Way of an Eagle
By E.M. DELL
The Way of an Eagle
By E.M. DELL
1911
CONTENTS
PART I
CHAPTER
I.--THE TRUST
II.--A SOLDIER'S DAUGHTER
III.--THE VICTIM OF TREACHERY
IV.--DESOLATION
V.--THE DEVIL IN THE WILDERNESS
VI.--WHEN STRONG MEN FAIL
VII.--THE COMING OF AN ARMY
PART II
VIII.--COMRADES
IX.--THE SCHOOL OF SORROW
X.--THE EAGLE SWOOPS
XI.--THE FIRST FLIGHT
XII.--THE MESSAGE
XIII.--THE VOICE OF A FRIEND
XIV.--THE POISON OF ADDERS
XV.--THE SUMMONS
XVI.--THE ORDEAL
PART III
XVII.--An Old Friend
XVIII.--The Explanation
XIX.--A Hero Worshipper
XX.--News from the East
XXI.--A Harbour of Refuge
XXII.--An Old Story
XXIII.--The Sleep Called Death
XXIV.--The Creed of a Fighter
XXV.--A Scented Letter
XXVI.--The Eternal Flame
XXVII.--The Eagle Caged
XXVIII.--The Lion's Skin
XXIX.--Old Friends Meet
XXX.--An Offer of Friendship
XXXI.--The Eagle Hovers
PART IV
XXXII.--The Face in the Storm
XXXIII.--The Lifting of the Mask
XXXIV.--At the Gate of Death
XXXV.--The Armistice
XXXVI.--The Eagle Strikes
XXXVII. THE PENALTY FOR SENTIMENT
XXXVIII. THE WATCHER OF THE CLIFF
XXXIX. BY SINGLE COMBAT
XL. THE WOMAN'S CHOICE
XLI. THE EAGLE'S PREY
XLII. THE HARDEST FIGHT OF ALL
XLIII. REQUIESCAT
XLIV. LOVE'S PRISONER
PART V
XLV. THE VISION
XLVI. THE HEART OF A MAN
XLVII. IN THE NAME OF FRIENDSHIP
XLVIII. THE HEALING OF THE BREACH
XLIX. THE LOWERING OF THE FLAG
L. EREBUS
LI. THE BIRD OF PARADISE
LII. A WOMAN'S OFFERING
LIII. THE LAST SKIRMISH
LIV. SURRENDER
LV. OMNIA VINCIT AMOR
LVI. THE EAGLE SOARS
"There be three things which are too wonderful
for me, yea, four which I know not:
The way of an eagle in the air;
the way of a serpent upon a rock;
the way of a ship in the midst of the sea;
and the way of a man with a maid."
Proverbs xxx, 18-19.
THE WAY OF AN EAGLE
PART I
CHAPTER I
THE TRUST
The long clatter of an irregular volley of musketry rattled warningly
from the naked mountain ridges; over a great grey shoulder of rock
the sun sank in a splendid opal glow; from very near at hand came the
clatter of tin cups and the sound of a subdued British laugh. And in
the room of the Brigadier-General a man lifted his head from his hands
and stared upwards with unseeing, fixed eyes.
There was an impotent, crushed look about him as of one nearing the
end of his strength. The lips under the heavy grey moustache moved a
little as though they formed soundless words. He drew his breath once
or twice sharply through his teeth. Finally, with a curious groping
movement he reached out and struck a small hand-gong on the table in
front of him.
The door slid open instantly and an Indian soldier stood in the
opening. The Brigadier stared full at him for several seconds as if he
saw nothing, his lips still moving secretly, silently. Then suddenly,
with a stiff gesture, he spoke.
"Ask the major sahib and the two captain sahibs to come to me here."
The Indian saluted and vanished like a swift-moving shadow.
The Brigadier sank back into his chair, his head drooped forward, his
hands clenched. There was tragedy, hopeless and absolute, in every
line of him.
There came the careless clatter of spurred heels and loosely-slung
swords in the passage outside of the half-closed door, the sound of a
stumble, a short ejaculation, and again a smothered laugh.
"Confound you Grange! Why can't you keep your feet to yourself, you
ungainly Triton, and give us poor minnows a chance?"
The Brigadier sat upright with a jerk. It was growing rapidly dark.
"Come in, all of you," he said. "I have something to say. As well to
shut the door, Ratcliffe, though it is not a council of war."
"There being nothing left to discuss, sir," returned the voice that
had laughed. "It is just a simple case of sitting tight now till
Bassett comes round the corner."
The Brigadier glanced up at the speaker and caught the last glow of
the fading sunset reflected on his face. It was a clean-shaven face
that should have possessed a fair skin, but by reason of unfavourable
circumstances it was burnt to a deep yellow-brown. The features were
pinched and wrinkled--they might have belonged to a very old man; but
the eyes that smiled down into the Brigadier's were shrewd, bright,
monkey-like. They expressed a cheeriness almost grotesque. The two men
whom he had followed into the room stood silent among the shadows. The
gloom was such as could be felt.
Suddenly, in short, painful tones the Brigadier began to speak.
"Sit down," he said. "I have sent for you to ask one among you to
undertake for me a certain service which must be accomplished, but
which I--" he paused and again audibly caught his breath between his
teeth--"which I--am unable to execute for myself."
An instant's silence followed the halting speech. Then the young
officer who stood against the door stepped briskly forward.
"What's the job, sir? I'll wager my evening skilly I carry it
through."
One of the men in the shadows moved, and spoke in a repressive tone.
"Shut up, Nick! This is no mess-room joke."
Nick made a sharp, half-contemptuous gesture. "A joke only ceases
to be a joke when there is no one left to laugh, sir," he said. "We
haven't come to that at present."
He stood in front of the Brigadier for a moment--an insignificant
figure but for the perpetual suggestion of simmering activity that
pervaded him; then stepped behind the commanding officer's chair, and
there took up his stand without further words.
The Brigadier paid no attention to him. His mind was fixed upon one
subject only. Moreover, no one ever took Nick Ratcliffe seriously. It
seemed a moral impossibility.
"It is quite plain to me," he said heavily at length, "that the time
has come to face the situation. I do not speak for the discouragement
of you brave fellows. I know that I can rely upon each one of you to
do your duty to the utmost. But we are bound to look at things as they
are, and so prepare for the inevitable. I for one am firmly convinced
that General Bassett cannot possibly reach us in time."
He paused, but no one spoke. The man behind him was leaning forward,
listening intently.
He went on with an effort. "We are a mere handful. We have dwindled
to four white men among a host of dark. Relief is not even within a
remote distance of us, and we are already bordering upon starvation.
We may hold out for three days more. And then"--his breath came
suddenly short, but he forced himself to continue--"I have to think of
my child. She will be in your hands. I know you will all defend her to
the last ounce of your strength; but which of you"--a terrible gasping
checked his utterance for many labouring seconds; he put his hand over
his eyes--"which of you," he whispered at last, his words barely
audible, "will have the strength to--shoot her before your own last
moment comes?"
The question quivered through the quiet room as if wrung from the
twitching lips by sheer torture. It went out in silence--a dreadful,
lasting silence in which the souls of men, stripped naked of human
convention, stood confronting the first primaeval instinct of human
chivalry.
It continued through many terrible seconds--that silence, and through
it no one moved, no one seemed to breathe. It was as if a spell
had been cast upon the handful of Englishmen gathered there in the
deepening darkness.
The Brigadier sat bowed and motionless at the table, his head sunk in
his hands.
Suddenly there was a quiet movement behind him, and the spell was
broken. Ratcliffe stepped deliberately forward and spoke.
"General," he said quietly, "if you will put your daughter in my care,
I swear to you, so help me God, that no harm of any sort shall touch
her."
There was no hint of emotion in his voice, albeit the words were
strong; but it had a curious effect upon those who heard it. The
Brigadier raised his head sharply, and peered at him; and the other
two officers started as men suddenly stumbling at an unexpected
obstacle in a familiar road.
One of them, Major Marshall, spoke, briefly and irritably, with a
touch of contempt. His nerves were on edge in that atmosphere of
despair.
"You, Nick!" he said. "You are about the least reliable man in
the garrison. You can't be trusted to take even reasonable care of
yourself. Heaven only knows how it is you weren't killed long ago. It
was thanks to no discretion on your part. You don't know the meaning
of the word."
Nick did not answer, did not so much as seem to hear. He was standing
before the Brigadier. His eyes gleamed in his alert face--two weird
pin-points of light.
"She will be safe with me," he said, in a tone that held not the
smallest shade of uncertainty.
But the Brigadier did not speak. He still searched young Ratcliffe's
face as a man who views through field-glasses a region distant and
unexplored.
After a moment the officer who had remained silent throughout came
forward a step and spoke. He was a magnificent man with the physique
of a Hercules. He had remained on his feet, impassive but observant,
from the moment of his entrance. His voice had that soft quality
peculiar to some big men.
"I am ready to sell my life for Miss Roscoe's safety, sir," he said.
Nick Ratcliffe jerked his shoulders expressively, but said nothing. He
was waiting for the General to speak. As the latter rose slowly, with
evident effort, from his chair, he thrust out a hand, as if almost
instinctively offering help to one in sore need.
General Roscoe grasped it and spoke at last. He had regained his
self-command. "Let me understand you, Ratcliffe," he said. "You
suggest that I should place my daughter in your charge. But I must
know first how far you are prepared to go to ensure her safety."
He was answered instantly, with an unflinching promptitude he had
scarcely expected.
"I am prepared to go to the uttermost limit, sir," said Nicholas
Ratcliffe, his fingers closing like springs upon the hand that gripped
his, "if there is a limit. That is to say, I am ready to go through
hell for her. I am a straight shot, a cool shot, a dead shot. Will you
trust me?"
His voice throbbed with sudden feeling. General Roscoe was watching
him closely. "Can I trust you, Nick?" he said.
There was an instant's silence, and the two men in the background
were aware that something passed between them--a look or a rapid
sign--which they did not witness. Then reckless and debonair came
Nick's voice.
"I don't know, sir. But if I am untrustworthy, may I die to-night!"
General Roscoe laid his free hand upon the young man's shoulder.
"Is it so, Nick?" he said, and uttered a heavy sigh. "Well--so be it
then. I trust you."
"That settles it, sir," said Nick cheerily. "The job is mine."
He turned round with a certain arrogance of bearing, and walked to the
door. But there he stopped, looking back through the darkness at the
dim figures he had left.
"Perhaps you will tell Miss Roscoe that you have appointed me
deputy-governor," he said. "And tell her not to be frightened, sir.
Say I'm not such a bogey as I look, and that she will be perfectly
safe with me." His tone was half-serious, half-jocular. He wrenched
open the door not waiting for a reply.
"I must go back to the guns," he said, and the next moment was gone,
striding carelessly down the passage, and whistling a music-hall
ballad as he went.
CHAPTER II
A SOLDIER'S DAUGHTER
In the centre of the little frontier fort there was a room which one
and all of its defenders regarded as sacred. It was an insignificant
chamber, narrow as a prison cell and almost as bare; but it was the
safest place in the fort. In it General Roscoe's daughter--the only
white woman in the garrison--had dwelt safely since the beginning of
that dreadful siege.
Strictly forbidden by her father to stir from her refuge without
his express permission, she had dragged out the long days in close
captivity, living in the midst of nerve-shattering tumult but taking
no part therein. She was little more than a child, and accustomed
to render implicit obedience to the father she idolised, or she had
scarcely been persuaded to submit to this rigorous seclusion. It would
perhaps have been better for her physically and even mentally to
have gone out and seen the horrors which were being daily enacted all
around her. She had at first pleaded for at least a limited freedom,
urging that she might take her part in caring for the wounded. But her
father had refused this request with such decision that she had never
repeated it. And so she had seen nothing while hearing much, lying
through
