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
And then he remembered the Kalmucks, whom for the time he had forgotten.
He had seen nothing of them either going or coming, but unless they had
struck across the hills, which was unlikely, they must be very near to
where he now was. They could not fail to have heard the successive
explosions of the bombs, so that they would be on the alert. They might
have seen the descent of the aeroplane from their lurking places among
the rocks, and if they should guess that he had come to grief, they
would have him at their mercy. As soon as his thoughts took this
direction Lawrence got up and unstrapped his rifle from the aeroplane.
He took his revolver from his pocket; it was uninjured. Then lifting
his field-glass he swept the surrounding country for signs of the enemy.
He had to admit to himself that his position could scarcely be worse.
The spot on which he had landed was fairly open, but it was surrounded
by broken ground that would give ample cover to an enemy. On two sides,
up- and down-stream, the clumps of woodland approached to within a
hundred yards. Below him, not far away, was the river, lined on both
banks with a thick fringe of brushwood and rushes. Above, the hill rose
gently for a great distance, but it was very rugged, broken by contorted
fissures, through some of which rivulets zigzagged swiftly down to the
river. He swept the country again and again with his glass, and took
some comfort from the absence of any sign of man; but there were so many
places where the Kalmucks might be in hiding that he thought it wise to
seek some secluded spot himself, where he would be better able than on
the open ground to guard against surprise.
He rose and limped up the slope of the hill. After a little search, he
discovered a hollow about forty yards above the aeroplane, from which he
could take a bird’s-eye view of the ground, and where he had a certain
amount of shelter. Thither he carried his rifle, a basket of food and a
flask of water, and lay down to wait with what patience he might for the
coming of Major Endicott.
It was now midday, and the sun was very hot. For some time he kept a
sharp look-out, examining the country every few minutes through his
field-glass, and creeping from side to side of the hollow so as to
extend and change his view. Presently, however, the great heat and his
failure to discover any trace of the enemy caused him to relax his
vigilance. He was very tired; whenever he moved, his ankle gave him
much pain; and, as at the bridge during his night watch, an oppressive
drowsiness stole upon him, which he found it impossible to shake off.
He would nod, recover himself, vow that it should not happen again, and
in another minute his head would fall forward, and he opened his eyes
bedazed and scarcely realizing where he was. Then once more he raised
the glass to his eyes, and gazed around almost mechanically, only to go
through the same series of nods and starts again.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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