King of the Khyber Rifles | Page 9

Talbot Mundy
in two hands and was bending it backward while he pressed
the man's stomach with his knees.
"Get his loot!" he panted between efforts.
The knife fell to the floor, and the thief made a gallant effort to recover
it, but King was too strong for him. He seized the knife himself, slipped
it in his own bosom and resumed his hold before the native guessed
what he was after. Then he kept a tight grip while Hyde knelt to grope
for his missing property. The major found both the thief's bags, and
held them up.
"I expect that's all," said King, loosening his grip very gradually. The
native noticed--as Hyde did not--that King had begun to seem almost
absent-minded; the thief lay quite still, looking up, trying to divine his
next intention. Suddenly the brakes went on, but King's grip did not
tighten. The train began to scream itself to a standstill at a wayside
station, and King (the absent-minded--very nearly grinned.
"If I weren't in such an infernal hurry to reach Bombay--" Hyde
grumbled; and King nearly laughed aloud then, for the thief knew
English, and was listening with all his ears, "--may I be damned if I
wouldn't get off at this station and wait to see that scoundrel brought to
justice!"
The train jerked itself to a standstill, and a man with a lantern began to
chant the station's name. "Damn it!--I'm going to Bombay to act censor.
I can't wait--they want me there."
The instant the train's motion altogether ceased the heat shut in on them
as if the lid of Tophet had been slammed. The prickly beat burst out all

over Hyde's skin and King's too.
"Almighty God!" gasped Hyde, beginning to fan himself.
There was plenty of excuse for relaxing hold still further, and King
made full use of it. A second later be gave a very good pretense of pain
in his finger-ends as the thief burst free. The native made a dive at his
bosom for the knife, but he frustrated that. Then he made a prodigious
effort, just too late, to clutch the man again, and he did succeed in
tearing loose a piece of shirt; but the fleeing robber must have
wondered, as he bolted into the blacker shadows of the station building,
why such an iron-fingered, wide-awake sahib should have made such a
truly feeble showing at the end.
"Damn it!--couldn't you hold him? Were you afraid of him, or what?"
demanded Hyde, beginning to dress himself. Instead of answering,
King leaned out into the lamp-lit gloom, and in a minute he caught
sight of a sergeant of native infantry passing down the train. He made a
sign that brought the man to him on the run.
"Did you see that runaway?" he asked.
"Ha, sahib. I saw one running. Shall I follow?"
"No. This piece of his shirt will identify him. Take it. Hide it! When a
man with a torn shirt, into which that piece fits, makes for the telegraph
office after this train has gone on, see that he is allowed to send any
telegrams he wants to! Only, have copies of every one of them wired to
Captain King, care of the station-master, Delhi. Have you understood?"
"Ha, sahib."
"Grab him, and lock him up tight afterward--but not until he has sent
his telegrams!'
"Atcha, sahib."
"Make yourself scarce, then!"

Major Hyde was dressed, having performed that military evolution in
something less than record time.
"Who was that you were talking to?" he demanded. But King continued
to look out the door.
Hyde came and tapped on his shoulder impatiently, but King did not
seem to understand until the native sergeant had quite vanished into the
shadows.
"Let me pass, will you!" Hyde demanded. "I'll have that thief caught if
the train has to wait a week while they do it!"
He pushed past, but he was scarcely on the step when the station-
master blew his whistle, and his colored minion waved a lantern back
and forth. The engine shrieked forthwith of death and torment; carriage
doors slammed shut in staccato series; the heat relaxed as the engine
moved--loosened--let go--lifted at last, and a trainload of hot
passengers sighed thanks to an unresponsive sky as the train gained
speed and wind crept in through the thermantidotes.
Only through the broken thermantidote in King's compartment no wet
air came. Hyde knelt on King's berth and wrestled with it like a caged
animal, but with no result except that the sweat poured out all over him
and he was more uncomfortable than before. "What are you looking
at?" he demanded at last, sitting on King's berth. His head swam. He
had to wait a few seconds before he could step across to his own side.
"Only a
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