第二部 第六章　剛德去偵察

PART TWO Chapter Six Ghond Goes Reconnoitring

About the first week of December, Ghond and Gay-Neck were to go on a reconnaissance trip all by themselves. The place they went to was a forest not far from Ypres, Armentieres and Hazebrouck. If you take a map of France and draw a line from Calais south almost in a straight line, you will come across a series of places where the British and Indian armies were situated. Near Armentieres there are many graves of Indian Mohammedan soldiers. There are no graves of Indian Hindu soldiers because the Hindus from time immemorial have cremated their dead, and those that are cremated occupy no grave. Their ashes are scattered to the winds, and no place is marked or burdened with their memory.

To return to Ghond and Gay-Neck. They were sent to a forest near Hazebrouck, which was behind the enemy's line, to find out the exact location of an enormous underground ammunition dump. If found, Ghond and the pigeon, singly or together, were to return to the British Army Headquarters with an exact map of the place. That was all. So one clear December morning, Gay-Neck was taken on an aeroplane. It flew about twenty miles over a forest, part of which was held by the Indian Army and the rest by the Germans. When they had gone beyond the German line, Gay-Neck was released. He flew all over the woods; then having gained some knowledge of the nature of the land, he flew back home. This was done to make sure that Gay-Neck knew his route and had some inkling of what was expected of him.

That afternoon when the sun had gone down, which happened at about four o'clock at this latitude ten degrees north of New York, Ghond, most warmly dressed, with Gay-Neck under his coat, started. They went on an ambulance as far as the second line of the Indian Army in the great forest. In utter darkness they proceeded to the front, conducted by some members of the Intelligence Service.

Soon they found themselves in what is called No Man's Land, but fortunately it was covered with trees, most of which had not yet been destroyed by shell-fire. Ghond, who did not know French or German and whose knowledge of English was confined to three words, "yes," "no" and "very well," was now left to find a German ammunition dump in a forest, accompanied only by a pigeon fast asleep under his coat.

First of all he had to remind himself that he was in a country of the cold Himalayan climate where, during the winter, trees stood bare and the ground was covered with dry autumn leaves and frost. Since there was very little foliage on tree or sapling, concealment of himself proved not an easy task. The night was dark, and as cold as a corpse, but since he could see in the dark better than any living man, and because his sense of smell was as keen as the keenest of all animals, he knew how to steer his course in No Man's Land. Fortunately, that night the wind was from the east.

Edging his way between tree-trunks, he pushed forward as fast as possible. His nose told him minutes before their arrival that a company of Germans was passing his way. Like a leopard he crawled up a tree, and waited. They never heard even the flicker of a sound. Had it been daylight they would have found him, for his bare feet bled as he walked on the frost-stricken ground, leaving distinct marks behind.

Once he had a very close shave. As he went up a tree and sat on a branch to let a couple of German sentries pass below him, he heard someone whisper from a branch into his ear. He knew at once that it was a German sharpshooter. But he bent his head, and listened. The German said, "Guten nacht," then stepped over and slid down the tree. No doubt he had taken Ghond for one of his fellow-soldiers who had come to relieve him. After a while Ghond descended to the ground and followed the footprint of that German. Dark though it was, his bare feet could feel where the ground had been worn down by the feet of man. No difficult task that, for him.

At last he reached a place where a lot of men were bivouacking. He had to skirt around them softly, still pressing forward. He heard a strange noise right at his feet. He stopped and listened. No mistake, this was a familiar sound! He waited. The steps of an animal: Patter pat, patter-r-r! Ghond moved towards the sound, and a suppressed growl ensued. Instead of fear, joy gripped his heart. He who had spent nights at a time in the tiger-infested jungles of India was not to be deterred by the growl of a wild dog. Soon enough two red eyes greeted his vision. Ghond sniffed the air before him carefully as he stood there, and lo! He could not detect there was the slightest odour of man about that dog; the creature had gone wild. The dog, too, was sniffing the air to find out what kind of being he was facing, for Ghond did not exude the usual human odour of fear, and so the animal came forward and rubbed against him and sniffed vigorously. Fortunately, Ghond carried Gay-Neck above the dog's nose, and the odour of the bird's presence was carried up by the wind, so the wild dog perceived in the man before him nothing but a friendly fearless fellow. He wagged his tail, and whined. Ghond, instead of patting his head with his hand, slowly put it before the dog's eyes to see and smell. A moment of suspense followed. Was the dog going to bite the hand? Another moment passed. Then… the dog licked it. He now whined with pleasure. Ghond said to himself: "So this hunter's dog is without a master. Probably his master is dead. The poor beast has become as wild as a wolf. He lives by preying on the food supply of the German Army, for it is evident he had not yet eaten any human flesh. So much the better."

Ghond whistled softly, the call of all hunters of all ages no matter in what country. It meant "Lead." And the dog led. He skirted all the bivouacs of the German soldiers as deftly as a stag slips by a tiger's den. After hours of wandering, they reached their destination. There was no mistake about it; Ghond had found the very depot not only of munitions but also of German food supplies. His leader, the wild dog, went through a secret hole in the ground, then after half an hour emerged with a large leg of veal between his jaws. That it was bovine meat Ghond could tell by its odour. The dog sat down to his dinner on the frosty ground, while the man put on his boots, which he had carried slung over his shoulder all night long, and then looked up and took observations. By the position of the stars he could tell where he was. He waited there some time.

Slowly the day began to break. He took a compass from his pocket. Yes, he felt quite sure that he could draw a map of the place. Just then the dog jumped up and grabbed Ghond's coat with his teeth. There was no doubt in the man's mind that the dog wanted to lead him on again. He ran ahead, and Ghond followed as fast. Soon they reached a spot so thickly covered with thorns and frozen vines that passage through it was possible only for an animal. The dog crawled under a lot of sharp thorns, and disappeared.

Now Ghond drew a diagram showing the position of the stars, and the exact position of this compass, and tied both to Gay-Neck's foot, and let him go. He watched the pigeon fly from tree to tree, resting on each for a minute or so, and preening his wings. Then he struck the message tied to his foot with his beak—probably he was making sure that it was securely tied—flew up to the top of the tallest tree, and sat there examining the lay of the land. That moment Ghond, who was looking up, felt something pull him. He looked down at his feet; the dog was dragging him to a hole under the thorns. Ghond bent low, low enough to follow his mentor's direction, but at that moment he heard the flutter of wings overhead, then the barking of rifles. He had no desire to get up and investigate whether Gay-Neck had been killed or not. He crawled down under the thorns till he felt as if his stomach were glued against his backbone, and both sewed tightly to the ground. He pushed and crawled till suddenly he slid down, falling about eight feet into a dark hole. It was pitch dark, but Ghond hardly noticed that at first, for he was occupied in rubbing his bruised head.

When finally he tried to discover where he was, he made out that he must be sitting on a frozen water-hole covered, like a thieves' den, by impenetrable thorn-bushes. Even in winter when no leaf clad the branches and vines overhead, the darkness in daytime was thick there. The dog was still with him, and had evidently dragged him there to safety. The poor beast was so happy to have a friend with him that he wanted to play by the hour with Ghond, but the latter, being sleepy, dozed off into perfect slumber in spite of the noise of the guns not very far away.

After about three hours the dog suddenly whined and then yelled as if he were stricken with madness, after which the earth rocked under terrific sounds of explosion. Unable to bear it, the animal kept tugging the sleeve of Ghond's coat. The detonations rose crescendo upon crescendo till the place where Ghond lay literally swayed like a cradle, but he would not leave his hiding. All he said to himself was: "O Gay-Neck, thou incomparable bird, how well thou hast done thy task! Already thou hast borne the message to the cherry-faced chief, and this is his thunderous reply. O thou pearl among winged creatures!" So on he mumbled while the bombs dropped by aeroplanes ignited the German munitions dump.

Then the dog, who had been trying to pull him away by the sleeve of his coat, whined and shivered like one in high fever, and that instant something sizzled through the air and fell near by with a thud. With a desperate yell the poor dog dashed out of his hiding place. Ghond followed. But too late. For hardly had he crept half way under the thorns when an ear-splitting explosion seemed to cut the ground from under him, and a violent pain pierced his shoulder. He felt borne up by some demoniac power and flung to the ground with great force. Scarlet diamonds of light danced before his eyes for a few moments, followed by quenching darkness.

An hour later when he regained consciousness the first thing that he became aware of was a sound of Hindustani voices. In order to hear his native language more distinctly, he tried to raise his head. That instant he felt a shooting pain like the sting of a thousand cobras. There was no doubt in his mind now that he had been hit and probably mortally wounded. All the same his soul rejoiced every time he heard Hindustani spoken near him, for that meant that Indian troops, and not the enemy, were in possession of the forest now. "Ah," he said to himself, "my task is accomplished. I can die in peace."