第17章

TheTurksclearlyexpectedaninfantryattack，fortheyweresendingupcalciumrocketsandVeryflares。TheRussianswerebatteringtheirlineandsprayingallthehinterland，notwithshrapnel，butwithgood，solidhigh—explosives。Theplacewouldbeasbrightasdayforamoment，allsmotheredinascurryofsmokeandsnowanddebris，andthenablackpallwouldfallonit，whenonlythethunderofthegunstoldofthebattle。

Peterfeltverysick。Hehadnotbelievedtherecouldbesomuchnoiseintheworld，andthedrumsofhisearsweresplitting。Now，foramantowhomcourageishabitual，thetasteoffear—naked，utterfear—isahorriblething。Itseemstowashawayallhismanhood。Peterlayonthecrest，watchingtheshellsburst，andconfidentthatanymomenthemightbeashatteredremnant。Helayandreasonedwithhimself，callinghimselfeverynamehecouldthinkof，butconsciousthatnothingwouldgetridofthatlumpoficebelowhisheart。

Thenhecouldstanditnolonger。Hegotupandranforhislife。

Butheranforward。

Itwasthecraziestperformance。Hewenthell—for—leatheroverapieceofgroundwhichwasbeingwateredwithH。E。，butbythemercyofheavennothinghithim。Hetooksomefearsometossesinshell—holes，butpartlyerectandpartlyonallfourshedidthefiftyyardsandtumbledintoaTurkishtrenchrightontopofadeadman。

Thecontactwiththatbodybroughthimtohissenses。Thatmencoulddieatallseemedacomforting，homelythingafterthatunnaturalpandemonium。Thenextmomentacrumptooktheparapetofthetrenchsomeyardstohisleft，andhewashalfburiedinanavalanche。

Hecrawledoutofthat，prettybadlycutaboutthehead。Hewasquitecoolnowandthinkinghardabouthisnextstep。Thereweremenallaroundhim，sullendarkfacesashesawthemwhentheflareswentup。Theyweremanningtheparapetsandwaitingtenselyforsomethingelsethantheshelling。Theypaidnoattentiontohim，forIfancyinthattrenchunitswereprettywellmixedup，andunderabadbombardmentnoonebothersabouthisneighbour。Hefoundhimselffreetomoveashepleased。Thegroundofthetrenchwaslitteredwithemptycartridge—cases，andthereweremanydeadbodies。

Thelastshell，asIhavesaid，hadplayedhavocwiththeparapet。

InthenextspellofdarknessPetercrawledthroughthegapandtwistedamongsomesnowyhillocks。Hewasnolongerafraidofshells，anymorethanhewasafraidofaveldthunderstorm。ButhewaswonderingveryhardhowheshouldevergettotheRussians。

TheTurkswerebehindhimnow，buttherewasthebiggestdangerinfront。

Thentheartilleryceased。Itwassosuddenthathethoughthehadgonedeaf，andcouldhardlyrealizetheblessedreliefofit。Thewind，too，seemedtohavefallen，orperhapshewasshelteredbytheleeofthehill。Therewerealotofdeadherealso，andthathecouldn’tunderstand，fortheywerenewdead。HadtheTurksattackedandbeendrivenback？Whenhehadgoneaboutthirtyyardshestoppedtotakehisbearings。Ontherightweretheruinsofalargebuildingsetonfirebytheguns。Therewasablurofwoodsandthedebrisofwallsroundit。Awaytotheleftanotherhillranoutfarthertotheeast，andtheplacehewasinseemedtobeakindofcupbetweenthespurs。justbeforehimwasalittleruinedbuilding，withtheskyseenthroughitsrafters，forthesmoulderingruinontherightgaveacertainlight。HewonderediftheRussianfiring—linelaythere。

justthenheheardvoices—smotheredvoices—notayardawayandapparentlybelowtheground。Heinstantlyjumpedtowhatthismustmean。ItwasaTurkishtrench—acommunicationtrench。

Peterdidn’tknowmuchaboutmodernwarfare，buthehadreadinthepapers，orheardfromme，enoughtomakehimdrawtherightmoral。Thefreshdeadpointedtothesameconclusion。WhathehadgotthroughweretheTurkishsupporttrenches，nottheirfiring—line。

Thatwasstillbeforehim。

Hedidn’tdespair，forthereboundfrompanichadmadehimextracourageous。Hecrawledforward，aninchatatime，takingnosortofrisk，andpresentlyfoundhimselflookingattheparadosofatrench。Thenhelayquiettothinkoutthenextstep。

Theshellinghadstopped，andtherewasthatqueerkindofpeacewhichfallssometimesontwoarmiesnotaquarterofamiledistant。

Petersaidhecouldhearnothingbutthefar—offsighingofthewind。Thereseemedtobenomovementofanykindinthetrenchbeforehim，whichranthroughtheruinedbuilding。Thelightoftheburningwasdying，andhecouldjustmakeoutthemoundofearthayardinfront。Hebegantofeelhungry，andgotouthispacketoffoodandhadaswigatthebrandyflask。Thatcomfortedhim，andhefeltamasterofhisfateagain。Butthenextstepwasnotsoeasy。Hemustfindoutwhatlaybehindthatmoundofearth。

Suddenlyacurioussoundfellonhisears。Itwassofaintthatatfirsthedoubtedtheevidenceofhissenses。Thenasthewindfellitcamelouder。Itwasexactlylikesomehollowpieceofmetalbeingstruckbyastick，musicalandoddlyresonant。

Heconcludeditwasthewindblowingabranchofatreeagainstanoldboilerintheruinbeforehim。Thetroublewasthattherewasscarcelyenoughwindnowforthatinthisshelteredcup。

Butashelistenedhecaughtthenoteagain。Itwasabell，afallenbell，andtheplacebeforehimmusthavebeenachapel。HerememberedthatanArmenianmonasteryhadbeenmarkedonthebigmap，andheguesseditwastheburnedbuildingonhisright。

Thethoughtofachapelandabellgavehimthenotionofsomehumanagency。Andthensuddenlythenotionwasconfirmed。Thesoundwasregularandconcerted—dot，dash，dot—dash，dot，dot。

Thebranchofatreeandthewindmayplaystrangepranks，buttheydonotproducethelongsandshortsoftheMorseCode。

ThiswaswherePeter’sintelligenceworkintheBoerWarhelpedhim。HeknewtheMorse，hecouldreadit，buthecouldmakenothingofthesignalling。Itwaseitherinsomespecialcodeorinastrangelanguage。

Helaystillanddidsomecalmthinking。Therewasamaninfrontofhim，aTurkishsoldier，whowasintheenemy’spay。Thereforehecouldfraternizewithhim，fortheywereonthesameside。Buthowwashetoapproachhimwithoutgettingshotintheprocess？Again，howcouldamansendsignalstotheenemyfromafiring—linewithoutbeingdetected？Peterfoundananswerinthestrangeconfigurationoftheground。Hehadnotheardasounduntilhewasafewyardsfromtheplace，andtheywouldbeinaudibletomeninthereservetrenchesandeveninthecommunicationtrenches。Ifsomebodymovingupthelattercaughtthenoise，itwouldbeeasytoexplainitnaturally。Butthewindblowingdownthecupwouldcarryitfarintheenemy’sdirection。

Thereremainedtheriskofbeingheardbythoseparallelwiththebellinthefiringtrenches。Peterconcludedthatthattrenchmustbeverythinlyheld，probablyonlybyafewobservers，andthenearestmightbeadozenyardsoff。HehadreadaboutthatbeingtheFrenchfashionunderabigbombardment。

Thenextthingwastofindouthowtomakehimselfknowntothisally。Hedecidedthattheonlywaywastosurprisehim。Hemightgetshot，buthetrustedtohisstrengthandagilityagainstamanwhowasalmostcertainlywearied。Whenhehadgothimsafe，explanationsmightfollow。

Peterwasnowenjoyinghimselfhugely。Ifonlythoseinfernalgunskeptsilenthewouldplayoutthegameinthesober，decorouswayheloved。Soverydelicatelyhebegantowriggleforwardtowherethesoundwas。

Thenightwasnowasblackasinkaroundhim，andveryquiet，too，exceptforsoughingsofthedyinggale。Thesnowhaddriftedalittleintheleeoftheruinedwalls，andPeter’sprogresswasnaturallyveryslow。Hecouldnotaffordtodislodgeoneounceofsnow。Stillthetinklingwenton，nowingreatervolume。Peterwasinterrorlestitshouldceasebeforehegothisman。

Presentlyhishandclutchedatemptyspace。Hewasonthelipofthefronttrench。Thesoundwasnowayardtohisright，andwithinfinitecareheshiftedhisposition。Nowthebellwasjustbelowhim，andhefeltthebigrafterofthewoodworkfromwhichithadfallen。Hefeltsomethingelse—astretchofwirefixedinthegroundwiththefarendhanginginthevoid。Thatwouldbethespy’sexplanationifanyoneheardthesoundandcameseekingthecause。

Somewhereinthedarknessbeforehimandbelowwastheman，notayardoff。Peterremainedverystill，studyingthesituation。Hecouldnotsee，buthecouldfeelthepresence，andhewastryingtodecidetherelativepositionofthemanandbellandtheirexactdistancefromhim。Thethingwasnotsoeasyasitlooked，forifhejumpedforwherehebelievedthefigurewas，hemightmissitandgetabulletinthestomach。Amanwhoplayedsoriskyagamewasprobablyhandywithhisfirearms。Besides，ifheshouldhitthebell，hewouldmakeahideousrowandalarmthewholefront。

Fatesuddenlygavehimtherightchance。Theunseenfigurestoodupandmovedastep，tillhisbackwasagainsttheparados。

HeactuallybrushedagainstPeter’selbow，whoheldhisbreath。

ThereisacatchthattheKaffirshavewhichwouldneedseveraldiagramstoexplain。Itispartlyaneckhold，andpartlyaparalysingbackwardtwistoftherightarm，butifitispractisedonamanfrombehind，itlockshimassureasifhewerehandcuffed。Peterslowlygothisbodyraisedandhiskneesdrawnunderhim，andreachedforhisprey。

Hegothim。Aheadwaspulledbackwardovertheedgeofthetrench，andhefeltintheairthemotionoftheleftarmpawingfeeblybutunabletoreachbehind。

’Bestill，’whisperedPeterinGerman;’Imeanyounoharm。Wearefriendsofthesamepurpose。DoyouspeakGerman？’

’_Nein，’saidamuffledvoice。

’English？’

’Yes，’saidthevoice。

’ThankGod，’saidPeter。’Thenwecanunderstandeachother。

I’vewatchedyournotionofsignalling，andaverygoodoneitis。

I’vegottogetthroughtotheRussianlinessomehowbeforemorning，andIwantyoutohelpme。I’mEnglish—akindofEnglish，sowe’reonthesameside。IfIletgoyourneck，willyoubegoodandtalkreasonably？’

Thevoiceassented。Peterletgo，andinthesameinstantslippedtotheside。Themanwheeledroundandflungoutanarmbutgrippedvacancy。

’Steady，friend，’saidPeter;’youmustn’tplaytrickswithmeorI’llbeangry。’

’Whoareyou？Whosentyou？’askedthepuzzledvoice。

Peterhadahappythought。’TheCompanionsoftheRosyHours，’

hesaid。

’Thenarewefriendsindeed，’saidthevoice。’Comeoutofthedarkness，friend，andIwilldoyounoharm。IamagoodTurk，andIfoughtbesidetheEnglishinKordofanandlearnedtheirtongue。I

liveonlytoseetheruinofEnver，whohasbeggaredmyfamilyandslainmytwinbrother。ThereforeIservethe_Muscov_ghiaours。’

’Idon’tknowwhattheMuskyjawsare，butifyoumeantheRussiansI’mwithyou。I’vegotnewsforthemwhichwillmakeEnvergreen。Thequestionis，howI’mtogettothem，andthatiswhereyoushallhelpme，myfriend。’

’How？’

’Byplayingthatlittletuneofyoursagain。Tellthemtoexpectwithinthenexthalf—houradeserterwithanimportantmessage。

Tellthem，forGod’ssake，nottofireatanybodytillthey’vemadecertainitisn’tme。’

Themantookthebluntendofhisbayonetandsquattedbesidethebell。Thefirststrokebroughtoutaclear，searchingnotewhichfloateddownthevalley。Hestruckthreenotesatslowintervals。

Foralltheworld，Petersaid，hewaslikeatelegraphoperatorcallingupastation。

’SendthemessageinEnglish，’saidPeter。

’Theymaynotunderstandit，’saidtheman。

’Thensenditanywayyoulike。Itrustyou，forwearebrothers。’

Aftertenminutesthemanceasedandlistened。Fromfarawaycamethesoundofatrench—gong，thekindofthingtheyusedontheWesternFronttogivethegas—alarm。

’Theysaytheywillbeready，’hesaid。’Icannottakedownmessagesinthedarkness，buttheyhavegivenmethesignalwhichmeans"Consent"。’

’Come，thatisprettygood，’saidPeter。’AndnowImustbemoving。Youtakeahintfromme。Whenyouhearbigfiringuptothenorthgetreadytobeataquickretreat，foritwillbeallupwiththatcityofyours。Andtellyourfolk，too，thatthey’remakingabadmistakelettingthosefoolGermansruletheirland。LetthemhangEnverandhislittlefriends，andwe’llbehappyoncemore。’

’MaySatanreceivehissoul！’saidtheTurk。’Thereiswirebeforeus，butIwillshowyouawaythrough。Thegunsthiseveningmademanyrentsinit。Buthaste，foraworkingpartymaybeherepresentlytorepairit。Rememberthereismuchwirebeforetheotherlines。’

Peter，withcertaindirections，founditprettyeasytomakehiswaythroughtheentanglement。Therewasonebitwhichscrapedaholeinhisback，butverysoonhehadcometothelastpostsandfoundhimselfinopencountry。Theplace，hesaid，wasagraveyardoftheunburieddeadthatsmelthorriblyashecrawledamongthem。Hehadnoinducementstodelay，forhethoughthecouldhearbehindhimthemovementoftheTurkishworkingparty，andwasinterrorthataflaremightrevealhimandavolleyaccompanyhisretreat。

Fromoneshell—holetoanotherhewormedhisway，tillhestruckanoldruinouscommunicationtrenchwhichledintherightdirection。

TheTurksmusthavebeenforcedbackinthepastweek，andtheRussianswerenowintheevacuatedtrenches。Thethingwashalffullofwater，butitgavePeterafeelingofsafety，foritenabledhimtogethisheadbelowtheleveloftheground。Thenitcametoanendandhefoundbeforehimaforestofwire。

TheTurkinhissignalhadmentionedhalfanhour，butPeterthoughtitwasnearertwohoursbeforehegotthroughthatnoxiousentanglement。Shellinghadmadelittledifferencetoit。Theuprightswereallthere，andthebarbedstrandsseemedtotouchtheground。

Remember，hehadnowire—cutter;nothingbuthisbarehands。

Onceagainfeargotholdofhim。Hefeltcaughtinanet，withmonstrousvultureswaitingtopounceonhimfromabove。Atanymomentaflaremightgoupandadozenriflesfindtheirmark。Hehadaltogetherforgottenaboutthemessagewhichhadbeensent，fornomessagecoulddissuadetheever—presentdeathhefeltaroundhim。Itwas，hesaid，likefollowinganoldlionintobushwhentherewasbutonenarrowwayin，andnoroadout。

Thegunsbeganagain—theTurkishgunsfrombehindtheridge—andashelltoreupthewireashortwaybeforehim。Undercoverofthebursthemadegoodafewyards，leavinglargeportionsofhisclothinginthestrands。Then，quitesuddenly，whenhopehadalmostdiedinhisheart，hefeltthegroundrisesteeply。Helayverystill，astar—rocketfromtheTurkishsidelituptheplace，andthereinfrontwasarampartwiththepointsofbayonetsshowingbeyondit。ItwastheRussianhourforstand—to。

Heraisedhiscrampedlimbsfromthegroundandshouted’Friend！English！’

Afacelookeddownathim，andthenthedarknessagaindescended。

’Friend，’hesaidhoarsely。’English。’

Heheardspeechbehindtheparapet。Anelectrictorchwasflashedonhimforasecond。Avoicespoke，afriendlyvoice，andthesoundofitseemedtobetellinghimtocomeover。

Hewasnowstandingup，andashegothishandsontheparapetheseemedtofeelbayonetsverynearhim。Butthevoicethatspokewaskindly，sowithaheavehescrambledoverandfloppedintothetrench。Oncemoretheelectrictorchwasflashed，andrevealedtotheeyesoftheonlookersanindescribablydirty，lean，middle—agedmanwithabloodyhead，andscarcelyaragofshirtonhisback。

Thesaidman，seeingfriendlyfacesaroundhim，grinnedcheerfully。

’Thatwasaroughtrek，friends，’hesaid;’Iwanttoseeyourgeneralprettyquick，forI’vegotapresentforhim。’

Hewastakentoanofficerinadug—out，whoaddressedhiminFrench，whichhedidnotunderstand。ButthesightofStumm’splanworkedwonders。Afterthathewasfairlybundleddowncommunicationtrenchesandthenoverswampyfieldstoafarmamongtrees。Therehefoundstaffofficers，wholookedathimandlookedathismap，andthenputhimonahorseandhurriedhimeastwards。Atlasthecametoabigruinedhouse，andwastakenintoaroomwhichseemedtobefullofmapsandgenerals。

TheconclusionmustbetoldinPeter’swords。

’Therewasabigmansittingatatabledrinkingcoffee，andwhenI

sawhimmyheartjumpedoutofmyskin。ForitwasthemanI

huntedwithonthePungwein’98—himwhomtheKaffirscalled"Buck’sHorn"，becauseofhislongcurledmoustaches。Hewasaprinceeventhen，andnowheisaverygreatgeneral。WhenIsawhim，Iranforwardandgrippedhishandandcried，"__Hoegathet，_Mynheer？"andheknewmeandshoutedinDutch，"Damn，ifitisn’toldPeterPienaar！"Thenhegavemecoffeeandhamandgoodbread，andhelookedatmymap。

’"Whatisthis？"hecried，growingredintheface。

’"Itisthestaff—mapofoneStumm，aGerman_skellumwhocommandsinyoncity，"Isaid。

’Helookedatitcloseandreadthemarkings，andthenhereadtheotherpaperwhichyougaveme，Dick。Andthenheflunguphisarmsandlaughed。Hetookaloafandtosseditintotheairsothatitfellontheheadofanothergeneral。Hespoketothemintheirowntongue，andthey，too，laughed，andoneortworanoutasifonsomeerrand。Ihaveneverseensuchmerrymaking。Theywereclevermen，andknewtheworthofwhatyougaveme。

’Thenhegottohisfeetandhuggedme，alldirtyasIwas，andkissedmeonbothcheeks。

’"BeforeGod，Peter，"hesaid，"you’rethemightiesthuntersinceNimrod。You’veoftenfoundmegame，butnevergamesobigasthis！"’

CHAPTERTWENTY—ONE

TheLittleHillItwasawisemanwhosaidthatthebiggestkindofcouragewastobeabletositstill。IusedtofeelthatwhenweweregettingshelledinthereservetrenchesoutsideVermelles。IfeltitbeforewewentovertheparapetsatLoos，butIneverfeltitsomuchasonthelasttwodaysinthatcellar。Ihadsimplytosetmyteethandtakeapullonmyself。PeterhadgoneonacrazyerrandwhichIscarcelybelievedcouldcomeoff。TherewerenosignsofSandy;somewherewithinahundredyardshewasfightinghisownbattles，andIwastormentedbythethoughtthathemightgetjumpyagainandwreckeverything。AstrangeCompanionbroughtusfood，amanwhospokeonlyTurkishandcouldtellusnothing;Hussin，Ijudged，wasbusyaboutthehorses。IfIcouldonlyhavedonesomethingtohelponmattersIcouldhavescotchedmyanxiety，buttherewasnothingtobedone，nothingbutwaitandbrood。ItellyouIbegantosympathizewiththegeneralbehindthelinesinabattle，thefellowwhomakestheplanwhichothersexecute。Leadingachargecanbenothinglikesonerve—shakingabusinessassittinginaneasy—chairandwaitingonthenewsofit。

Itwasbittercold，andwespentmostofthedaywrappedinourgreatcoatsandburieddeepinthestraw。Blenkironwasamarvel。

TherewasnolightforhimtoplayPatienceby，buthenevercomplained。Hesleptalotofthetime，andwhenhewasawaketalkedascheerilyasifhewerestartingoutonaholiday。Hehadonegreatcomfort，hisdyspepsiawasgone。HesanghymnsconstantlytothebenignProvidencethathadsquaredhisduodenum。

Myonlyoccupationwastolistenfortheguns。ThefirstdayafterPeterlefttheywereveryquietonthefrontnearestus，butinthelateeveningtheystartedaterrificracket。Thenextdaytheyneverstoppedfromdawntodusk，sothatitremindedmeofthattremendousforty—eighthoursbeforeLoos。ItriedtoreadintothissomeproofthatPeterhadgotthrough，butitwouldnotwork。Itlookedmoreliketheopposite，forthisdesperatehammeringmustmeanthatthefrontalassaultwasstilltheRussiangame。

TwoorthreetimesIclimbedonthehousetopforfreshair。

Thedaywasfoggyanddamp，andIcouldseeverylittleofthecountryside。TransportwasstillbumpingsouthwardalongtheroadtothePalantuken，andtheslowwagon—loadsofwoundedreturning。

OnethingInoticed，however;therewasaperpetualcomingandgoingbetweenthehouseandthecity。Motorsandmountedmessengerswereconstantlyarrivinganddeparting，andIconcludedthatHildavonEinemwasgettingreadyforherpartinthedefenceofErzerum。

TheseascentswereallonthefirstdayafterPeter’sgoing。Thesecondday，whenItriedthetrap，Ifounditclosedandheavilyweighted。Thismusthavebeendonebyourfriends，andveryright，too。Ifthehousewerebecomingaplaceofpublicresort，itwouldneverdoformetobejourneyingroof—ward。

LateonthesecondnightHussinreappeared。Itwasaftersupper，whenBlenkironhadgonepeacefullytosleepandIwasbeginningtocountthehourstillthemorning。Icouldnotcloseaneyeduringthesedaysandnotmuchatnight。

Hussindidnotlightalantern。Iheardhiskeyinthelock，andthenhislightstepclosetowherewelay。

’Areyouasleep？’hesaid，andwhenIansweredhesatdownbesideme。

’Thehorsesarefound，’hesaid，’andtheMasterbidsmetellyouthatwestartinthemorningthreehoursbeforedawn。’

Itwaswelcomenews。’Tellmewhatishappening，’Ibegged;’wehavebeenlyinginthistombforthreedaysandheardnothing。’

’Thegunsarebusy，’hesaid。’TheAllemanscometothisplaceeveryhour，Iknownotforwhat。Alsotherehasbeenagreatsearchforyou。Thesearchershavebeenhere，buttheyweresentawayempty……Sleep，mylord，forthereiswildworkbeforeus。’

Ididnotsleepmuch，forIwasstrungtoohighwithexpectation，andIenviedBlenkironhisnoweupepticslumbers。ButforanhourorsoIdroppedoff，andmyoldnightmarecameback。OnceagainI

wasinthethroatofapass，hotlypursued，strainingforsomesanctuarywhichIknewImustreach。ButIwasnolongeralone。

Otherswerewithme:howmanyIcouldnottell，forwhenItriedtoseetheirfacestheydissolvedinmist。Deepsnowwasunderfoot，agreyskywasoverus，blackpeakswereonallsides，butaheadinthemistofthepasswasthatcurious_castrolwhichIhadfirstseeninmydreamontheErzerumroad。

Isawitdistinctineverydetail。Itrosetotheleftoftheroadthroughthepass，aboveahollowwheregreatbouldersstoodoutinthesnow。Itssidesweresteep，sothatthesnowhadslippedoffinpatches，leavingstretchesofglisteningblackshale。The_kranzatthetopdidnotrisesheer，butslopedatanangleofforty—five，andontheverysummitthereseemedahollow，asiftheearthwithintherock—rimhadbeenbeatenbyweatherintoacup。

ThatisoftenthewaywithaSouthAfrican_castrol，andIknewitwassowiththis。Wewerestrainingforit，butthesnowcloggedus，andourenemieswereveryclosebehind。

ThenIwasawakenedbyafigureatmyside。’Getready，mylord，’itsaid;’itisthehourtoride。’

Likesleep—walkerswemovedintothesharpair。Hussinledusoutofanoldposternandthenthroughaplacelikeanorchardtotheshelterofsometallevergreentrees。Therehorsesstood，champingquietlyfromtheirnosebags。’Good，’Ithought;’afeedofoatsbeforeabigeffort。’

Therewereninebeastsfornineriders。Wemountedwithoutawordandfiledthroughagroveoftreestowhereabrokenpalingmarkedthebeginningofcultivatedland。ThereforthematteroftwentyminutesHussinchosetoguideusthroughdeep，cloggingsnow。Hewantedtoavoidanysoundtillwewerewellbeyondearshotofthehouse。Thenwestruckaby—pathwhichpresentlymergedinahardhighway，running，asIjudged，south—westbywest。Therewedelayednolonger，butgallopedfuriouslyintothedark。

Ihadgotbackallmyexhilaration。IndeedIwasintoxicatedwiththemovement，andcouldhavelaughedoutloudandsung。Undertheblackcanopyofthenightperilsareeitherforgottenorterriblyalive。Minewereforgotten。ThedarknessIgallopedintoledmetofreedomandfriends。Yes，andsuccess，whichIhadnotdaredtohopeandscarcelyeventodreamof。

Hussinrodefirst，withmeathisside。IturnedmyheadandsawBlenkironbehindme，evidentlymortallyunhappyaboutthepacewesetandthemounthesat。Heusedtosaythathorse—exercisewasgoodforhisliver，butitwasagentleambleandashortgallopthatheliked，andnotthismadhelter—skelter。Histhighsweretooroundtofitasaddleleather。Wepassedafireinahollow，thebivouacofsomeTurkishunit，andallthehorsesshiedviolently。IknewbyBlenkiron’soathsthathehadlosthisstirrupsandwassittingonhishorse’sneck。

Besidehimrodeatallfigureswathedtotheeyesinwrappings，andwearingroundhisnecksomekindofshawlwhoseendsfloatedbehindhim。Sandy，ofcourse，hadnoEuropeanulster，foritwasmonthssincehehadwornproperclothes。Iwantedtospeaktohim，butsomehowIdidnotdare。Hisstillnessforbademe。Hewasawonderfulfinehorseman，withhisfirmEnglishhuntingseat，anditwasaswell，forhepaidnoattentiontohisbeast。Hisheadwasstillfullofunquietthoughts。

Thentheairaroundmebegantosmellacridandraw，andIsawthatafogwaswindingupfromthehollows。

’Here’sthedevil’sownluck，’IcriedtoHussin。’Canyouguideusinamist？’

’Idonotknow。’Heshookhishead。’Ihadcountedonseeingtheshapeofthehills。’

’We’veamapandcompass，anyhow。Butthesemakeslowtravelling。

PrayGoditlifts！’

Presentlytheblackvapourchangedtogrey，andthedaybroke。

Itwaslittlecomfort。Thefogrolledinwavestothehorses’ears，andridingattheheadofthepartyIcouldbutdimlyseethenextrank。

’Itistimetoleavetheroad，’saidHussin，’orwemaymeetinquisitivefolk。’

Westrucktotheleft，overgroundwhichwasforalltheworldlikeaScotchmoor。Therewerepoolsofrainonit，andmassesoftangledsnow—ladenjunipers，andlongreefsofwetslatystone。Itwasbadgoing，andthefogmadeithopelesstosteeragoodcourse。

Ihadoutthemapandthecompass，andtriedtofixourroutesoastoroundtheflankofaspurofthemountainswhichseparatedusfromthevalleywewereaimingat。

’There’sastreamaheadofus，’IsaidtoHussin。’Isitfordable？’

’Itisonlyatrickle，’hesaid，coughing。’ThisaccursedmistisfromEblis。’ButIknewlongbeforewereacheditthatitwasnotrickle。Itwasahillstreamcomingdowninspate，and，asIsoonguessed，inadeepravine。Presentlywewereatitsedge，onelongwhirlofyeastyfallsandbrownrapids。WecouldassoongethorsesoveritastothetopmostcliffsofthePalantuken。

Hussinstaredatitinconsternation。’MayAllahforgivemyfolly，forIshouldhaveknown。Wemustreturntothehighwayandfindabridge。Mysorrow，thatIshouldhaveledmylordssoill。’

Backoverthatmoorwewentwithmyspiritsbadlydamped。Wehadnonetoolongastart，andHildavonEinemwouldrouseheavenandearthtocatchusup。Hussinwasforcingthepace，forhisanxietywasasgreatasmine。