THE PASS OF PERIL

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXIII, Issue 22608, 22 December 1936, Page 17

THE PASS OF PERIL

By EDMUND BARCLAY Author of " Karona," etc.

CHAPTER XlV. —(Continued) When the dawn came, the tlireo of them looked about them eagerly for any signs of the mighty cataclysm of the night, but there were none to be seen. A boulder'strewn valley, boulder strewn hill-sides, and above them all tho unchanging snow-fields, all as it had been before,! What bad been an upheaval of nature to the three men bad been but a slight surface irritation to the mountains. It appeared to Garvio as through his binoculars he scanned the peaks to the south of them, that one showed a bigger expanse of brown scar than had been there yesterday, but even of that he could not be sure, and there were only the two dead animals, and memory, to tell them that indeed the night had been a night of terror.

They journeyed for two hours, making the remarkably good going of four miles an hour before they came across more definite signs of the avalanche, and then noticed that many of the side valleys to the left of them were choked with boulders and snow, while the snow-line itself was much lower than in the country they had just passed through.

It was a bright and sunny morning, with not a cloud in the sky, and it was hard to realise that any one of the snow-choked pockets and side valleys which they passed" might hold the buried remains of Sep. Deeming and his escort, and the beautilul Mvra. It seemed almost incredible that her vivid personality could ever be stilled, and Garvie was conscious of a curious ache, bis mind visualised her being pulped into nothingness by the crushing force of the avalanche. She had always been an uneasv figure in his thoughts, and he had always felt diffident of trying to classify the emotions which she stirred in him. She was disturbing, very! Could he disassociate her from the circumstances surrounding their association? Why should he feel as it he had been robbed of something—something he could not name or even visualise to himself. He wondered if she bad known that death was rushing down the moun-tain-side toward her, or had she died in her sleep? Mad terror found its way into those brave eyes of translucent green? Better for him, perhaps, if lie had never seen those eyes, lor their lovely cool greenness seemed to awaken within him previously unknown desires and tender thoughts which were strangely at variance with honour and duty. And yet ' they implied 110 disloyalty to someone else. Those nameless little emotions and thoughts were not wrong in themselves. 1 hey were selfless and sincere; curious little dreams; dreams which led him nowhere—delicate little fancies which had to be stilled with a wistful regret, for his road could never he hers. And now she was dead! "Michael" she had called him. "Michael". . . and then he. spun round 011 his heels as if shot, for distinctly there came to him down the valley the echoing cry in Myra's voice. '"Michael! ... Michael!" Twice it came, and it was the subahdar, who from the extra height given him by his horse, first saw her as she hobbled toward them on weary legs. Without waiting for the order, the Hindu drove in his spurs, and galloped toward her. while the two Englishmen halted and watched him. "See if you can get a fire going, Clark," said Garvie, "and brew some tea. She'll probably need it." Clark grunted, as be poured the last drop of spirit into the stove. "Suppose we've got to feed her," he muttered, "and it was only yesterday that we was a-thinking they was a-going to feed us. Hopes it chokes her. Starving's too good a death for that bunch, after what happened in that there tower." Garvie's face hardened, and he awaited her arrival with tightened lips. The trooper's words had served utterly to dispel the soft romantic glamour, which had seemed to surround her after her supposed death in the avalanche. Not that he believed the girl to have played any part, active or otherwise, in the torture. He knew enough of the father's regard for her to believe that most probably she had been kept in ignorance of that ghastly episode, but a* he watched her coining toward him, with one arm flung over the subahdar's saddle, he thought of all that had happened since their first meeting, and in violent reaction from his previous mild spasm of sentimentality, 110 mentally dubbed her "adventuress," and it was with an impassive face that lie walked forward to assist her. She had evidently suffered severely. Her face and arms were scratched and caked with dried blood, she wore no hat and her hair was tangled and tousled in a manner which gave her a singularly boyish look. Her shirt had practically been ripped from her, and as with her free hand she held its fragments about her, he saw that the white flesh had been scored and sadly bruised. It seemed as if her legs had hardly sufficient strength to carry her, but her eyes were brave, and her chin was tilted at its usual proud and provocative angle. She was unashamedly glad and thankful to see him, but the look she got in answer to her greeting sent the gladness from her face as if with an acid-dipped sponge. In spite of her protests, he picked her tip and carried her to where Clark had spread a saddle-blanket for her reception, fortunately they still carried a fairly adequate first-aid kit comprising bandages, lint, and iodine, and Garvio did what lie could 'for the girl, feeling absurdly pleased that her injuries were superficial, for they consisted entirely of extensive abrasions and bruises. "I am afraid this iodine is going to sting like the very deuce, he said, as be dabbed some on a particularly deep scratch "Please go straight ahead," she answered, keeping the tremor out of her voice. "Guess 1 can count myself lucky to be alive." "You can," ho said, in tones which left little doubt as to his meaning. She sighed and replied half seriously, half playfully, "Jl's rather ironical, but if ever 1 want anybody to think particularly well of me, they always end up by disliking mo intensely." To this he made no answer. Later, Myra gave a graphic narrative of her experiences in the storm. She had a fall from her horse, which bad half-stunned her and she had become separated from the rest of her party. The night was quiet again before she bad come fully to her senses, feeling very badly shaken, and very much frightened. From what she said, and from his own experiences, Garvie conjectured that the actual avalanche had begun and ended its devastating career high up on the slopes far above them, that which had flicked the British party, and which had administered a more severe blow to the Americans being hut the extreme outer fringe of the disturbance. It was as if a mighty stone had been flung into a pool, and they had been splashed only by the outer and least severe ripple. The girl was confident that her father's experience bad been somewhat similar to her own, and that he might be even now not so very far away, searching for her. "And won't he get a shock when he finds you here?" she laughed. "We thought you were being kept out ol harm's way in one of Ali Khan's villages. Who let you loose again? And have you been following us?" "Hurry up with that tea, Clark," was Garvie's only answer, and with a rueful sigh, the orderly broke open his precious "iron" rations, and poured his whole issue into tho boiling messtin.

"After you've been rested, Miss Deeming," continued Garvie, "J think we'd better push on, and try and meet your father. Do you think you'll be able to walk?" For answer she extended her legs,

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A STORY OF THRILLING ADVENTURE AND A GREAT LOVE

and the three men whistled as they saw that the soles of her riding boots were ripped clean away, disclosing the bare and bleeding feet. Instantly Garvie began unlacing the boots, a reluctant admiration swelling in him, as he saw that they were soaked in blood. "I've been scraping my way for hours over this razor-edged shale," she said, "and these boots were certainly made for riding, and not for walking." "Bv Jove, Myra!" he said, the words being almost torn from him, "but 1 admire your pluck. You must have been suffering agony this last twentyfour hours. Sit up on this rock so that I can wash your foot." "Guess I can do that myself," she replied. "Don't be a silly ass. Do as I tell you." There was a definite rasp in his voice as he spoke, and she demurely obeyed him, looking down at him slyly through lowered lashes. "So you think I'm plucky, do you?" she asked. "I'm glad there is something about me you can admire." "I think you know I have always admired your courage, Miss Deeming?" She laughed at a secret little thought, hesitated, and then spoke: "That's the last thing a woman wants to be admired for, Michael, couldn't you find something else to like?" she asked, not so softly but what both the subahdar and Clark could hear, and both of them smiled quietly. "Hurry up with that tea, Clark!" snapped Garvie, as he carefully pulled away the fragments of torn stockings from her feet. Myra smiled down at his bent head. "Say," she whispered, "I never thought to have you kneeling at my feet like this!" and she actually waggled her toes at him. "Miss Deeming? Why you called me Myra a moment ago. Why this sudden coolness between us?" "J didn't," riposted Garvie, and then bit his lip savagely as he heard Clark's amused and appreciative chuckle. He did not mean to do it, but he had the iodine in his hand at the time, and his start of annoyance made him pour the biting antiseptic more freely and lavishly than lie intended. She gasped, and then gave a little moan of pain. "I'm awfully sorry," he said drily, "but iodine does sting, doesn't it, Miss Deeming?" "It's not the only thing around hero that stings," she flung back, and then lowered her voice and bent her head so that tendrils of her hair wisped about bis ears. "Why pretend, Michael?" she whispered. "Really, you like me quite a lot. Perhaps you don't know it, but you do like me." He could cheerfully have slapped the girl, she was so confoundedly right. "What does it matter to you whether 1 do or I don't?" he asked, hoping that his tones were low enough to escape the keen, Cockney ears behind him.

"ft matters quite a lot to me, Michael," came the soft tremulous reply, which, as she spoke, changed to anger as she realised that her words were awakening no response. "It matters quite a lot to me, but nothing to you, I suppose. All right, I know I'm all wrong in your eyes, but I can t change my nature, not even for you. Maidenly modesty and dewy-eyed innocence were never much in my line, and perhaps you'd liko me a whole lot better if I pretended to be the clinging-ivv, please-don't-kiss-me type, but I'm 110 hypocrite. I'm not ashamed to show my likes and dislikes. Why should I bo?" Garvie tied the last knot in the foot bandage, and his voice was almost venomous as ho turned upon the unoffending trooper. "Confound you, Clark," he snapped, "how much longer are you going to be with that tea?" Clark was no fool, and he took the unmerited rebuke without a murmer, as, with tongue in cheek, he handed the steaming messtin to the girl, who now could not resist a little flare of temper.

"All right, Captain Michael Iceberg." she said, "one of these days you'll melt, and the bigger the frost, the bigger the thaw." The situation was relieved by the accidental intervention of the subahdar, who stiffly clambered down from his horse, saying laconically as he did so, "Enemy in sight, captain-sahib." Garvie whipped to his feet, and wheeling round saw a party of horsemen galloping up the valley toward them.

"Get the gun ready for action, Clark," lie said, and the Cockney leapt to the baggage-mules, chuckling joyfully as he unstrapped the gun and ammunition carriers. The subahdar hopped to a convenient rock, and, snuggling beside it, adopted the prone firing position and waited with ready rifle, while Garvie loosened his revolver in its holster. The girl, wide-eyed, watched these preparations, and then stammered, "But it's pop." "1 know it is," was Garvie's grim answer. "Hence the efficiency of the reception committee. If anything nasty happens at this meeting, Miss Deeming, it will be to him, not to 1110." "But you're not going to open fire 011 him, are you?" she begged, trying to struggle to her feet. "Not if he behaves himself," said Garvie. "You'd better shout to warn him that he is to come up here alone. 11 ho brings any of his smelly hill men friends nearer than this, they'll suddenly find themselves saying, "Goodmorning, Allah.' " But before they had ridden into point-blank range, Deeming and his men pulled up, and then advanced much more warily, the hill men breaking their bunched formation, and throwing out flanking files on either side. The activity 011 the slight hillock where stood Garvie, his men, and the girl, was not lost upon tlieni, and their pace became slower and slower. Myra shouted to her father, and waved him back, while at Garvie's orders, the trooper fired a small burst well overhead. Deeming sensed the situation immediately, so commanding his men to halt, and remain in peaceful passivity where they were, he rode forward himself at 11 steady trot, ostentatiously keeping his hands well away from his revolver and bucketed rifle. The meeting between father and daughter was typical. "Hello, pop," she said, "I thought yoi| must have dropped into a pokergame somewhere, you were such a long ti 1110 coining." "Don't blame me, Myra," was the drawled answer, "blame the municipal authorities in these parts. They've left the sidewalks still blocked up with snow. We had a bit of an avalanche last night. Did you meet any of it?" "A little. Do you see who is here, pop? Captain Michael Houdini himself, the world's greatest escapeologist. There's no prison built can hold him." "Good-day, captain," said Deeming. "[ hope you're feeling more spry than you look' Mow long is that subahdar guy of yours going to keep me covered with that rifle of his?" ".lust as long as I choose, Deeming," said Garvie. "Your family seems to be renowned for ils shiftiness, and I don't intend to let you score off me again. Subahdar, if Deeming makes any false move, shoot him as you would shoot any other pariah." The girl's face flamed. "You don't mince your words, do you Michael?" .(To be continued dally).