Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 146 No. 4 — page 80: what you’re looking at

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

but that his duty, the mission he was upon for his own people, the British government, had been jeopardized by his participation in some native affair of strife, something he had nothing to do with. He had ridden along that road hoping to overtake the two riders that now lay dead in the pit with the other victims of the thugs—of which he knew nothing. They were bearing to him a secret message from his government, and he had ridden to Manabad, there to take it from them lest in approaching the city of the Peshwa, full of seditious spies and cut- throats, the paper might be stolen. But at Manabad he had learned that the two had passed, had ridden on; and then, perhaps because of converging different roads, he had missed them. But most extraordinarily, just one of the curious, tangented ways of Fate, the writ- ten order lay against his chest, sewn be- tween the double sole of a sandal. Once or twice the hard leather caused him to turn slightly the girl’s body, and he thought it some case in which she carried jewels. CHAPTER X. THE SWEET PAIN IN THE HEART. HEY had gone perhaps an eighth of a mile when the road they followed joined another, joined in an arrow- head. The gray turned to the left, to the west, the homing instinct telling him that that way lay his stall in the city of the Peshwa. “This was the way of my journey, Bootea,” Barlow said. “I rode from yon- der,”’ and he nodded back toward the high- way into which the two roads wedged. “ It was here that I heard your call, the call of a woman in dread. Also, it might have been a business that interested me if it had been @ matter of waylaying travelers. Did you see two riders of large horses, such as Arabs or of the breed I ride, men who rode as do _ sowars?” : “No, sahib, I did not see them.” Be was not a lie, for it was Ajeet who _ Anc Denman ct, be 20's 1 a ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. “Were they servants of yours, aa ; these men who rode?” . Barlow gave off but a little sliver of truth. “ No,” he answered, “ but at Man- abad men spoke of them passing this way, journeying to Poona, and if they were strangers to this district, it might be that they had taken the wrong road at the fork. But if you did not see them they will be ahead.” “And meaning, sahkib, it would not be right if they saw you bearing on your horse one who is not a memsahib?” “As to that, Gulab, what might be thought by men of low rank is of no conse- quence.” “But if the sakib wishes to overtake them my burden upon the horse will be an evil, and he will be sorry that Bootea had not shame sufficient to refuse his help.” She felt the strong arm press her body closer, and heard him laugh. But still he did not answer, did not say why he was interested in the two horsemen. If it were vital—and she believed it was—for him to know that they lay dead at the Bagree camp, it was wrong for her not to tell him this, he who was a preserver. But to tell him would send him to his death. She knew, as all the people of that land knew, that the sakibs went where their rajah told them was their mis- sion, and laughed at death; and the face of this one spoke of strength, and the eyes of placid fearlessness; so she said nothing. The sandal soles that pinched her soft flesh she felt were a reproach—they had something to do with the thing that was between the sahib and the dead soldiers. pie were tears in her eyes, and she shiv- er Barlow, feeling this, said: “ You're cold, Gulab. The night wind that comes up from the black muck of the cotton fields and across the river is raw. Hants 5