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
"What shadows we are, what shadows we pursue!" sighed Ditta Lal. "After
mountainous travail I produce splendiferous line; I rack my cranium for
colleague or successor; but final word, whose function is to charm
attentive ear, eludes, evades, crumps. To wit: ’And batters blackguards
with his boisterous bomb!’--line perfect in harmony and melody and all
that; but when I run through alphabet for rhyme--_com, dom, fom, gom,
hom_, and so on till I come to blank wall at _zom_: not a word, sir,
that fulfils mutual demand of sound and sense--not one word."
"What on earth are you gassing about, Babu?" asked Lawrence, who had not
heard of his previous conversation with Bob.
"Of what, sir, but task entrusted to unworthy servant by honourable
brother, to compose song of victory, ode, epic, or what not, in
celebration of happy and glorious achievement about to be consummated!
But I will not despair; nil desperandum; as you truly remark, we can but
do our best; resources of civilisation as represented by B.A. degree of
Calcutta University are not exhausted; something attempted, something
done, shall earn my night’s repose, of which I shall be jolly and
unmistakably glad, for agony of expressing thoughts too deep for tears
wrings honest brow, sir."
Lawrence feared that the stress of the situation was making the Babu
mad; but he spoke a sympathetic word, and passed on.
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SIXTH
THE DEATH TRAP
There was no alarm from beyond the bend during the night. But in the
small hours the sentry at the bridge gave a loud shout, and fired
southward up the track. When Lawrence rushed from the house to discover
what had happened, he learnt that the sentry had seen a number of dim
figures creeping towards the mine. They had now disappeared. Lawrence
conjectured that Nurla Bai and his friends, who must now be nearly
famished, had been attracted by the sound of guns, and stolen down in
the hope of eluding the vigilance of the garrison, and gaining the path
that led above their old quarters and descended on the track on the
nearer side of the bend. Even if they had got thus far undetected, they
could not but have fallen into the hands of the defenders of the
breastwork. It was an attempt they were not likely to repeat. There
was no chance of their rejoining the Kalmuck army until the defence was
broken.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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