On the Road to Bagdad: A Story of Townshend's Gallant Advance on the TigrisBrereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
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On the Road to Bagdad: A Story of Townshend's Gallant Advance on the Tigris
Brereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
World War, 1914-1918 -- Juvenile fiction
But you could not damp Phil's ardour or his spirits however much cold
water you threw upon them. He gurgled for a while, gasped rather loudly,
and took to whistling. Then, when they had covered perhaps a hundred
yards, he again opened the subject; indeed, he proceeded with the
discussion as though it had never been broken off, as if there had been
no such thing as an interruption.
"Well," he said testily. "Well, who wants to be told that sort of thing?
Don't I know just as well as you do that the case ain't quite the same,
that we are prisoners and in the enemy's lines, instead of being free
and behind them? But it's near enough, surely. A chap has only got to
escape from these fellows who have bagged us, and--and--and there you
are!"
"And--and--there you are!" laughed Geoff, catching his enthusiasm
instantly; indeed, our hero had already been thinking furiously as to
how he and his friends were to circumvent this difficult position in
which they found themselves, and to shake off the hold which the Turks
had cast upon them. And why, as Philip said, if only they could make
their escape, seeing that they would then presumably be behind the lines
of the enemy, why should they not turn their faces towards Bagdad, and
go on with the rescue of Douglas Pasha.
"Jingo! We'll do it," he told his friend.
"You--you--you consent? You think it's possible?" asked Phil, his voice
eager, his face lit up--though, to be sure, it could not be seen because
of the darkness.
"Hush! We're in the centre of the camp, and the guard is closing in on
us," Geoff warned him. "But, just a last word in case we are separated,
I am going to do my best to escape, and if I succeed, and can get you
and Esbul free also, I am off for Bagdad."
"Done, with you! Shake hands on it!" cried Phil, gripping his chum's
palm and shaking it warmly. "Ripping! The thought of such an expedition
makes up for this ghastly business; perhaps to-night we'll do it,
perhaps to-morrow, and--and--well, you can rely on me standing by you,
old fellow. If they separate us, and the chance comes to me to slip my
cable, you know, don't you, Geoff, that I'll stand by until I get you
and Esbul out, so as to complete the party?"
There was no time for Geoff to make a reply, no time to thank his chum
for an expression of loyalty which was just like him, for the guard had
already closed in, men were gripping their arms on either side, while,
despite the caution of Tewfic Pasha, one at least of the men showed
little love for the captives.
"Dog," he whispered in Geoff's ear, "you infidel who speak our language,
be silent, or I will screw the head from your body."
"Unpleasant fellow," muttered Geoff, yet smiling serenely, for he knew
well enough that a call to Tewfic Pasha would relieve him of this
threatening fellow's attentions. "Ah! That appears to be the Turkish
Head-quarters."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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