"Back, back," he cried, meeting the other two in the doorway. "There's a row on, of sorts, and they are shooting. Help me with the door, Colonel."

It was a fortunate circ.u.mstance that Upward had called their attention to this means of defence, and that they had all looked at it, and partly tried it. Now it swung to without a hitch--and no sooner had it done so than four of those without flung themselves against it with a savage howl. These were the Marris who had unconsciously been the means of saving Campian's life--and realising that fact, promptly decided to join their Ghazi countrymen, and repair if possible the error. And, indeed, the same held good of the others on the platform. They were there by accident, but, being there, their innate savagery and fanaticism blazed up in response to the maddening slogan of the Ghazis, with whom, almost to a man, they decided to make common cause. If ever a sharp and vivid contrast was to be witnessed it was here. The peaceful, prosaic, commonplace railway station platform of a few moments ago, was now a very h.e.l.l of raging s.h.a.ggy demons, yelling with fury and fanatical hate, rolling their eyes around in search of more victims, as they splashed and slipped in the blood of those they had already ma.s.sacred.

Then someone brought news that there were more coolies, hiding for their lives behind a wood pile a little way up the line. With howls of delight, a dozen barbarians started to find some fresh victims, and the defenceless wretches were butchered as they grovelled on the ground and shrieked for mercy.

Those left on the platform now got an inspiration. They had killed the Babu in charge, but there would be others. Fired with this idea, they rushed into the station master's office. n.o.body! Into an inner room.

Still n.o.body. They were about to turn and leave, when one, more knowing than the rest, noticed that a large chest was standing rather far out from the wall, and that a shower of dust was still falling from the top of it. He looked behind. Just as he suspected. A man was crouching there, and now quickly they hauled him forth. It was the Eurasian telegraph and ticket clerk, who had hoped to hide away and escape. His yellow face was pale with terror, and he shook in every limb at the sight of those fierce faces and blood dripping tulwars. One of the latter was about to descend upon his head, when somebody in authority intervened, and the murderous blade was lowered.

"The money--where is it?" said this man in Hindustani. "Give us over the rupees."

"You shall have them, Sirdar sahib. Don't let them kill me!" he pleaded, frantic with fear. Then he began fumbling for the safe keys.

In his terror he could not find them.

"Hurry up, thou son of a pig and a dog!" urged the one who seemed to be the leader; "else will I have thee slain inch by inch, not all at once."

The wretched Eurasian went nearly mad with fear at this threat, but just then, by good luck, he found the keys. His hand, however, shook so much he could hardly open the safe. When he did so, it was found to contain less than they had expected.

"Where is the remainder, thou son of Shaitan? Quick, lest we flay thee alive, or broil thee on red-hot coals," growled the leader.

Frantic with fear, the miserable wretch fumbled wildly everywhere. A few loose rupees, and a bag or two containing no great sum were found, but no more.

"And is that all, food for the Evil One? Is that all?"

"Quite all, Sirdar sahib."

"Good." And, with the word, the barbarian raised his rifle and shot the other dead.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

HARD TERMS.

Meanwhile those in the waiting room were doing all they could to make good their position, and that was not much. Their first attempt at forcing an entrance having failed, the four Marris had rushed among their countrymen who had firearms, striving to bring them against the door in force, or rake the room with a volley through the window, but their attention at the time was taken up with other matters, which afforded the beleaguered ones a brief respite.

"Non-combatants up here," said Campian, pointing to the ladder and the trap door which has been mentioned. "Isn't that the order, Colonel?"

"Yes, certainly. Up you go, Vivien."

But Vivien refused to stir.

"I can do something at close quarters, too," she said, drawing her revolver.

"Give it to me. I've not got mine with me. Now--go upstairs."

"I may be of use here. Here's the pistol, though," handing it over.

"Will you obey orders, Viv? What sort of a soldier's niece are you?"

"Do go," said Campian, looking at her. "Well, I will, then."

As she ascended the iron ladder Campian followed her up, under pretext of aiding her. In reality he managed so he should serve to screen her from any shot that might be fired, for the ladder was in full view of the window.

"I know why you came up behind me," she whispered as she gained the loft. "It was to shield me in case they fired."

Then, before he had time to begin his descent, she bent her head and kissed him, full on the lips.

Not a word did he speak as he went down that ladder again. The blood thrilled and tingled through his frame. Not all the fury of fanaticism which spurred the Ghazis on to mania could surpa.s.s the exaltation of fearlessness which was upon him as he tried to treasure up the warm sweetness of that kiss--and after five years!

"Campian, confound it! We have only a dozen shots among us," growled the Colonel. "What an a.s.s I am to go about without a pistol."

"We can do a lot with a dozen shots. And Der' Ali has his tulwar."

Der' Ali was the Colonel's bearer, who had been within at the time of the onslaught. He had been a trooper in his master's old regiment, and they had seen service together on more than one occasion. What had become of the two syces and the forest guard, who were outside, they did not then know, for then the whole volume of the savage fanatics came surging up to the door. In their frenzy they fired wild shots at the solid iron plates.

"Tell them, Der' Ali," growled Colonel Jermyn, in Hindustani, "that they had better clear out and leave us alone. The _Sirkar_ will hang every man Jack of their tribe if they interfere with us. And the first man in here we'll shoot dead; and the rest of them to follow."

The bearer, who understood Baluchi well, rendered this, not minimising the resource and resolution of those within as he did so. A wild yell greeted his words. Then one, more frenzied or enterprising than the rest, pushed his rifle through the window, and the smashing of gla.s.s mingled with the report as he blazed into the room. But those within were up to that move. The window being on a line with the door, they had only to flatten themselves against the wall, and the bullet smashed harmless.

Then there was a rush on the window. Two men crashed through, badly cut by the gla.s.s. Before they could recover themselves they were shot dead.

Even Campian's wretched stores revolver did its work on this occasion.

That halted the rest--for the moment.

Only for the moment. By a rapid movement, crawling beneath the level of the window sill, several managed to discharge their rifles well into the room. Narrowly the bullets missed the defenders.

"Look here. This is getting hot," growled the Colonel. "Let's give them one more volley and go into the loft. There one of us can hold the place for ever against the crowd."

Campian had his doubts about the strategical wisdom of this. However, just then there was another rush through the window, and this time his revolver jammed. Outside were thirty furious Ghazis, urging each other on with wild fanatical yells. If they two were cut down what of Vivien?

That decided him. She could hold that trap door against the crowd.

"All right, Colonel. Up you go. I and Der' Ali will hold the window."

"You and Der' Ali be d.a.m.ned," growled the staunch old veteran. "Obey orders, sir."

"No, no. You forget I'm only a civilian, and not under orders. And-- you must be with Vivien."

No time was this for conventionalities, but even then the old man remembered the evening of the earthquake. "Well, I'll cover your retreat from the ladder," he said, and up he went.

Campian, by a wrench, brought the cylinder of his weapon round. Then, sighting the head of a Ghazi thrust prominently forward, he let go. It was a miss, but a near one. Under cover of it both he and the bearer gained the loft. A strange silence reigned. The a.s.sailants seemed to have drawn off.

It was a breathing s.p.a.ce, and surely these needed it. The excitement and energetic action brought a relapse. So sudden was the change from a quiet ordinary leave taking to this h.e.l.l of combat and bloodshed, that it told upon the nerves more than upon the physical resources. Then, too, they could sum up their position. Here they were beyond all possibility of relief. It was only three o'clock in the afternoon. No train would be due at Mehriab until eleven the next morning. Meanwhile these bloodthirsty barbarians would stick at nothing to reach their victims. These were cut off from human aid as entirely, to all intents and purposes, as though thousands of miles within the interior of Africa instead of in the heart of a theoretically peaceful country, over which waved the British flag.

"If only the telegraph clerk had been able to send a wire," said the Colonel. "But even if the poor devil wasn't cut down at the start, he'd have been in too big a scare to be able to put his dots and dashes together."

Suddenly, with an appalling clatter, two or three logs were hurled through the window on to the floor of the waiting room below. Then some more, followed by a splash of liquid and a tin can. But the throwers did not show.

"By the Lord, they are going to try burning us out," said Campian, in a low tone, watching the while for an enemy to show himself.