The H. Bedford-Jones Pulp Fiction Megapack. H. Bedford-Jones
her tree-shelter, listened.
“Now,” I went on, “we can’t murder these fellows, Yu. Suppose you take ’em out there fairly close to the gorge, and tie ’em up good and hard, each to a separate tree. Not close enough so that they can shout across, but just so O’Grady can see them from the other side. You might gag them to make sure. Then he’ll send one of his three men back to release them, and go on to Kiuling with the other two Japs. Eh?”
“Excellent, master!” approved Yu, much to my satisfaction. “Will Miss French go with us, then?”
I nodded and returned to her. She eyed me smilingly.
“That boy of yours speaks very good English, Mr. Breck!”
“Mission trained, I presume,” was my reply. “Since you have a fire going, we’ll stop and make some tea and get a meal. I don’t know very much about surgery, but I can make your brother comfortable until O’Grady gets there—and he’ll do the rest.”
“Poor Mr. O’Grady!” she said, her lips twitching. “He’s really very nice!”
“He’s straight enough, and a square enemy,” I admitted. “Well, I’ll see about the tea while Yu is attending to those chaps.”
I got to work and made some tea, stiffening it from my brandy flask. While doing this, an idea came to me, and I summoned Yu. Inquiring from him, I discovered that the narrow portion of the gorge of which he had heard was no more than eight feet wide. So, vastly encouraged, I told him to get the mules saddled and we would try to get them over.
Ten minutes afterward, warmed and heartened by the food and hot drink, we rode off among the trees to the right, taking with us the hand-axes of the two hapless Japs.
What followed, in view of our gloomy forecast, was absurdly easy. We found the narrow place without trouble. Yu and I felled three small trees and trimmed them, and laid them across the opening. Over these, the mountain-trained mules picked their way without a speck of protest, their delicate little hooves guiding them surely. Then, mounting, we headed back for the main trail and Kiuling.
The game was won.
As we rode, I talked with Janet French, and not only imparted information, but learned many things. It appeared that, some months previously, Kohler had written her brother in regard to the lacquer formula on which he was then working. French had agreed to sell Kohler the secret, but since then all communication had been broken off—due, of course, to the activity of the Japs and the Dubonnet company, Kohler had not been able to buy in the Fuchow lacquer factories without much opposition, and in that fight, the chemist away off in the hills had been rather lost to sight.
The Frenches had gone broke; I conjectured as much from little things the girl said, as well as from a remark that O’Grady had previously made. I could see, too, how she had nursed and cared for her brother, helping him with his work, keeping the ménage running smoothly, making their little money go as far as it would. Gradually his health had come back to him, and every day they had hoped that a message would come from Kohler. None had come. Letters sent down to the river had been unanswered.
So at last they prepared to leave Kiuling, borrowing what they could from native merchants. And, during the preparations, French got in the way of a fractious mule. It must have seemed like a final blow from evil fates. Getting her brother into bed, Janet had taken two of their mafus, and started in desperation to find someone who could attend to the injured man.
We fell to talking again of O’Grady, and it was then that Yu intervened quietly, during a lull in our conversation.
“Master,” he said, “we can take care of O’Grady, I think. But be careful! That man Schneider will be dangerous. He will have native guides. He will know of that crossing by which we came. He will know we are ahead of him. Do not forget Schneider, master!”
I nodded, and smiled at Janet French.
“All right, Yu! I’ll bear him in mind. Hello! Looks like the rain is clearing off, eh? There’s a touch of sunlight on the hills ahead.”
The girl lifted her hand and pointed, eagerly.
“And there’s Kiuling, there on the hillside.”
VII
Kiuling was nothing but a straggling cluster of houses, barely a village, ranged along a bare hill-slope. It was gloriously situated, however, with a view of fifty miles across the hills; the rain had quite cleared off by the time we reached the place, and the air was like wine in the blood. No wonder French had won back health in such atmosphere!
There were few people in the place; our advent was scarcely noticed. The Frenches occupied a formerly ruinous old shrine of the mountain-god, a few hundred yards this side of the town itself. Two apathetic servants met us in the courtyard. A tiger had carried off a woman during the night, and the whole town was gone on the hunt, it appeared.
Having instructed Yu to dispose of the mules and remove all signs of our arrival, I accompanied Miss Janet into the main building. One of the usual partitions was in place, dividing the room into two. French lay here, propped up on pillows, and greeted us with a wan smile. He had suffered frightfully, and had been tremendously worried about his sister. His eyes lighted up when Janet introduced me.
“Glad to meet you, Breck. From Kohler, eh? Well, that can wait. Good thing you met Janey—sis, what made you run off that way? I got all fixed up last night. Had those boys come in and set the fracture. It’s the shoulder-blade. They made a rotten job of binding it up, though. D’you suppose you could get me a bite to eat? Haven’t had a thing, and I’m famished—”
With an exclamation, Janet disappeared. French asked for his pipe, which I found and filled. Then he gave me an appraising glance, and spoke.
“Breck, I’ve had hell here all night. I’m about done in, what with worrying over Janey and the hurt of this cursed shoulder. Can you get me into splints or something to ease it?”
“I don’t know enough about it,” I told him frankly. “But O’Grady will be along in an hour or so and he can do the job right. Better wait for him.”
“Who’s O’Grady?”
I told him the story, in few words, and finished by the time Janet appeared with broth and food. Then, taking charge of French, I sent her into the adjoining room behind the partition to get some sleep; almost forced her to go, in fact. She had held up nobly, but she badly needed rest.
The same was true of French. I changed his blankets and pajamas, and he immediately dropped off into a sleep of exhaustion. The poor chap must have been on a tremendous strain through the night, what with the tiger-alarm in the village and the storm, and knowing that Janet had only two men with her. Those two, by the way, had never returned.
Finding the two servants dismissed and Yu in charge of the courtyard, I went across to a smaller building and inspected it. This proved to be French’s workshop and laboratory. As French had packed up everything in preparation for his trip out, the place was fairly well cleaned, and I got it straightened up to use as my abode. French could not travel for some little time, so that I would stay here temporarily.
The day had cleared off in fine shape. Joining Yu, at the entrance, I sat smoking for a while, feeling no particular need of sleep, and enjoying in anticipation what was going to take place. We had secured a pair of field-glasses from French’s equipment, and passed an hour in idle pleasure of relaxation. A party of native hunters had returned to the village, gongs beating and horns blowing, and I was watching them when Yu, who had the glasses, touched my arm. He was smiling.
“Just as you thought, master! O’Grady sent back one of his Japs to release those we bound to trees!”
“The glasses!” I seized them and focused on the back trail. There, half a mile distant, had appeared three mules; O’Grady and his two remaining Japs.
“You can’t stay here; he’d recognize you,” I told Yu. “Come into the main building with me, and we’ll both catch him. He’ll leave his