will
never be clean or quiet until the Pir
has bullet through him, or is lying
by the heels inside the Jail at Lahore.
There's going to be trouble. and you'll
| be in for it.. Though / don't believe
these Childazais will bulge until the
drum beats. After that, daylight will
lind them on the lower hills
They'll force the pass?'
They'll try" said the Bun, rub
bing his head reflectively What do
you think should be done?'
! I didn't see that l had any call to
pay Providence to the Bun, so I replied
that We should keep the paSs-he could
be Horatus, and 1 would be the other
two.
The Bun grinned with an effort.
|
locks, which alters the case a bit he
rejolned. and filled up a big pipe with
dry Indian tobacco, which he smoked
for while in silence
| Look here, Lake he said, when he
had apparently made up his mind to
some course of action, as you are
here, I'll leave you in command of the
fort and III go out and make a recon
noisance with Durda Khan
For some time l followed the Bun,
as he moved about the fort, giving ord
ers and making necessary arrange
ments. The latter included the prep
aration of some torches and balls
cf resinous wood.
You see,' he explained wen need
some light to shoot by if they try to
rush the pass. My word, we'H have
them on the hop!'
After midnight he started with Dur
da~khan who had the reputation of
| being an AL cragsman, and he GER
| fanny looked, when got up for the ex-
| peoltlon, as desperate a cut-throat as
you would care to trust your life to on
a lonely road
| THE long hours dragged by. The
night was thick and stormy, and, on
thinking over our situation in solitude,
l decided that the lookout was not par
| ticularly hopeful.
| Kat was by no means a silent spot.
The wind whistled and shrieked down
| the valleys, and the thunder of the
water seemed to grow louder and more
threatening as the night deepened,
while every now and then a distant rat
ting roar told of some landslip or fall
of stones in the nullahs around.
| Suddenly, as l listened, in a lull of
the storm a new sound arose Two or
three dull booming notes f1oated down
the gorge, followed by long reverber-
ating roll of drums. This was repeat
ed three times, and the deep -mouthed
din seemed to leap and crash across
the chasms. 1t was the most inspirit-
| ing and warlike call to arms l have
| ever heard.
Il had no need to be told what it was.
The War-drum of the Childazais had
spoken, and the revolt was fairly
afoot. But where was the Bun? I
began to be seriously uneasy about him.
1t is acknowledged that a little blood
| shed heartens the beginning of a raid,
and a decisive step, like the cold blood
| ed murder of an English officer, leaves
small room for repentance, as the
tribes we'll know, and is useful besides
in deciding waverers.
| From the rampartS nothing was Wis
ible in the darkness. The wind had
lulled, only chill breeze moaned like
sick child about the walls. Pres
emily it carried to me a sinister inti-
nation. From far away came the
clear ring of steel, and a soft minor
clatter as of wooden -hafted spears. and
| then a continuous hum This ceased.
| and for a long time nothing but the
voices of water wind, and rock could
be distinguished.
"An hour and half passed; still we
| waited and listened, till 1 heard the
sharp, distinct fall of a single stone
| from the crest of cliff to the north. In
stantly I gave the order to light up
|. In a moment a flare of torches shone
out over the terrace and pathway
above the fort, making all clear as
moonlight.
mot a living soul was to be seen, for
all the hum of life which seemed to
pervade the air. Then, from the dim
| mer shadows of the track, a muffled
hillman crossed the path where it wild
ened to meet the terrace, as a weasel
crosses a road.
Il watched him till he disappeared,
when a voice behind me said gently,
| The Pr
"I turned quickly. 1t was the Bun,
wet and bedraggled, but still the Bun.
safe and sound.
MY son, I did not expect YOU
said, greatly relieved. Now that you
propose doing?
Sending them home he answered
quietly, as if that performance was the
simplest thing in the world. Lake
he added. if anything should happen,
you know, hold on, don't let 'em pass!
I've sent a message to Gilgit.
What's going to happen?'
1.-The Lord knows. It's touch and
CO., he replied and left me.
Meantime the Childazais had is
sued in crowding ranks from the mar
row track, some dropping from the
rounding crags, till they filed the lit
tie terrace from end to end. Then they
came to dead stop, and contemplate
ed the rusty muzzles of two old seven