Pistol in hand, in case he should meet a sentry, he raced on. Approaching the drawbridge, which he now saw clearly for the first time, he steadied his pace, prepared for opposition.
None came. A grey-coated man lay in the middle of it. One of Macgreggo's men sat near him, tying some dirty rags round a bloodstained leg. He grinned at Cub, who did not stop, but carried on towards his objective.
There was not as much noise inside the fort as he had expected. There was an occasional shot, or a shout. Soon after this there was a curious rising murmur, as of many voices.
Cub did not even try to guess what was going on. His mind was running on a single track, and that was to get to Copper. It should not be difficult now, he thought, for judging from the absence of any sounds of actual conflict all resistance had been overcome. As he neared the great iron-studded door the thought did occur to him that Karzoff might have evacuated the place deliberately, have thrown it wide open to the bandits in order to curry favour with their leader. It was just the sort of thing he would do.
He was within a dozen paces of the door when it suddenly swung to. He heard bolts being shot home. He flung himself against it, shouting in his fury at this unexpected and maddening frustration. He beat on the door with his fists, shouting: "Open up—open up!"
Whether he was heard or not he did not know. The door remained shut. He groaned aloud in his vexation. To be so near! And yet, for all the good he could do, he might as well have been a mile away.
So angry and so sick with disappointment was he that he paid no attention to anything but the door, at which he could only stare in raging impotence. It had been shut, he imagined, on Copper's orders. From his training, with an eye always on his rear, Copper would think of that. Cub leaned against it wearily. All he could do now was wait for it to open.
How long that would be, he pondered, would depend on how long it took Copper to satisfy himself that he, Cub, was not inside. It might be some time.
So engrossed was he in these conflicting thoughts that he had paid little attention to the causeway and the road beyond it. It was a clatter of hoofs on hard ground that called his attention to it. What he saw brought home to him in a single glance the fatal position into which he had so carelessly put himself. Galloping along the road, strung out as if they were retiring in disorder, came a troop of Cossacks, obviously making for the fort.
Staring, Cub thought he could make out two of Karzoff's bodyguard with them. The governor himself he could not see. Not that it mattered. By now he must have realised that the plan had miscarried.
The point was, the Cossacks were now obviously retiring on the fort. They would see him. No doubt they had already seen him. Should he fall into their angry hands he had no doubt as to what his fate would be. Apart from the Cossacks, Karzoff's bodyguard would naturally think that he had played them false.
Cub looked about him in something like a panic, but could see no way out of the trap.
The closed door barred any retreat. The sides of the causeway was sheer, so there could be no going that way either. In fact, there was only one way he could go, and that was forward—towards the horsemen.
CHAPTER XII
ONE THING AFTER ANOTHER
IN his desperation Cub remembered the drawbridge. Did it still work? It struck him that if he could reach it first, and pull it up, his problem would be solved. The Cossacks would be unable to get to him, and when Copper emerged from the fort he and his force would drive them away. But the immediate question was, could he get to the drawbridge first? He thought he had a chance. If he failed—well, it would come to the same thing as if he stayed where he was. He thought he might as well try. He snatched a last look at the door. It was still shut, so, turning he ran back across the causeway even faster than he had come.
Before he had gone far he heard shouts behind him, but he was now in too much of a hurry to pay much attention. He snatched a glance over his shoulder, but his interest was centred on the door, and as it was still closed he did not stop. He caught a vague glimpse of some unkempt-looking figures on the top of the wall, gesticulating, but he took these signals to be directed against the approaching Cossacks. Anyway, having started he dare not risk going back. He was relieved to note that the troops, having reached the top of the slope, were now walking their horses. This was
understandable, as to gallop them down a track so steep would be asking for a fall.
He reached the drawbridge when the men were about half-way down, which meant that he had two or three minutes in hand. Actually, he did not need them. One minute was sufficient to tell him as much about the bridge as he needed to know. He found the big iron wheel that operated the device, but the chains were rusty from disuse, and it was beyond his strength to move the thing an inch. One of the chains was broken, anyway. So obvious was it that his effort had been in vain that he turned away in disgust.
The only thing left for it, it seemed, was to put up the best fight he could. He was pretty sure that the Cossacks would be in no mood to take prisoners even if he were inclined to give himself up, which he was not.
The guardhouse was, he noted, well adapted for defence, as was only to be expected since it had been designed for that purpose. He took up his position in one of the unglazed slits that served as windows, choosing one that commanded the road. And there he,. waited, wondering if the Cossacks knew he was there. Not that it made much difference whether they did or not, for they would certainly discover him when they got to the bridge.
A movement made him turn with a start of alarm, but he relaxed as into the room came hopping the wounded bandit he had last seen tying up his leg. He had forgotten all about him. The man, he supposed, had also seen the Cossacks coming, and knowing what his fate would be if he fell into their hands, had evidently resolved to postpone this for as long as possible. One thing at least was clear. The fellow was not in the least afraid of losing his life, for he grinned cheerfully at Cub as he proceeded to load the one firearm he possessed. This was an antiquated, muzzle-loading, flint-lock gun, or rifle—Cub was not sure which. It fascinated him to see the man ram home a handful of black powder.
For a wad he used a piece of his shirt. This was followed by a load of what looked like home-made slugs. At any rate, they were of several sizes, and some were by no means round. Cub shuddered at the thought of meeting such a fearful charge, and understood why the troops seldom sustained their attacks on the bandits.
Cub now returned his attention to the road; and it was high time, for the Cossacks were now within fifty yards of the place; and from the way they were coming on imagined the bridge either to be abandoned, or held by their own men. He dare not let them get any nearer, and disliking the idea of shooting a man in cold blood sent a warning shot whistling over their heads. This, he thought, might cause them to retire. At all events they would know the bridge was held, and this should give him a respite.
This was the case. The troops wheeled about, galloped a short distance, and with the exception of two, dismounted. These took over the reins of the others, and retired with the horses to a safe distance. Those who had dismounted now took up positions from which they hoped, apparently, to silence the defenders of the bridge.
They went about this without enthusiasm; certainly without any sort of ordered effort.
They opened a desultory fire, the bullets smacking against the stone building in a manner which suggested that they knew neither the strength of the opposition nor how it was disposed.
Thus things remained for about five minutes. Cub, having no bullets to waste, held his fire, content to gain as much time as possible. It seemed that the bandit felt the same way about it, for, with his musket resting in the loophole he rolled some tobacco leaves into a villainous-looking
cigar, which, when lighted, filled the little room with a reek that set Cub coughing—much to the bandit's amusement.
But this could not go on. Taking a peep Cub saw that the Cossacks, encouraged possibly by the silence, were getting i
nto a position for a charge. He braced himself for the assault, which in his heart he feared would end the matter. He was not prepared for what happened when it came.
No sooner had the troops broken from cover than there was a deafening explosion, and visibility was reduced to zero by a mighty cloud of smoke.
Cub realised that the bandit had at last pulled his trigger. He waited for the troops to appear through the smoke. They did not come. Instead, there came the grand finale of the day's spectacular events.
From Cub's rear came a surging roar that
sounded like big waves breaking on a shingle beach. Running to one of the windows overlooking the causeway he saw that the door of the fort had at last been opened, to let loose such a mob that the size and character of it took his breath away. He had no idea that there were so many people inside the fort. There were even women in the crowd.
Gaunt, bearded, filthy, in rags beyond description, brandishing weapons that varied from axes to logs of wood, yelling like dervishes, the tide swept towards the drawbridge in a flood of hysterical humanity.
It did not take Cub long to realise what had happened. Copper or Sienco had released the prisoners, who, mad with excitement at their unexpected freedom, were rushing to get clear of the fort while the opportunity offered. Copper did not appear to be amongst them—at least, Cub could not see him; so he ran back to see what was happening on the road.
The smoke had cleared. The Cossacks were no longer there, not counting two wounded men who were dragging themselves to the side of the track.
Clearly, the Cossacks had also realised what had happened, and knowing what would happen to them if they were caught, were seeking safety in flight.
Cub ran into the open, waving on the crowd to let the human avalanche know that he was on their side. Should they take him for one of the enemy, he thought, he was likely to be torn limb from limb. The bandit also hopped to the door, but they both had to back inside as the demented crowd stampeded past, for there seemed to be a good chance of their being knocked into the gorge by the sheer weight of numbers. Cub mopped his brow with a hand that shook, for what with the strain and the general pandemonium he felt that the thing was getting beyond him.
After the main throng had gone past—where it was heading for he neither knew nor cared—he looked eagerly for Copper. Some of Sienco's men were there, bringing up the rear, but of Sienco and Copper there was no sign.
Then he guessed why, from the interior of the fort a cloud of smoke rose sluggishly into the humid atmosphere. So that was it, he thought. Copper or Sienco, or both of them, had decided to make a job of the place while they were in it. Anyway, that part of the fort that would burn, was on fire. He observed this without emotion. He felt he had reached a stage where nothing could surprise him.
Then he saw Copper and Sienco coming. They came walking across the causeway with no more concern than if they were out for an afternoon stroll. Cub went to meet them, and as he drew near he saw there was nothing restful about their appearance. Copper was in a fearful state.
His jacket was in rags, his hands were black, and his face streaked with dust and sweat. His beret hung over one ear.
He stopped dead when he saw Cub and pointed an accusing finger at him.
"So there you are!" he shouted indignantly. "Wot 'ave you bin up to I'd like ter know? I've bin 'untin' all over the bloomin' place for you; 'alf pulled the perishin' fort down I did, s'welp me."
"I got out early this morning," Cub told him simply.
"An 'ow did yer work that blinkin' miracle?" "The governor let me out."
"Ere, come orf it. This ain't no time fer kiddin'."
"It's a fact," asserted Cub. "How else do you think I got here? I'll tell you all about it later. Where's Gimlet—that's what I want to know? What's he doing?"
"Still tryin' ter winkle the Pasha outer those tin cars I reckon. I started with 'im this mornin', but seem' as 'ow most of the garrison was outside the fort 'e sent me along with orders ter get you out. Nice game I 'ad, too, huntin' through all those lousy dungeons."
Cub thanked him for his effort. "The Pasha's all right, too," he said.
Copper stared. "Wot do you mean—the Pasha's all right? 'Ow can 'e be all right? Wot are you talkin' about?"
"He's outside," answered Cub. "He came with me. He should be up on the hill, waiting.
That's where I left him."
"Well, strike me pink!" muttered Copper. "If that ain't a fair coughdrop.
An' ere's me and Gimlet tearin' the country apart. . . ." He shook his head. "Everybody must be goin'
loony—me included."
"Were those the prisoners you let out?" asked Cub.
"I didn't let 'em out, I was too busy lookin' fer you. But Macgreggo wanted 'em out, so 'e sent some of 'is boys with Sienco ter see about it.
Nice little lot, weren't they?"
Cub nodded. "Are you telling me? Who set the place on fire?"
"Not me. Reckon it was about time though, all the same. The place stinks."
"There may be a row about that," said Cub seriously. "We weren't sent to start a war."
"A fat lot I care," sneered Copper. "Who started this, any old how? 'Ave you seen the big boss, Karzoff, anywhere? I couldn't find 'im inside."
"He's up on the road somewhere. I saw him go out and I haven't seen him come back."
"Good enough. Well, instead of natterin' 'ere we'd better push along and see if we can give Gimlet a 'and."
"We'll collect the Pasha on the way," said Cub. "As a matter of fact I was going along to tell Gimlet that I'd got him when I saw you charging the fort. Tell Sienco to get his gang together and we'll move off."
"We shall need 'im, too, if I know anythin'," said Copper earnestly. "The whole place is fairly crawlin' with troops. This picnic ain't finished yet, not by a long chalk."
"Then let's get on with it," suggested Cub. With Sienco bringing up the rear with his wounded they set off up the slope.
CHAPTER XIII
EXPLANATIONS
CUB found the Pasha waiting obediently where he had left him, not a little worried by the commotion, and his long absence. Cub introduced Copper, and afterwards, Sienco and his vagabonds, who were all in high spirits as a result of the day's doings. Time and time again the bandits feasted their eyes, with jubilant exclamations, on the smoking fort.
Cub explained briefly to the Pasha what had happened, and said they must now make their way along to Gimlet without the loss of any more time.
Copper told Cub that for the attack on the cars Macgreggo had mustered every available man, to the number of nearly fifty. Exactly how they were to be deployed he did not know, for he had been detailed to attack the fort before the general plan had been put into operation. All Copper knew was that Gimlet had asked Macgreggo if he had any dynamite or other explosive.
"Apparently he had," put in Cub. "I heard a rattling good bang."
"I reckon Gimlet 'ad some scheme for blockin' the road to 'old up the cars and stop 'em gettin' the Pasha away," opined Copper.
"Well, whatever he did, I've an uncomfortable feeling that it hasn't gone off too well," returned Cub. "The shooting is still going on. If Gimlet had captured the cars it would have been all over by now."
"True enough, chum," commented Copper. "It's one thing ter stop armoured cars, but a different cup o' tea altergether ter get the crews out of
'em. Don't I know it. Gimlet'll keep 'ammerin' at 'em. He'd made up 'is mind ter get the Pasha."
"I think Karzoff must be along there somewhere, too," said Cub. "At least, I saw him go out and I haven't seen him come back." He looked around. "What's become of that mob of prisoners?"
"Tucked themselves into the woods, I reckon, in case the Cossacks won the battle and started ter round 'em up again. They've managed ter get out of sight, any old how, and I don't blame 'em."
By this time the whole party, which included Sienco and his men, was making its way along the slope of the hill half way between the roa
d and the ridge, a high level from which it was possible to see a fair distance ahead. There were a number of troops still on the road, walking without any sort of order, but most of them returning to the fort, presumably to deal with the fire. From somewhere in front, beyond the next bend, there still came sporadic outbreaks of musketry, from which it could be assumed that the battle of the cars had not yet been decided.
This became still more evident, and at the same time suggested that things were not going well for the government troops, when round the bend appeared a considerable number of them, clearly retiring in disorder.
Hard upon these came one of the armoured cars, travelling backwards.
There was also a good deal of shouting.
Copper slapped his thigh. "Get an eye full o' that," he invited. "D'you know what, Cub?
Shall I tell yer wot's 'appened? Gimlet's blocked the road ter stop the cars gettin' away.
Wouldn't surprise me if 'e's blown the blinkin' road clean off the side of the mountain.
That'd be wot 'e wanted the dynamite for. The cars can't go forward. The road ain't wide enough for 'em ter turn, so they're tryin' ter get back ter the fort stern first. Now ain't that jest lovely?"
This appraisal of the situation was correct, as was presently confirmed.
Cub did not stop to consider the matter. He pushed on as fast as conditions allowed, for he realised more than ever the urgency of letting Gimlet know that as the Pasha was with him there was no need to sustain an attack that might well result in serious casualties. He noticed that the car now in sight was not returning the fire directed against it, which gave reason to think that it had run out of ammunition.
That Gimlet and the bandits were persisting in their attack became plain when a number of tree trunks suddenly rolled across the road behind the car. They came, Cub observed, from the site of the timber-cutting operations, which he now recognised; and their purpose was clear. They were intended to block the road behind the car to prevent it from making further progress towards the fort. This manceuvre appeared to achieve its object, for while some of the logs rolled right across the road to vanish over the lip of the steep slope on the opposite side, others stopped.
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