Adventure, December 1914 — page 69: what you’re looking at

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

The Lancing of the Whale ma’sel, Mr. Dicky, but I’m weary; what mus’ they be?” | “Forward!” ordered Dick relentlessly, and led the way. | He went through no time-dusty foolish- ness of getting off his horse to walk and lead them. He was there, so it seemed to him, to lend them all he had of skill, and will, and strength; and he could do that best if he were fresh at the farther end. He was right; for had he walked, to suffer with them as some leaders would have done, those men of Persia—where neither man nor word nor motive had ever yet been rude—would have judged him an actor. As it was, they were slowly finding out that his words and actions stirred their hearts because the truth lay under them; each thing he did, and word he spoke was an expression of what he thought nght, and therefore best, calling for neither excuse nor explanation. To them it would have seemed a sign of weakness to dismount and walk. To him it would have been a stupid waste of strength. As usual, his mere presence put spirit in them, and the tired men tramped and climbed behind him with a will. Andry, looking back past his machine-gun to the ant-like column toiling up-hill,; recalled a picture of Highlanders returning from a foray that had hung above his mother’s mantel in the cottage on the Isle of Arran. Haunted by the memory of a little French maid’s face that he had held between his great gnarled hands and kissed, his softer side was uppermost and maudlin sentiment met martial on common ground. There was a man beside him, who sweated under the leather bag, that held all Dick’s ward- robe. Andry grabbed the bag, and opened it. Out came Dick’s bagpipes; Andry’s cheeks bulged outwards and his temples took a purple hue as the drones began to hum their weird inharmony. Then, in a minute, the long straggling line picked up its feet and tried, in spite of rocks, to keep step to a tune to which forced marches have been made times without number. Hie upon Hielan’s An’ low upon Tay, Bonny George Campbell Rode out on a day. Tired leg-muscles grew limber, and weary wills awoke as if by magic. Magic it was— the mad, soul-stirring lilt and laugh of 67 Highland music that makes men forget themselves and tingle only for a hand in happenings. It lifted them; it drew them, till the gorges echoed to the thunder of their coming, and the birds sped scared away. Up, up Dick led and Andry lured with tunes; and whatever goad—of instinct, intuition, information, or mere whim—was driving him, Dick said nothing and an- swered no questions. Not even when they came on the advance-guard, waiting for them on a plateau, and Usbeg Ali Khan rode back to report the trail all clear, would Dick give any details of his plan. “Bahadur,” said Usbeg Ali, “none can catch us. These men came down-hill by forced marches, and fought hard; why race them up-hill again?”’ “T won’t!” said Dick. True to his word, Dick led the way now to the right instead of upward. Not for an instant did he slacken pace, but leaving Usbeg Ali to bring along the infantry, he hurried the advance-guard along hill-sides. “Why hurry?” asked Usbeg Ali, spurring after him, determined to get to the bottom of the reason for such haste. “The men are faint. There is a limit to what men cando! What is the danger now, bahadur?” ‘“‘An army-corps at least! ‘Two perhaps!’’ ““Where?”’ | “Over the Russo-Persian border!” an- swered Dick. “Bahadur, that may be. One army- corps might be enough to ring us ’round and bring us to bay, even in such a mountain range as this; but even its cavalry could not come up with us for a week or two! An army-corps moves like a serpent on its belly, slowly and by fits and starts. It is the pace that kills, bahadur!’’ Dick, spurring his horse up a narrow path between two rocks, turned his head and smiled. “Killing and war go hand-in-hand!” he answered quietly. “Bismillah!” swore the Afghan. ‘We have all too few men, and can spare none!”’ ‘“‘Then, we mustn’t spare the Russians!” - answered Dick hurrying on. “Now, Allah give me understanding!” Usbeg Ali swore into his black beard and drew rein. He waited until the head of the main body had caught up with him, and one of his loyal seven drew aside to ask him questions. “What is it, sahib? What is his plan? MICLOOOK C©