chists disclosed their identity with a burst of fire from their automatic pistols. The Vampire was now almost opposite the stranded dug-out, and about one hundred and fifty yards away from it, the river rushing, rough, hissing, and foam-flecked, between them, The anarchists' fire was concentrated on the launch's bridge, and as the result of a lucky shot the serang at the wheel rolled quietly under his steering apparatus. Uncontrolled, the Vampire swung off her course at once, and again bade fair to become the toy of the elements. The Subaltern, however, seized the abandoned wheel and drove her bows into the current anew. At this fresh strain upon them, her indignant engines banged and rattled as though they were going to fall through her bottom, "Wait till I get a chance of a shot back at the swine!" raged the Hun-Child, scarlet in the face between his fury and his unaccustomed labours. "Thank God, here's another lascar.... Here . . . take hold you. and handing over the wheel to a native sailor, he ran to join the Assistant Superintendent, who was mustering his half-dozen constables amidships. By this time-as a result of the Subaltern's saving of the situation the steam- launch had crawled several hundred yards above the stranded dugout, and here Fortune began to favour the representatives of the Law. The flood had scooped out a great orescent shaped sweep of land where the bank was softest, and this had automatically resulted in the formation of a kind of promontory, where the firmer ground up-stream still stood fast. The Policeman's disoriminating eye now rapidly took in the possibilities of this topographic situation, and steering the Vampire into the comparatively slack water below this newly-formed and natural breakwater, he cast anchor there, and waited to see how she took the strain. Thrice they were obliged to pay out more cable, but at length the launch ceased dragging down-stream, and came to a fairly firm anchorage. "I'm pushing off in the dingey,' explained the Policeman hurriedly as he strapped his revolver to his belt; "if we hug what's left of the bank we ought to be able to drift straight down on the top of those chaps. You might stop on board and look after things while I'm away." "Be d-d if I do!" replied his frankly insubordinate special constable, and a minute later both of them fell pellmell among the serangs and police sepoys in the rocking rowboat below. Although the water under the bank had been slack enough to admit of the steamlaunch anchoring there, it was -as the Hun-Child remarked tersely-"no immoral joy-ride" in the open dingey. The moment they cast off from the launch a hissing swirl carried them over the top of the flooded bank, and bore them nearly a quarter of a mile inland. Here, however, the current becoming weaker and more erratic, the serangs were able to row an indirect course, which took them appreciably nearer the anarchists, who still lay below them down-stream. These latter could be seen making desperate efforts to refloat the dug-out, but it appeared to be irrevocably fixed where it had first grounded. At intervals both sides sniped each other in the moonlight, but with no effect that was apparent. Meanwhile the dingey was rowed back to a strategic point from which it seemed probable-after observing the course of minor flotsam as it passed-that the current would eventually carry them straight down upon their prey. Bidding the serangs ship their oars and draw their knives, the Policeman steered the little boat into the very heart of the next eddy, simultaneously announcing his intention of "letting her rip." He let her rip, with the most astonishing results for all concerned. The dingey slipping into the eddy sprung round twice like a teetotum, and then in a flash before either friend or foe knew exactly what had happened, she had charged the dug-out broadside on, with all the accuracy and velocity of a well-directed torpedo. After that, as the Hun- Child said -borrowing metaphor from 'Alice in Wonderland'-"most things twinkled." To describe with any degree of lucidity the varying fortunes of a life and death struggle which took place by moonlight in three or four feet of mud and water between the late occupants of two capsized boats is obviously no easy task. Suffice to say that the Subaltern more than once realised his ambition of "heartto-heart talk" with his foes. Firearms-as such-played little part in the mêlée, because nearly all of them were jammed with mud and thus rendered useless. The police, however, were using the butt in such cases as the collision had not parted them from their carbines. Where they had lost these weapons they drew their bayonets from their belts and stabbed; the anarchists struck back with pistol-butt, oarblade, and in two cases with Russian sword walking-sticks. The Hun - Child was being rather badly punished by two heavily-built men, who had collared him low and dragged him down. With great promptitude he had kioked the first in the stomach when attacked, and blacked the second's eye; but having lost his rifle he was unable to inflict mortal injury upon his assailants. They for their part were attempting to use their superiority in weight and numbers to thrust his head under the mud with the object of smothering him. At one time it looked as though their efforts might be crowned with success, for the Subaltern was built on the lines of a light-weight 'chase rider rather than wrestler, whereas both the Bengalis turned the scale at twelve or thirteen stone. For anarchists; for, as a class, the latter always relied on stream of bullets from their automatics to settle the police's hash when they came into collision with them, and pistols are singularly ineffectual weapons when used for anything except their natural purpose. tunately, however, at this the affray had taken place oritical moment the Policeman had not handicapped the managed to struggle to his men armed with carbines or assistance. Vaguely-as Vaguely-as one bayonets half so much as the sees things in a dream-the Subaltern saw his rescuer stumble towards him; but he scarcely recognised his no longer blasé friend in this agile shadow that leaped suddenly upon his assailants' backs, and stabbed both scientifically in swift succession with a venemous-looking serang's knife. "Thanks, old chap," coughed the Subaltern, half stifled by slime, but still remembering the philosophy of his Surtees: "Luvely weather for bees ain't it?" How long the fracas lasted it would be rash to hazard any opinion. Three anarchists managed to to flounder away from the mud-flat and apparently reached the flooded mainland; but it is more than probable that they were drowned there later, because they were never heard of again, and the flood rose much higher before the night was over. Of the rest, five of the gang were unquestionably dead, and three still remained. The latter stood sullenly at bay, their backs against the wreckage of the boats; but at this juncture both sides were 80 exhausted by their "tangle-foot" exertions in the glutinous bog, that a brief armistice ensued automatically. The Police had their casualties, too, but they were not so heavy as the enemy's. The fact that firearms had been rendered valueless by the conditions under which The Hun-Child was the first to recover his breath during this temporary pause in the proceedings. "This," he gasped, peering through a reeking mask of mud and weed like some diminutive Father Thames, "is no sort of 8 job for cavalry; but hang that! Come on, you chaps. 'Ware corpses! Worry! worry! Tear 'um an' eat 'um! !" He made smothered hunting noises, and, straddling frog-like through the squelching ooze, flung himself upon the last of the enemy. The next thing he realised was a shattering blow across the side of his head, delivered unexpectedly by a hitherto concealed lifepreserver, and this was followed by a complete indifference to his immediate surroundings. class virtues which obtain in this country are drawn from a lucky-bag on the principle of a lottery, I don't suppose it'll make much difference whether my name's sent in or not." "Rot!" replied the Subaltern. "Simla's not so bad as you make out; besides which the Police medal isn't an obscure thingummybob for middle-class whatsitsnames." The Vampire thumped heavily against the bank and hooted her syren to express her satisfaction at her safe return, and Maria hooted back at her-for different reasons. sessed no wine cellar worth mentioning, seemed to her a positive outrage. When, therefore, a few days later, she perceived a small curl curl of smoke upon the horizon, she watched it with grave mistrust; and when it proved to be the Vampire returning on the current with the speed of a destroyer, she raised her trunk to heaven and used an expression of which any lady elephant she was a lady-should have been thoroughly ashamed. The launch flashed past Maria's standings on the bank, and then turning paddled its laborious way back to its old moorings again. The Hun-Child was reolining on deck, his head swathed in bloody bandages. What his medical adviser in Mesopotamia-who had originally invalided him for shell-shock-On my way here the train was would have thought of his patient's present idea of a restoure is only open to conjecture. However, notwithstanding his broken head, the Subaltern appeared in the best of spirits, as, for the twentieth time that morning, he helped his friend re-read a demi - official and guarded communication from his immediate superiors. "They're obviously frightfully buoked with you," he was saying. "If you hadn't snaffled them, it looks as if there'd have been some dirty work with the Governor's special train next week. I bet they recommend you for the Police medal." "As I'm given to understand," said the Policeman oynically, "that all the many obscure rewards for middle "Anyway," continued the Subaltern as the anchor chains dribbled out in a rumbling stream of noise, "I've had a run for my money this whack of leave. Messpot'll be tame after this blasted province of yours. tipped off the line by a landslip, and nobody seemed in the least surprised; then we nearly ran over that tigress in old Morrison's car; after that, I got slung over five acres of real estate by that d-d elephant; and finally, I've ended up by being sandbagged, mudlarkin' about on an oyster-bed, with a lot of lousy black Fenians." His host laughed apologetically. "Yes," he admitted, "I'm afraid we are a bit jungli in this part of the world. You never know what's going to happen next. We've a local proverb-'one d―d thing after another'-from an earthquake to a hurricane. To be quite candid, I'm getting a bit fed up with it myself. Still," he added more cheerfully, "I don't an awful slacker messing about here doing nothing in particular in war time." The Hun-Child giggled. "If this sort of game is your idea of slackin' about and doin' nothin'," he said, rubbing his bandaged forehead, "God forbid that I should ever meet you when you're feelin' energetio! And now," he concluded indefatigably, "let's push off on shore and give Maria some more exercise. She's lookin' as gross as a travellin' M.P. I know what she wants before I go back to Calcutta, and that's a real good wheelin' into line!" 1 Indian Army Reserve of Officers. |