The Air Patrol: A Story of the North-west FrontierStrang, Herbert
General
The Air Patrol: A Story of the North-west Frontier
Strang, Herbert
Adventure stories; Airplanes -- Juvenile fiction; British -- India -- Juvenile fiction; Imaginary wars and battles -- Juvenile fiction
He salaamed and returned to his companions, who had been keeping one eye
on the enemy, the other on the curious scene two hundred yards
up-stream. It was indeed a strange position: the two men calmly smoking
and discussing their plans, while at no great distance lurked a
ferocious band ready to leap to the attack at any moment. They too had
been consulting together, but their imagination was not active enough to
lead them to any satisfactory conclusion. The dynamite bomb had been
intended to check them: that was evident; and they decided that it would
be wise to wait patiently for developments. Nurla Bai was very much
annoyed. He had undergone great exertions and endured much fatigue to
achieve his object--the slaughter or dispersal of the Pathans; and it
was exasperating to find himself at a check just when he had them at his
mercy, through the ingenuity of an Englishman and the astounding
swiftness of his flying machine. He began to wish that, instead of
picking up bits of rock in the gallery on that dark night, he had made
his way to the platform and done some vital damage to the aeroplane.
Perhaps a lucky shot would bring it down when it again passed over the
position. But he hoped there would be no more dynamite bombs.
CHAPTER THE FIFTEENTH
NURLA BAI SLIPS THE NOOSE
And now began the strangest game of chevy chase that was ever played.
In a few minutes Bob and the Gurkha were flying northward. As they
approached the area upon which the Kalmucks were assembled, Bob steered
to the right, so as to cross the position obliquely. Some of the men
were in the act of covering the aeroplane with their rifles, when the
sight of a bright red object descending from the sky struck them with a
sort of paralysis. The coffee tin fell almost midway between them and
the Pathans. Dust and splinters of rock flew in all directions, and the
Kalmucks, with one consent, scampered along the track towards the mine.
Bob listened for rifle-shots; he knew that the Pathans’ obedience would
be put to a severe test when they saw their enemies in flight. Not a
shot was fired.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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