The Flower of Forgiveness. Flora Annie Webster Steel
Nag, though the sun shone brilliantly on its cliffs and glaciers. I think it must have been the irresponsiveness of the lake itself which deadened its beauties, for the water, surcharged with gypsum, lay in pale green stretches, refusing a single reflection of the hills which held it so carefully.
"The next march was awful; and in more than one place, half hidden by the flowers forcing their way through the snow, lay the corpses of pilgrims who had succumbed to the cold and the exposure.
"'Pneumonia in five out of six cases,' remarked Taylor casually. 'If it were not for the churrus (concoction of hemp) they drink, the mortality would be fearful. I wonder what Exeter Hall would say to getting drunk for purposes of devotion?'
"At Punjtârni we met the returning pilgrims; among others Victor, very sick and sorry for himself physically, but of intolerable moral strength. He told us, between the intervals of petitions for pills and potions, that the remaining fourteen miles to the Cave were unusually difficult, and had been singularly fatal that year. On hearing this, Taylor, knowing my dislike to horrors, proposed taking a path across the hills instead of keeping to the orthodox route. Owing to scarcity of water and fuel, the servants and tents could only go some five miles farther along the ravine, so this suggestion would involve no change of plan. He added that there would also be a greater chance of finding 'that blessed anemone.' I don't think I ever saw so much drunkenness or so much devotion as I saw that evening at Punjtârni. It was hard indeed to tell where the one began and the other ended; for excitement, danger, and privation lent their aid to drugs, and a sense of relief to both. The very cliffs and glaciers resounded with enthusiasm, and I saw Sukya and Premi taking their part with the rest as if nothing had happened.
"Taylor and I started alone next morning. We were to make a long round in search of the Flower of Forgiveness, and come back upon the Cave towards afternoon. The path, if path it could be called, was fearful. Taylor, however, was untiring, and at the slightest hint of hope would strike off up the most break-neck places, leaving me to rejoin him as best I could. Yet not a trace did we find of the anemone. Taylor grew fretful, and when we reached the snow slope leading to the Cave, he declared it would be sheer waste of time for him to go up.
"'Get rid of your sins, if you want to, by all means,' he said; 'I've seen photographs of the place, and it's a wretched imposture even as a spectacle. You have only to keep up the snow for a mile and turn to the left. You'll find me somewhere about these cliffs on your return; and don't be long, for the going before us is difficult.' So I left him poking into every crack and cranny.
"I could scarcely make up my mind if I was impressed or disappointed with the Cave. Its extreme insignificance was, it is true, almost ludicrous. Save for a patch of red paint and a shockingly bad attempt at a stone image of Siva's bull, there was nothing to distinguish this hollow in the rock from a thousand similar ones all over the Himalayas. But this very insignificance gave mystery to the fact that hundreds of thousands of the conscience-stricken had found consolation here. 'What went ye out into the wilderness to see?' As I stood for an instant at the entrance before retracing my steps, I could not but think that here was a wilderness indeed--a wilderness of treacherous snow and icebound rivers, peaked and piled up tumultuously like frozen waves against the darkening sky. The memory of Taylor's warning not to be late made me try what seemed a shorter and easier path than the one by which I had come; but ere long the usual difficulties of short cuts cropped up, and I had eventually to limp back to the slope with a badly cut ankle, which bled profusely despite my rough efforts at bandaging. The loss of blood was sufficient to make me feel quite sick and faint, so that it startled me to come suddenly on Taylor sooner than I expected. He was half kneeling, half sitting on the snow; his coat was off, and his face bent over something propped against his arm.
"'It's that boy,' he said shortly, as I came up. 'I found him just after you left, lying here--to rest, he says. It seems he has been making his way to the Cave ever since that day, without bite or sup, by the hills,--God knows how,--to avoid being turned back by the others. And now he is dying, and there's an end of it.'
"'The boy--not Amra!' I cried, bending in my turn.
"Sure enough, on Taylor's arm, with Taylor's coat over his wasted body, lay the young disciple. His great, luminous eyes looked out of a face whence even death could not drive the beauty, and his breath came in laboured gasps.
"'Brandy! I have some here,' I suggested in hot haste, moved to the idiotic suggestion by that horror of standing helpless which besets us all in presence of the Destroyer.
"Taylor looked at the boy with a grave smile and shook his head. 'To begin with, he wouldn't touch it; besides, he is past all that sort of thing. No one could help him now.' He paused, shifting the weight a little on his arm.
"'The Presence will grow tired holding me,' gasped the young voice feebly. 'If the sahib will put a stone under my head and cover me with some snow, I will be able to crawl on by and by when I am rested. For it is close--quite close.'
"'Very close,' muttered the doctor under his breath. Suddenly he looked up at me, saying in a half-apologetic way, 'I was wondering if you and I couldn't get him up there--to Amar-nâth I mean. Life has been hard on him; he deserves an easy death.'
"'Of course we can,' I cried in a rush of content at the suggestion, as I hobbled round to get to the other side, and so help the lad to his legs.
"'Hollo,' asked Taylor, with a quick professional glance, 'what have you done to your ankle? Sit down and let me overhaul it.'
"In vain I made light of it, in vain I appealed to him. He peremptorily forbade my stirring for another hour, asserting that I had injured a small artery, and without caution might find difficulty in reaching the tents, as it would be impossible for him to help me much on the sort of ground over which we had to travel.
"'But the boy, Taylor!--the boy!' I pleaded. 'It would be awful to leave him here.'
"'Who said he was to be left?' retorted the doctor crossly. 'I'm going to carry him up as soon as I've finished bandaging your leg. Don't be in such a blessed hurry.'
"'Carry him! You can't do it up that slope, strong as you are, Taylor--I know you can't.'
"'Can't?' he echoed, as he stood up from his labours. 'Look at him and say can't again--if you can.'
"I looked and saw that the boy, but half conscious, yet restored to the memory of his object by the touch of the snow on which Taylor had laid him while engaged in bandaging my foot, had raised himself painfully on his hands and knees, and was struggling upwards, blindly, doggedly.
"'Damn it all,' continued the doctor fiercely, 'isn't that sight enough to haunt a man if he doesn't try? Besides, I may find that precious flower,--who knows?'
"As he spoke he stooped with the gentleness, not so much of sympathy, as of long practice in suffering, over the figure which, exhausted by its brief effort, already lay prostrate on the snow.
"'What is--the Presence--going--to do?' moaned Amra doubtfully, as he felt the strong arms close round him.
"'You and I are going to find the remission of sins together at Amar-nâth,' replied the Presence with a bitter laugh.
"The boy's head fell back on the doctor's shoulder as if accustomed to the resting-place. 'Amar-nâth!' he murmured. 'Yes! I am Amar-nâth.'
"So I sat there helpless, and watched them up the slope. Every slip, every stumble, seemed as if it were my own. I clenched my hands and set my teeth as if I too had part in the supreme effort, and when the straining figure passed out of sight I hid my face and tried not to think. It was the longest hour I ever spent before Taylor's voice holloing from the cliff above roused me to the certainty of success.
"'And the boy?' I asked eagerly.
"'Dead by this time, I expect,' replied the doctor shortly. 'Come on,--there's a good fellow,--we haven't a moment to lose. I must look again for the flower to-morrow.'
"But letters awaiting our return to camp recalled him to duty on account of cholera in the regiment; so there was an end of anemone hunting. The 101st suffered terribly, and Taylor