Army and Navy Weekly — page 32: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

1086 ‘*T don’t believe we can do, either,’’ replied Nigei; ‘but, as you say, we are not likely to get another op- portunity to rescue the girl.”’ ‘<I?’m sure we won’t,’’ Hawksmoor declared. ‘‘Come, there is no time to lose.’’ They hastily crept through the trees and bushes until they were about twenty feet from the base of the wall, and here they halted in a sheltering thicket. The bal- cony was close overhead now, and Muriél was still there alone, still gazing over the parapet at the great black bulk of the mountain. ‘Don’t take her too much by surprise,’’ said Hawks- moor. ‘‘How will she stand it?”’ ‘‘She has plenty of nerve—sho. won’t betray herself,’’ Nigel whispered; and with that be began to sing, ina low, quivering voice: | “By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking eastward to the sea, There’s a Burmah girl a-sitting, and——” Muriel started ever so little, and her slim form straightened. She looked furtively down from the bal- cony, darted a quick glance over her shoulder, then, carelessly, her sweet voice took up the familiar words: “For the wind isin the palm trees, and the temple bells they say, ‘ ‘Come you back, you British soldier—come you back to Maudalay! ” ‘. There was a brief instant of silence. So far al]l was well. The girl understood, and was on her guard. Nigel rose a little and waved a hand above the thicket. ‘*Muriel, have courage!’’ he called in a whisper. ‘‘Hriends are near. Is it safe to speak?’’ ‘‘Mr. Davenant!’? the girl murmured distinctly. ‘‘Oh, thank God! Heaven surely sent you! But how can you rescue me from this dreadful place? I am closely guarded, and I fear it is impossible——”’ She stopped abruptly, made a warning gesture, and turned round with a look of fright. And instantly, be- fore the men below could realize that danger threat- ened, a fierce-looking native wonian darted from the arched doorway. Witha shrill ery she seized Muriel and dragged her by main force from the balcony into the room. Again and again the shrill voice rang out, bringing immediate responses from different direc- tions: and the deep, savage baying of a hound, evi- dently close by in the garden, gave the Englishmen warning of a worse peril. ‘¢*Run—run for your life!’? exclaimed Hawksmoor. ‘*Tt’s all up with our plan!”’ ‘‘But Muriel?’’ cried Nigel. nothing to save her?’’ ‘¢Nothing, Davenant! You are mad to dream of it! It’s doubtful if we can save ourselves, but we’ll have a try for it. That Jezebel must have been listening within the apartment; she’ll set all the priests in the monastery at our heels. Run for your life—quick! Don’t you bear?”’ Still Nigel hesitated, but a frantic jerk from Hawks- moor roused him to a keener sense of his peril. He shot a brief glance up at the balcony from which the woman whom he loved better than life had just vanished—yes, he knew now that his heart was lost to Muriel Braba- zon! Then, maddened with disappointment aud grief, burning with rage, he turned and dashed after his com- panion. Like frightened deer they sped through thickets and trees, leaping the marble paths, and heading in the di- rection of the subterranean passage, which was the safest place they could think of. Andas they ran they heard the gruff baying of the pursuing hound, ringing loudly above the more distant uproar within the mon- astery. £< Ebay are we going to get rid of the brute?’’ panted Nigel. SeWe must fight him. Leave him to me!’? replied Hawksmoor, stopping.short and drawing his knife. Al- most as he spoke, as he faced about, the hound came leaping out of the shrubbery within ten feet of him—a monstrous Thibetan mastiff, with flashing eyes, lolling red tongue, and two formidable rows of white teeth— evidently a savage creature and one dreaded by the priests themselves, for he wore a sort of a muzzle of gold wire. Hawksmoor was quick to note that fact, and he shrank the less from the task he had set himself. He withstood the assault unflinchingly, clutching at the mastiff’s throat with one hand, while with theother he ‘“My God, can we do ARMY AND NAVY tried to drive the knife home. But the brute’s weight and impetus upset him, and both rolled from the path into a copse of tall spear grass, Hawksmoor keeping his grip on the hound, and the latter snarling and snap- ping like a fiend. The two vanished behind the grass, and Nigel, his weapon ready for use, sprang forward with intent to aid his companion. But he was barely within the copse, when he heard a hoarse cry from Hawksmoor, followed after a second or two of silence by a loud and distant splash. It was too late to check himself. Three steps more and a round black hole, fringed with reeds and stonework, yawned before him. He tottered on the brink, vainly trying to keep his balance, and then plunged head foremost into space with an agonized cry on his lips. The fall could not have been less than thirty feet, but fortunately the water at the bottom was very deep. Nigel went far under, pluckily held his breath, and rose, half-suffocated, to the top. Filling bis lungs with air, he looked above and around him, A strong current had already carried him some distance from the circular hole through which he had dropped, and was sweeping him steadily into the black and chilling darkness. He realized at once that he had fallen into the subterranean river, and hisnext thought was of his companion. He anxiously called him by name—once, twice. ‘‘Here I am, Davenant!’’ rang Hawksmoor’s familiar and welcome voice. ‘‘Are you. all right?’’ ‘“Yes, sound as ever,’’ Nigel answered; and as he spoke, he dimly made out a head close to one side of him. ‘‘Where is the mastiff?’’ he added, ‘‘Drowned, I hope,’’ was tbe reply. ‘‘We parted company when we struck, and I’ve not seen or heard the brute since. Did you follow me on purpose??? ‘*No; but I’m glad I’m with you,’’ said Nigel. ‘‘I pitched into the hole almost before I could see it. I suppose this is the river we were looking for?’’ ‘*No doubt of that. It’s some consolation to know where we are. Can you stand a longswim, Davenant??’’ ‘Yes, I’m fit for it,’’? replied Nigel. ‘‘But why not make for one shore or the other? The stream can’t be wide.’’ ‘*T’m afraid we won’t better ourselves by landing,”’ Hawksmoor answered, ‘‘for after what has happened we can’t accomplish anything by remaining in the monastery. It won’t take the priests long to find out what became of us, and then they will be looking for us down here with boats. However, we'll make sure if we cau land, should there be any need of it.’? ‘So they struck out side by side across the current— they had drifted into utter darkness by this time—and a score of strokes brought them to the bank on the right. But it rose sheer out of the water higher than they could reach, presenting a smooth and slimy sur- face. ‘‘Tt’s no use—we could never climb out here,’’ said Hawksmoor; ‘‘I daresay toth banks are like this all the way along. I see only one thing for us to do, Dave- nant. We must follow the river down to where it passes from under the monastery into the lake. I believe there are gates and a landing there, and we shall likely pick up a boat.’’ ‘*Put that means leaving Muriel to her fate, and throwing up all our plans,’? demurred Nigel. ‘‘True,’’ assented Hawksmoor: ‘‘but what else can we do? I should be the last to abandon the girl as long as there was a chance ot saving her, but it would be sheer madness to think of rescuing her under these circumstances. When we have reached the lake, and are hidden safely on some island, we will consider the matter carefully. At present we must look after our own interests, and that will keep our hands full.”’ ‘‘T suppose you are right,’’ Nigel said, gloomily. ‘*Indeed, I know you are. But it’s hard lines to aban- don Muriel to those devils, and to leave the monastery after the trouble we had getting in. God help the poor girl! You’ll try to save her yet, Hawksmoor, won’t ou? : ‘*T will, Davenant. You onght to know that without asking. Come, let us get a little further out from the bank, where the current is swifter. They struck a few yards towards mid-stream, Hawks- moor leading the way, and then swam slowly down with the tide, their heads close together. They were lightly clad, both good swimmers, and they felt con- fident of holding out for at least an hour. Fora time they drifted on silently through the OOOKS. COM () Com