The Broken Road | Page 3

herself with
contentment, and then the truth would break upon her dissociated from
the dream. Often she rose from her bed and, kneeling beside the boy's
cot, prayed with a passionate heart that the curse of the Road--that road
predicted by a Linforth years ago--might overpass this generation.
Meanwhile rumours came--rumours of disaster. Finally a messenger
broke through and brought sure tidings. Luffe had marched quickly,
had come within thirty miles of Kohara before he was stopped. In a
strong fort at a bend of the river the young Khan with his wife and a
few adherents had taken refuge. Luffe joined the Khan, sought to push
through to Kohara and rescue Linforth, but was driven back. He and his
troops and the Khan were now closely besieged by Wafadar Nazim.
The work of mobilisation was pressed on; a great force was gathered at
Nowshera; Brigadier Appleton was appointed to command it.
"Luffe will hold out," said official India, trying to be cheerful.
Perhaps the only man who distrusted Luffe's ability to hold out was

Brigadier Appleton, who had personal reasons for his views. Brigadier
Appleton was no fool, and yet Luffe had not suffered him gladly. All
the more, therefore, did he hurry on the preparations. The force
marched out on the new road to Chiltistan. But meanwhile the weeks
were passing, and up beyond the snow-encumbered hills the
beleaguered troops stood cheerfully at bay behind the thick fort-walls.
CHAPTER II
INSIDE THE FORT
The six English officers made it a practice, so far as they could, to dine
together; and during the third week of the siege the conversation
happened one evening to take a particular turn. Ever afterwards, during
this one hour of the twenty-four, it swerved regularly into the same
channel. The restaurants of London were energetically discussed, and
their merits urged by each particular partisan with an enthusiasm which
would have delighted a shareholder. Where you got the best dinner,
where the prettiest women were to be seen, whether a band was a
drawback or an advantage--not a point was omitted, although every
point had been debated yesterday or the day before. To-night the grave
question of the proper number for a supper party was opened by Major
Dewes of the 5th Gurkha Regiment.
"Two," said the Political Officer promptly, and he chuckled under his
grey moustache. "I remember the last time I was in London I took out
to supper--none of the coryphées you boys are so proud of being seen
about with, but"--and, pausing impressively, he named a reigning lady
of the light-opera stage.
"You did!" exclaimed a subaltern.
"I did," he replied complacently.
"What did you talk about?" asked Major Dewes, and the Political
Officer suddenly grew serious.
"I was very interested," he said quietly. "I got knowledge which it was

good for me to have. I saw something which it was well for me to see. I
wished--I wish now--that some of the rulers and the politicians could
have seen what I saw that night."
A brief silence followed upon his words, and during that silence certain
sounds became audible--the beating of tom-toms and the cries of men.
The dinner-table was set in the verandah of an inner courtyard open to
the sky, and the sounds descended into that well quite distinctly, but
faintly, as if they were made at a distance in the dark, open country.
The six men seated about the table paid no heed to those sounds; they
had had them in their ears too long. And five of the six were occupied
in wondering what in the world Sir Charles Luffe, K.C.S.I., could have
learnt of value to him at a solitary supper party with a lady of comic
opera. For it was evident that he had spoken in deadly earnest.
Captain Lynes of the Sikhs broke the silence:
"What's this?" he asked, as an orderly offered to him a dish.
"Let us not inquire too closely," said the Political Officer. "This is the
fourth week of the siege."
The rice-fields of the broad and fertile valley were trampled down and
built upon with sangars. The siege had cut its scars upon the fort's
rough walls of mud and projecting beams. But nowhere were its marks
more visible than upon the faces of the Englishmen in the verandah of
that courtyard.
Dissimilar as they were in age and feature, sleepless nights and the
unrelieved tension had given to their drawn faces almost a family
likeness. They were men tired out, but as yet unaware of their
exhaustion, so bright a flame burnt within each one of them.
Somewhere amongst the snow-passes on the north-east a relieving
force would surely be encamped that night, a day's march nearer than it
was yesterday. Somewhere amongst the snow-passes in the south a