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The Adventures of Kathlyn

Page 108

The golden sands, the purple cliffs, the translucent blue of the

heavens, and the group of picturesque rascals jabbering and

gesticulating and pressing about their chief, made a picture Kathlyn

was never to forget.

"Patience, my little ones!" said the chief, showing his white strong

teeth in what was more of a snarl than a smile. "There is plenty of

time."

Bruce leaned toward Kathlyn.

"Stand perfectly still, just as you are. I believe I can reach the

knot back of your hands. This squabbling is the very thing needed.

They will not pay any attention to us for a few minutes, and if I can

read signs they'll all be at one another's throats shortly."

"But even if we get free what can we do?"

Kathlyn was beginning to lose both faith and heart. The sight of her

father being led back to Allaha by Durga Ram, after all the misery to

which he had been subjected, shook the courage which had held her up

these long happy weeks. For she realized that her father was still

weak, and that any additional suffering would kill him.

"You mustn't talk like that," said Bruce. "You've been in tighter

places than this. If we can get free, leave the rest to me. So long

as one can see and hear and move, there's hope."

"I'm becoming a coward. Do what you can. I promise to obey you in all

things."

Bruce bent as far as he could, and went desperately to work at the knot

with his teeth. Success or failure did not really matter; simply, he

did not propose to die without making a mighty struggle to avoid death.

The first knot became loose, then another. Kathlyn stirred her hands

cautiously.

"Now!" he whispered.

She twisted her hands two or three times and found them free.

"Mine, now!" said Bruce. "Hurry!"

It was a simple matter for her to release Bruce.

"God bless those rupees!" he murmured. "There'll be a fine row in a

minute. Keep perfectly still, and when the moment comes follow me into

the cave. They have left their guns in there."

"You are a brave and ready man, Mr. Bruce."

"You called me John once."

"Well, then, John," a ghost of a smile flitting across her lips. Men

were not generally sentimental in the face of death.

"There are nine of us!" screamed one of the brigands.

"And I claim one bag because without my help and brains you would have

had nothing," roared the chief. "Who warned you against the opium?

Ha, pig!"

The first blow was struck. Instantly the chief drew his knife and

lunged at the two nearest him.

"Treachery!"

"Ha! Pigs! Dogs! Come, I'll show you who is master!"

"Thief!"

The remaining brigands closed in upon their leader and bore him upon

his back.

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