A Princess of the Balkans/Chapter 7
CHAPTER VII.
High up on a little shelf of the wild Kapaonik Mountains the runaways had made their noonday halt at the cabin of a shaggy swineherd, whose pigs were rooting in the beech wood which clothed the flanks of the hill.
Above the cabin the mountain reared precipitously to a height of some six thousand feet. Beneath, the slope fell away more gradually to a narrow, thickly wooded valley, where the tumbling waters of the Moravitza foamed and roared and could be seen in places flashing like snow through vistas between the trees, the leaves of which were beginning to show a tint of autumn coloring.
The air was still and sweet with the odors of moss and fern, for it had rained the night before, and the hot midday sun was now beating down to distil the steaming earth in its own fragrance. The soothing murmur of the river arose in pulsing beats to the ears of the travelers. Overhead, the sky was clear and blue, and two eagles were weaving spirals as they mounted toward the zenith, calling to each other in clear and piercing notes.
Immediately around the cabin itself there was a little clearing which had been planted in maize; beyond this, the forest, which grew thickly on three sides, while on the fourth rose the bare, precipitous shoulder of the mountain.
Daintily perched on a block of wood, the Countess Rubitzki, attired in the costume of a Servian peasant boy, blew wreaths of smoke from her cigarette, and listened with a faint flush on her soft cheeks to some argument advanced by Dallas, who, with his back against a log, was basking luxuriously in the sunshine.
At a little distance, Sir James, in tweeds and puttees, was mixing some water with the strong native red wine for the refreshment of the Lady Thalia. She was clad like the countess, in a long smock of homespun wool, caught about the waist with a belt, and falling in a kilt which reached mid-thigh; full trousers of the same material, and heavy woolen stockings, with rawhide sandals laced across the ankle and halfway up the leg. Both girls might easily have passed as young European lads who, for comfort and convenience, had adopted the native costume. Their abundant hair was entirely hidden by their kalpaks, or round caps, fitting low on the head and supplemented by scarfs twisted turbanlike, as though to protect the back of the head against the rays of the sun.
For three and a half days they had pushed on rapidly, journeying through a wild and beautiful country, sparsely populated, and, for the greater part, forest-covered. The abduction had been skillfully managed by Dimitri, and had been unmarred by the slightest hitch. Returning from a banquet at the palace, their well-bribed coachman had driven to a lonely spot on the outskirts of the city, where their two cavaliers were awaiting them. The night being fine, they had put some thirty miles between themselves and Belgrade before the sunrise, when they had stopped to rest at the lonely farmhouse of a plum grower. Since then they had traveled throughout the day, and stopped for the night wherever a shelter presented itself.
"To-morrow," said Sir James, "we ought to get a glimpse of your hills, Thalia. 'Pon my word, I'll be rather sorry when we do! This has been no end of a lark."
The girl looked at him thoughtfully; then her eyes flitted across to where Dallas was sitting, and a faint shadow crossed her lovely face.
"I shall be sorry, too," she answered, in a low voice.
"What will you do when you get there?" asked Sir James.
"I will call together the chiefs and explain to them what Emilio wants to do, and try to show them the necessity of keeping the peace. We Shkipetari are composed of different clans, a good deal like the Scotch Highlanders, Sir James. Although most of my people are Mohammedans, they are quite unlike the Turks, whom they hate. My father was a bey, and had a great deal of authority; he was once called to Constantinople by the sultan, who did him a great deal of honor and persuaded him to do what he could to stop the incessant fighting and the attacks that were always being made on the Turkish caracols, or outposts. I think that they will listen to me and try to keep their people quiet. My father was killed by a band of Christians of the Bulgarian Church, and ever since there has been a blood feud with the Serbs of Emilio's district."
"I fancy your people are a pretty bloodthirsty crowd," observed Sir James.
"They are savage," Thalia admitted, "but they are straightforward and chivalrous, not treacherous, like the Serbs. A woman could go anywhere alone through our hills with perfect safety, and so could a traveler whom they had nothing against. But there is no such thing as law and order, and"—she smiled—"we settle our disputes in our own way. Nobody ever tries to interfere with the Shkipetari."
Sir James laughed, and, stretching his long limbs luxuriously in the warm sunshine, lit a cigarette. Their luncheon had been a hearty one, as the day before, Dallas, a splendid shot, had killed a red deer far across a rocky gorge through which their trail had wound. Dimitri's beady eyes had narrowed at sight of the buck tumbling down the bare hillside, and the expression of the guide's face had not been lost on Connors.
"'Twas not the look a mon would wear, sorrs, at sight of meat in camp," said the Irishman later to Sir James and Dallas. "He will stand a lot of watchin', this Dimitri. I c'u'd see the workin's o' the scalawag's brain as plain as ye see the innerds of a glass travelin' clock. Thinks he, 'I'll take good care that niver ye get the chance to draw a bead on me!'"
Connors was unpacking a few delicacies when Sir James saw him stop in the act of unbuckling a strap, and, shading his eyes with his hand, stare up at a ledge which almost overhung the cabin.
"What do you see, Connors?" he called.
The Irishman turned.
"There's three chamois, sorr, wan a buck, just passed around that ledge of rock beyant."
Dallas, a keen sportsman, sprang to his feet. "Do you think I could get a shot?" he asked.
"Yis, sorr, but 'tis a bit of a climb."
Dallas quickly entered the cabin, to emerge a moment later with his 30-40. "I'm going to have a try for the buck," said he.
"May I go with you?" asked Thalia, rising.
Dallas glanced dubiously at the almost sheer face of the mountain.
"It's a rough climb."
"I'm a hill woman."
"All right; come ahead, then."
Dimitri, hearing their voices, had come to the door of the hut and was looking at Dallas through narrowed lids.
"Better not go, sar," said he. "We start now pretty quick."
Dallas glanced at him in surprise. "Thought you said we shouldn't leave for another hour," said he.
"That pass very quick when you chase goats."
"I'll be back," said Dallas shortly, and had turned toward the mountain when Dimitri spoke again.
"Better stay here, sar," said he. "This fella"—he pointed at the goatherd, who was giving some fodder to the horses—"he tell me we better start right away, to get across those hills before dark. Road very bad; straight up and straight down."
"All right," said Dallas indifferently. "I will be back by the time that you are ready to start."
He turned away, and Dimitri scowled and went back into the hut.
"Come on, Thalia," said Dallas, "if you really want to go; but it's going to be a hard climb."
The girl glanced at him and smiled. Throughout their journey there had been in her manner toward Dallas a hint of mockery which had rather puzzled the young man, who had gradually come to the conclusion that the Albanian lady was inclined to regard him as a somewhat effete production of over-civilization.
They started to climb in silence. For the first hundred feet, the ascent presented no especial difficulties, but a little higher up they found themselves confronted by sheer cliff, seamed and eroded, and, although quite surmountable to the experienced mountaineer, yet dangerous from its steepness.
Dallas glanced up in some dismay.
"This job is not so easy as it looks from down below," said he. "You'd better not tackle it, Thalia."
She glanced into his flushed face with her mocking little smile.
"Are you quite sure that you had better tackle it yourself?"
"I am not crazy about it—with this rifle," he admitted.
"Then give the rifle to me."
"What nonsense!"
"Then come ahead. I'll go first and pick out our route." She glanced at him over her shoulder and smiled again. "You see, Mr. Dallas, this is my country. Have you a steady head?"
"Fairly. If I get frightened, you can come back and carry me up."
Something in the dry tone brought a quick flush to the girl's cheek and a little sparkle in her eyes. Without answering, she turned and started to pick her way up the rough side of the cliff. Dallas, pausing to sling the rifle across his back, followed her.
For about a hundred feet they worked their way up from ledge to ledge. Then came a stretch of turf, firm but so steep that a fall would have meant rolling down over the brink and death on the jagged rocks beneath. A hundred feet up this almost precipitous bank, Thalia paused, and, standing beautifully poised, looked back at Dallas, who was working his way gingerly up on all fours.
"Better not look back," snapped the young man. "And I say, Thalia, don't stand up like that. It makes me rather sick to look at you!" He glanced back over his shoulder, then rested, digging his toes into the turf and flattening his body against the almost vertical incline. "My word! This is worse than sheer rock."
Thalia glanced at him sharply, and the smile left her lips.
"Give me the rifle," said she.
"Don't be silly."
"No, I insist. This is only dangerous if one gets giddy, and heights have absolutely no effect on me. Come, slip it off!"
"Thalia, don't lean forward like that!" Dallas dug his fingers into the soft mold. "Hang it, it's worse to watch you than it is to climb the bally thing! Come on, let's go up."
She threw him a quick, anxious look, then turned and began to climb rapidly upward. On a narrow ledge of less than a yard in width, she stopped and waited for Dallas to join her.
"There are only about fifty feet more," said the girl, "and then it will be easier. But the next fifty feet are rather sheer; will you not give me the rifle?"
"Look here, Thalia," said Dallas, "if you keep on bothering me about this confounded rifle, I'll throw it over the edge of the precipice."
"Better that than to risk a fall."
"I don't intend to fall. But it's some time since I've done any climbing, and my head isn't quite as steady as it might be."
"Then I insist on your giving me the rifle."
"Stop it!" growled Dallas. "Come on, let's get it over with."
Without answering, the girl started to work her way up a narrow fissure on the face of the cliff. A little higher, the seam widened into what is known to alpinists as a "chimney." Nearly at the top, Thalia, who was in the act of swinging her lithe body over the rim of a broad shelf, heard a gasp, and, poised as she was, glanced back into Dallas' pale, upturned face. While he was reaching up to grip a spur of rock which offered a safe handhold, the stock of the rifle had struck the face of the cliff in such a way as to upset his balance, for the moment insecure. As a result, he had pitched sideways, and only saved himself from falling by throwing his outside foot across to the opposite wall of the "chimney," so that he stopped for the moment wedged in something of the position of a circus performer riding two horses, with one foot on the back of either. Beneath him, the "chimney" widened so that if he had slipped down a few inches his purchase would have been lost, and he would have fallen to the ledge, and thence to the jagged rocks a hundred feet or more beneath.
As Thalia glanced down, her practiced eye saw the danger, which was for the moment extreme. Swinging herself face downward across the ledge, she gripped the shoulder of Dallas' loose khaki coat. Although unable to hold his weight, she could nevertheless take a good deal of it, and, what was more important, shift it to the side of the foot which was well planted. Dallas, feeling the other foot beginning to slip on the face of the rock, and realizing the danger of his position, knew instinctively that if he fell he would drag the girl after him. He turned his blanched face up to hers.
"Let go!" he gasped. "I'm all right."
Thalia's own face was like chalk.
"Kick yourself back to the ledge!" she panted. "Quick!"
Dallas' hand, as well as his foot, was braced against the outer wall; the fingers of his other hand were hooked in a little crevice.
"I'd lose my balance."
"No, you won't! Do as I say!" Thalia spoke through her clenched teeth.
"All right, here goes!"
Putting out all his strength, Dallas thrust himself violently back against the face of the cliff. As he did so, Thalia swung his body with all her force in the same direction, and for a moment held him barely balanced against the sheer side of the rock. But Dallas felt that he could not keep his position.
"Let go!" he gasped.
"Now reach up and grab that knob of rock with your free hand."
"Don't dare!"
"Do as I say!"
Like a man in a nightmare, he swung his arm upward; for a moment he hung poised, on the verge of falling; then his fingers closed on the projection, and for the moment he was safe.
"Now climb up!" said Thalia. "Slowly!"
With his heart in his mouth, Dallas slowly raised himself to the rim of the ledge, then over it, and a moment later was lying face downward on the rock.
For a few seconds he neither moved nor spoke. Then he turned his haggard, colorless face toward the girl. Thalia's breath was coming quickly, her cheeks were like chalk, and her eyes dark and luminous.
"That was a close squeak," said Dallas.
She nodded. Dallas raised himself and crawled back from the brink.
"Thalia," said he, "if I had fallen, you'd have come, too."
"I should have wanted to."
Dallas held out his hand, and Thalia dropped hers into it. Their eyes met for a moment; then those of the girl looked away.
"We are all right now," said she. "The rest is easy."
Dallas did not answer, and for a moment the two sat side by side in silence. Then Thalia, who had been looking down upon the cabin far beneath, uttered a little exclamation.
"What is it?" asked Dallas.
"Those people." She pointed downward.
Staring in the direction indicated, Dallas saw a company of men ascending the trail which led to the hut, There appeared to be about a dozen, all of whom were carrying guns. As far as he could see, for the distance was considerable, the men were dressed like the shepherds and swineherds which they had met from time to time.
"Who are they?" he asked.
Thalia shook her head.
"I don't like it," muttered Dallas.
"Nor I."
He glanced at her quickly. "Brigands?"
"Look!" cried the girl. "There! Behind the hut! What is Dimitri doing?"
In the rear of the cabin they could see the guide apparently pawing at something under the edge of the wall. As they watched, puzzled and disturbed, the man hauled a gun from underneath the cabin. Laying the weapon aside, he reached in again and hauled out another, then a third and a fourth. And then suddenly Dallas understood.
"It's a trap!" he snarled, turning his pale face to Thalia. "The swine is stealing the rifles! You see? He knocked a hole in the mud wall and shoved the guns through, then went around behind so as not to be seen. It's a put-up job, Thalia! He's been waiting for that gang down below."
As he spoke, the Serb gathered up the four guns and stood for a moment as if listening. Dallas quickly unslung his rifle and flung himself face downward on the edge of the cliff.
"What!" cried Thalia breathlessly. "You are going to—to"
Her voice failed her. But Dallas was measuring the range with a cold, practiced eye.
"Seven hundred—eight hundred—but it's a drop," he muttered, fingering the sight of the beautiful weapon.
Thalia clasped her hands over her mouth. Her light hazel eyes had grown suddenly black.
Down below, the treacherous Serb had turned and was stealing away. In front of the cabin, Sir James and Paula were standing side by side, apparently looking up toward the ledge. Connors was not in sight. The company of men coming up the trail had stopped under the brow of the hill, and appeared to be waiting.
Lying face downward, Dallas cuddled the stock of his rifle under his chin. Thalia, her hands still clasped over her mouth, was watching Dimitri, who presently paused again and looked back.
Dallas was as rigid as the rocks beneath him. The long, thin, blue-black rifle barrel had lost its slight oscillation and was motionless as he.
Then all at once there leaped from the muzzle a pale-blue jet; there was a sharp report, which was the next instant rolled out from the sheer side of the mountain in echoing reverberations. Dallas jerked his head quickly to the side, while as if by instinct his hand went to the lever and threw a fresh cartridge into the chamber.
But there was no need. Far below, the small, crouching figure of Dimitri lurched suddenly forward, his arms flew out, and the rifles went scattering in all directions. The body straightened, and a faint yell was wafted up in thin and tremulous tones. Then the guide's figure swayed, tottered, and fell upon the ground, where it lay motionless.