The Haunting of Low Fennel Part 7

IV

Dawn saw the dreadful march resumed. Major Fayne now exhibited unmistakable traces of his course of heavy drinking. He brought up the rear as. .h.i.therto, and often tarried far behind where some peculiar formation of the path enabled him to study the country already traversed. He had altered the route of the march, and now they were leaving the Shan Hills upon the north-east and dipping down to a chasm-like valley through which ran a tributary of the Selween River.

Since the dry season was commenced the entire country beneath them showed through a haze of heat and dust.

They had partaken of a crude and hasty breakfast as strangers having nothing in common who by chance share a table. Moreen no longer doubted that her husband was mad, for he muttered to himself and was ever glancing over his shoulder. This and his constant watching of the path behind spoke of some secret terror from which he fled.

Towards noon, they skirted a village whose inhabitants poured forth _en bloc_ to watch the pa.s.sing of this unfamiliar company. A faint hope that some European might be there died in Moreen's breast. Her position was a dreadful one. Led by a madman--of this she was persuaded--and surrounded by natives who, if not actively hostile, were certainly unfriendly, with but one man to whom she could look for the slightest aid, she was proceeding further and further from civilisation into unknown wildernesses.

What her husband's purpose might be she could not conceive. She was unable to think calmly, unable to formulate any plan. In the dull misery of a sick dream she rode forward speculating upon the awakening.

The midday heat in the valley was so great that a halt became imperative. They camped at the edge of a dense jungle where banks of rotten vegetation, sun-dried upon the top, lay heaped about the bamboo stems. None but a madman would have chosen to tarry in such a spot; and Major Fayne's servants went about their work with many a furtive glance at their master. Ramsa Lal's velvety eyes showed a great compa.s.sion, but Moreen offered no protest. She was in an unreal frame of mind and her will was merely capable of a mute indifference: any attempt to a.s.sert herself would have meant a sudden breakdown. Something in her brain was strained to utmost tension; any further effort must have snapped it.

In the hour of the greatest heat Major Fayne went out alone, offering no explanation of his intentions and leaving no word as to the time of his return. Moreen only learnt of his departure from Ramsa Lal. She received the news with indifference and asked no questions. Inert she lay in the little tent looking out at the wall of jungle, where it uprose but twenty yards away. So the day wore on. Mechanically she partook of food when Ramsa Lal placed it before her, but, although the man's att.i.tude palpably was one of uneasiness, she did not question him, and he departed in silence. It was an incredible situation.

Throughout the afternoon nothing occurred to break this dread monotony save that once there arose a buzz of conversation, and she became dimly aware that some one from the native village which they had pa.s.sed in the morning had come into the camp. After a time the sounds had died away again, and Ramsa Lal had stepped into view, looking towards her interrogatively; but although she recognized his wish to speak to her, the inertia which now claimed her mind and body prevailed, and she offered him no encouragement to intrude upon her misery.

Thus the weary hours pa.s.sed, until even to the dulled perceptions of Moreen the sounds of unrest and uneasiness pervading the camp began to penetrate. Yet Major Fayne did not return. The insect and reptile life of a Burmese jungle moved around her, but she was curiously indifferent to everything. Without alarm she brushed a venomous spider, fully one inch in girth, from the camp-bedstead, and dully watched it darting away into the jungle undergrowth.

Darkness swept down and tropical night things raised their mingled voices; then came Ramsa Lal.

"Forgive me, Mem Sahib," he said, "but I must speak to you."

She half reclined, looking at him as he stood, a dimly seen figure, before her.

"The men from the village," continued he, "come to say that we may not camp. It is holy ground from this place away"--he waved his arm vaguely--"to the end of the jungle where the river is."

"I can do nothing, Ramsa Lal."

"I fear--for him."

"Major Fayne?"

"He goes into the jungle to look for something. What does he go to look for? Why does he not return?"

Moreen made no reply.

"All of them there"--he indicated the direction of the native servants--"know this place. They are already afraid, and, with those from the village coming to warn us, they get more afraid still. This is a haunted place, Mem Sahib."

Moreen sat up, shaking off something of the la.s.situde which possessed her.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"In that jungle," replied Ramsa Lal, "there is buried a temple, a very old temple, and in the temple there is buried one who was a holy man.

His spirit watches over this place, and none may rest here because of him----"

"But the men of the village came here," said Moreen.

"Before sunset, Mem Sahib. No man would come here after dark. Look! you will see--they are frightened."

Languidly, but with some awakening to the necessities of the situation, Moreen stepped out of the tent and looked across to where, about a great fire, the retinue huddled in a circle. Ramsa Lal stood beside her with something contemptuous in the bearing of his tall figure.

"A spell lies upon all this valley, Mem Sahib," he said. "Therefore it is called the Valley of the Just."

"Why?"

"Because only the just can stay within its bounds through the night."

Moreen stared affrightedly.

"Do you mean that they die in the night, Ramsa Lal?"

"In the night, Mem Sahib, before the dawn."

"By what means?"

Ramsa Lal spread his palms eloquently.

"Who knows?" he replied. "It is a haunted place."

"And are you afraid?"

"I am not afraid, for I have pa.s.sed a night in the Valley of the Just many years ago, and I live."

"You were alone?"

"With two others, Mem Sahib."

"And the others?"

"One was bitten by a snake an hour before dawn, and the other, who was an upright man, lives to-day."

Moreen shuddered.

"Do you know"--she still hesitated to broach this subject with the man--"do you know where--Major Fayne has gone?"

"It is said, Mem Sahib, that a stream runs through the jungle close beside the old temple, a stream which bubbles up from a cavern and which is supposed to come underground from the Ruby Mine plateau. He goes early in the morning to look for rubies--so I think."

Moreen tapped the ground with her foot.

"Do you think"--again she hesitated--"that Major Fayne is afraid of something? Of something--where we have come from?"

Ramsa Lal bowed low.

"I cannot tell," he replied, "but we shall know ere sunrise."

For a moment Moreen scarcely grasped the significance of his words; then their inner meaning became apparent to her.

"Make me some coffee, Ramsa Lal," she said; "I am cold--very cold."