07 Gimlet Bores In Read online

  We'll keep to cover as far as possible."

  The march was resumed in a sultry silence, Gimlet striking diagonally across the brush-covered flank of a low hill. A variety of flies and mosquitoes did nothing to lessen the discomfort of the travellers, but apart from insects there was no sign of life anywhere.

  The country, for all its luxuriant vegetation, gave Cub a queer feeling of loneliness, of sadness, as if some blight had descended upon it to cause it to be deserted by the people who had once dwelt there.

  Occasional ruins supported this depressing aspect. It occurred to Cub that war must have swept over the land at no very distant date. The people had gone, and had never returned.

  There was, however, an exception; or so it seemed, for Trapper presently brought the party to a halt while he examined a narrow track, not a yard wide, that wandered through the shrubs into the hills.

  "This may be a goat track," said Trapper, "but it was used by a man not long ago. I see his footprint. We go slow till I see where it comes from."

  Below the point where they stood the footpath disappeared into one of several growths of dwarf trees that dotted the hillside. What lay beyond this could not be seen, and it was with extreme caution that the party advanced until the view beyond came into sight. It was at once evident that Trapper's reading of the track had been correct, for there, about a hundred yards distant, stood a cottage, or at any rate, a human habitation, although it would hardly pass as a cottage by Western standards. It was a simple shack built of rough timber, roughly thatched with dry grass that was held down by numerous clods of earth from which weeds were sprouting. From a corner of this, apparently through a hole cut for the purpose, a thin wisp of pale blue smoke drifted into the still air.

  As they crouched motionless, watching, a youngish woman came out followed by two children, and the three of them at once set to work, doing something in a pathetic little patch of cultivated ground adjacent to their home. It seemed to Cub that they were digging potatoes with their bare hands. The extreme poverty of the family was made obvious by the rags of clothing they wore. However, there was nothing unpleasant about a scene that fitted well into the general picture. It was, pondered Cub, one that might have been found in any rural district of Britain a hundred years ago.

  Laying a finger on his lips Gimlet turned away, and Cub was about to follow when a hiss from Trapper sent them all flat. Peering through some stalks of long grass Cub saw the reason for the warning. A man was approaching the hut, striding down the hill from the opposite direction. He, too, was in rags, except for a fur bonnet that he wore on his head. Over his shoulder he carried a gun, and in the other hand he held a rabbit. He whistled, and as the woman turned he held up the dead animal. This evidently meant food, for the woman and her children at once dropped what they were doing and ran towards him, crying out joyfully. Having met, the four of them walked on towards the house, the man, by eloquent gestures, describing how he had stalked the rabbit and killed it.

  Their joy was short-lived. Into the picture now entered tragedy, so dire, so grim, that Cub knew, no matter how long he lived, he would never forget it.

  Round the shoulder of the hill, at a canter, appeared a party of about a dozen horsemen.

  That

  they were soldiers of some sort was apparent from the fact that they wore uniforms, and carried rifles, with bandoliers of cartridges across their chests.

  Little guessing what was coming Cub looked at them curiously, and with no small alarm, for collision with such a party could only have results disastrous to their mission. The uniforms, grey, and buttoned high at the necks, told him nothing. Nor, for that matter, did the faces of the men, beyond the fact that the features, broad and flat, with high cheek bones, were not European, as the term is generally understood. The eyes were narrow, and set with a suspicion of Oriental slant.

  He had little time to consider the matter however, for the opening stages of the drama were already being enacted. The woman was the first of the family to see the newcomers, and her behaviour left no one in doubt as to how she regarded them. She screamed. The children screamed at their mother's terror, and the three of them, crying loudly, fled towards the house.

  The man must have known what was coming to him, but he stood his ground.

  Perhaps there was nothing else he could do. He dropped the rabbit and stood with his gun at the ready. Reaching him, the horsemen reined in. A brief altercation in high pitched voices, between the leader of the horsemen and the lonely man, followed. It ended abruptly. Two horsemen dismounted. Seizing the man they tore the gun from his hands and flung it aside. They then dragged him to the wall of the house where, to Cub's unspeakable horror, before he realised what they were going to do, the wretched man was shot down by a ragged volley fired by the remainder of the troop who had by this time dismounted.

  Through the reverberation of the shots came the shrieks of those inside the house.

  Just below Cub, Copper was muttering fiercely. "Are we goin' ter stand fer this?" he choked.

  "Keep still," snapped Gimlet.

  "But these murderin' swine

  "Do as you're told."

  The tragedy was now in its closing stages. The woman and her children were brought out, crying hysterically. The leader of the horsemen pointed in the direction they were to go. One of the men entered the house.

  Within a minute he was out again. Another minute and the flimsy hut was ablaze. As if they were throwing wood on a bonfire two of the soldiers picked up the body of the dead man and flung it in the flames. Sparks flew.

  Smoke rolled upwards. One of the troopers picked up the dead man's gun.

  All remounted, and rode away in the direction taken by the survivors of the ill-fated family.

  Not until they were half a mile away did anyone speak. Then Copper broke the silence, and his voice was thick with savage disgust. "We're a bright lot, my oath we are," he rasped. "Sit 'ere and see a thing like that and not lift a finger. I'll never look a woman in the face again, s'welp me.

  Soldiers, eh? Pah! If this is wot it's come to, I'm finished."

  "Stop yammering," grated Gimlet.

  Cub looked at him. His face was as white as paper.

  "We should 'ave done somethin'," persisted Copper.

  "Any more insubordination from you, Corporal Colson, and I'll put you under arrest the moment we get home," rapped out Gimlet, in a voice as hard and brittle as glass. "I'm giving the orders here," he went on, "and I say that the domestic affairs of this unhappy country are no concern of ours."

  Copper drew a deep breath.

  Gimlet went on, very softly, now. "What would you have done?"

  "I'd have done somethin'."

  "What?"

  "We could 'ave laid out some of those swine, anyway."

  "To what purpose? It would have come to the same thing at the finish. We should now be on the bonfire with that wretched fellow, having failed, through our own folly, in the mission with which we have been entrusted.

  We were sent here to do a particular job and if it's humanly possible I'm going to do it. The private affairs of these people have no bearing on it. Do you think I enjoyed watching that ghastly business? What you have just seen has been going on here for years. No doubt it happens every day, and will go on happening. Now you know why the whole country is dead. That's all I have to say about it."

  "Wot did they shoot the poor bloke for, anyhow?" demanded Copper. ''Poaching one miserable rabbit?"

  "I'd say they shot him for carrying a firearm," answered Gimlet. "The man must have known the risks he ran, and accepted them. He was unlucky. At least we know what to expect if we're caught. All right, that's enough about it. Let's get on."

  Trapper, who had not said a word, spat out a stalk of grass that he had been chewing and rose to his feet.

  "Wot troops d'you reckon they were?" asked Copper. "I'd like ter know in case I meet any of 'em again."

  "I think they were Cossacks."

  "Huh. R
ussians, eh?"

  "Of a sort. The Cossacks are mostly nomadic tribesmen from Kirghiz."

  "They looked a sour-faced crew ter me." "They are sour-faced."

  "Why?"

  "Because they're always eating sour grapes." "I don't get it."

  "Listen," said Gimlet distinctly. "These men are Bolsheviks. How can they look anything but sour-faced when their minds are warped by envy —hatred of anyone better off than themselves? They go through life scheming how they can get by force, or by talking, what other people get by working.

  That's how it is here. They boss the country. Now you know why it is as you see it. No country can thrive under a parcel of tyrants."

  Copper sucked a tooth noisily. "Time somethin' was done about it, that's all I can say.

  Wot say you, Trapper, ole pal?"

  Trapper clicked his tongue. "Tch. Same as you, and then some."

  "Come on, that's enough talking," said Gimlet. CHAPTER IV

  A GRIM PROSPECT

  AFTER a long, weary tramp, always uphill, a thick forest of pines brought relief, not only on account of the shade they provided, but the absence of undergrowth made the going much easier. Underfoot now was a bed of pine needles, from which sprang cushions of tough, emerald green moss, and orange fungi. The warm sweet smell of the pines was refreshing, too.

  No one was prepared for what lay at the far side of this welcome interlude. It was a road, very rough, but still, considering the nature of the country, a road, although at home it would with greater accuracy be described as a farm track. At all events, it was wide enough for wheeled traffic. It ran across a fairly level strip of ground, a wide shoulder of the hill, which, on the far side, continued on under the usual tangle of shrubs. The party halted to regard it.

  "As most roads serve the most important buildings it wouldn't surprise me if this one led to the fort," observed Gimlet.

  "Why not 'ave a look?" suggested Copper. "Ain't that a signpost down there—or do my eyes deceive me?" he pointed to where, some distance along, a white pyramid rose conspicuously from the side of the dusty track.

  "No harm in looking," agreed Gimlet, and the party went on, keeping, of course, in the shade of the trees.

  As they drew nearer it became evident that Copper's eyes had indeed deceived him. True, the monument might have been a landmark, but it was certainly not the sort he had in mind. Even until the last moment there was doubt about the material of which it was constructed, but when at last this became plain the party stopped. No one said a word.

  Each stood staring in varying degrees of amazement and disgust at as grim a warning as was ever set up beside a public thoroughfare. For the pyramid was composed entirely of human skulls—how many, Cub did not attempt to count, nor could he hazard a guess as to their age.

  "Well, knock me purple," breathed Copper at last. "If that ain't a fair corker. I wonder who 'ad that bright idea for decorating the landscape?"

  Gimlet shook his head. "Either there was a battle fought here at some time or other, or else some wretched tribe was rounded up and slaughtered. It isn't unique. You'll find this sort of thing all over the Balkans. Fighting has been going on in these parts since history began.

  In the good old days—as people call them—it was the custom of the winning side to leave a mark to celebrate their victory; and as often as not the heads of unwanted captives provided a handy material."

  "Strewth! Wot a mob," muttered Copper.

  "I warned you that in this part of the world the people were rather behind the times," said Gimlet casually. "After all, it wasn't so long ago that we decorated our own cross-roads with the corpses of highwaymen and footpads, to say nothing of political prisoners.

  Along the banks of the Thames dangled in chains the bodies of pirates who were foolish enough to allow themselves to be captured."

  "True enough," put in Copper. "Execution Dock they called it, down by Wappin' High Stairs."

  "They must have been even more beastly than this unpleasant effort,"

  asserted Gimlet. "

  But don't let's stand here in the open or we may find our own heads topping up the pile.

  Hark! Under cover—quick!"

  There was a general scramble to regain the trees as from the near distance came the sound of galloping horses; and a minute later, over the brow of the hill there burst into sight a small body of horsemen, riding as if their lives depended on it.

  From the deep shadow of the wood Cub watched them tear past with a jangle of harness and a clatter of accoutrements, as wild yet picturesque a band of men as he had ever seen. All wore short grizzled beards, which gave them a certain similarity of appearance and suggested that they were of about the same age. The costumes they wore were alike in general design although not in colour, and in this respect the party created an impression of being theatrical to an almost absurd degree rather than real. In a vague sort of way the men reminded Cub of something, something, he thought, he had once seen on the screen in Technicolor, but he could not recall where or when. For clothes they wore what appeared to be a number of vests and jackets, brightly coloured but dirty.

  Below, held up by belts or sashes, were loose trousers half covered by a petticoat. For headgear one or two wore turbans; others, tall fur hats, mostly black. All bristled with weapons, from long-barrelled rifles, old-fashioned pistols, cutlasses and dirks, to a variety of daggers that were thrust in what seemed to be a most dangerous manner through their broad belts.

  As the clatter and rattle died away, and the party disappeared round the next bend, Copper stared at Cub with saucering eyes. "Strike old Riley!"

  he exclaimed. "Wot was all that—a circus on the move? I never saw a mob in a bigger 'urry ter get somewhere."

  "That was no circus," asserted Gimlet. "Nor was it part of any procession. Make no mistake, those fellows are out on business. Whatever it is, our business is to keep out of it. This is a country of surprises, and it certainly isn't as dead as it looks. We'd better keep in cover.

  That doesn't mean we can't move. We can follow the road without walking on it. Come on—keep in the wood."

  The party moved on, walking parallel with the track but keeping well inside the forest, eyes and ears now alert for danger. It was slowly dawning on Cub that in the apparent harmlessness of this pleasant countryside lay its greatest danger. It was clear enough now why there was no cultivation. Wise men did not advertise their whereabouts. The behaviour of the boy with the goats, the men

  on the road, and the sinister heap of skulls—which in any civilised community would have been removed—told a story not to be ignored. The purpose of the fortress, too, was explained.

  It was well after midday when Gimlet • again called a halt, this time of longer duration, for food and a rest. They were still in the forest, which seemed to run on interminably, covering the whole of the lower flank of a mountain. Everything was very still. Not a breath of air moved. Not an animal was to be seen. Not a bird twittered. The effect was a strange, sinister atmosphere, which without further warning caused everyone to speak in hushed whispers. Not that much was said as each member of the party got busy with his rations. There was no water, but some rather sour oranges that Cub had picked on the way served as thirst quenchers.

  Half-way through the meal there occurred yet another incident, a minor one, but one which, nevertheless, conveyed the same furtive impression of hidden menace as the others. The party was, of course, still in the forest, but within sight of the road. On it now appeared a man, dressed in a fashion similar to that of the horsemen except that he was without weapons. His whole attitude spoke of fear, fear of something behind him.

  He moved with a limp, and with his left arm hanging uselessly by his side. Groaning, he hurried along, sometimes at a shuffle and sometimes breaking into a short run, keeping well to the side of the road as if prepared to dive into cover at an instant's notice.

  He looked constantly behind him as one who expects pursuit. He passed out of sight at the next
bend and was seen no more.

  "That poor blighter was in a bad way," declared Copper. "E looked like e'd just fallen off a ladder. This is a rum show and no mistake. Wot's goin' on around 'ere? The place sort of gives you the creeps, don't it?

  Wot say you, Trapper, ole cock?"

  "You've sure said it," agreed Trapper warmly.

  "It certainly isn't the place for anyone suffering from a nervous breakdown," observed Cub.

  "If you go on talking like that we shall all have one," averred Gimlet.

  "Pack up now. We'

  ll move on."

  "Off we go again," breathed Copper.

  "Not yet," corrected Gimlet. "I'm beginning to think my original plan was best, and we ought to lie low until it's dark. We've come a fair way and there's no sense in trying to overdo it. Anyway, it's time we had a look around to see where we are going. Trapper, you go ahead and see how far this forest stretches. Have a look to see if you can spot a river, or a valley which might hold one. We're pretty high up now so you should get a wide view. There's no great hurry."

  "Okay, sir," agreed Trapper, rising. He moved off noiselessly and was soon lost to sight in the shadows.

  He was away only for about twenty minutes, and when he returned, even before he spoke Cub knew that he had important information to impart.

  Gimlet realised it, too, for he asked sharply: "What is it?"

  "Hélas!" Trapper raised a beckoning finger. "Come. I show you something."

  Shouldering their loads the others fell in behind and followed him to the southern extremity of the forest, where further progress was barred by an obstacle that made Cub thank his lucky stars that they had not tried to make their way through the wood on a dark night. Without the slightest warning, the timber, and the ground, ended abruptly at the lip of a ravine so deep, and so dramatic in appearance, that at first sight of it he caught his breath. For a full five hundred feet the ground fell away, sometimes at a sharp angle, sometimes sheer, into a gloomy gorge, from the bottom of which, through a tangle of sub-tropical jungle, came faintly the splash and swirl of turbulent water. The cliff on the far side, distant about a hundred yards from the point where they stood, was of a similar nature.