With the assistance of the shepherd Kathlyn went down the rope agilely
and safely. Once firmly on her feet, she turned to thank the wild-eyed
hillman. But her best Hindustani (and she was able to speak and
understand quite a little by now) fell on ears which heard but did not
sense what she said. The man, mild and harmless enough, for all his
wild eyes, shrank back, for no woman of his kind had ever looked like
this. Kathlyn, with a deal of foreboding, repeated the phrase, and
asked the way back to the hunter's rest house. He shook his head; he
understood nothing.
But there is one language which is universal the world over, and this
is sign language. Kathlyn quickly stooped and drew in the dust the
shape of the rest house. Then she pointed in the direction from whence
she had come. He smiled and nodded excitedly. He understood now.
Next, being unarmed, she felt the need of some sort of weapon. So she
drew the shape of a rifle in the dust, then produced four rupees, all
she had. The shepherd gurgled delightedly, ran into the hut, and
returned with a rifle of modern make and a belt of cartridges. With a
gesture he signified that it was useless to him because he did not know
how to use it.
He took the rupees and Kathlyn took the rifle, vaguely wondering how it
came into the possession of this poverty-stricken hillman. Of one
thing she was certain; it had become his either through violence of his
own or of others. She examined the breech and found a dead shell,
which she cast out. The rifle carried six cartridges, and she loaded
skillfully, much to the astonishment of the hillman. Then she swung
the butt to her shoulder and fired up at the ledge where the panthers
had last been seen.
The hillman cried out in alarm and scuttled away to his hut. When he
peered forth again Kathlyn made a friendly gesture, and he approached
timidly. Once more she pointed to the dust, at the picture of the rest
house; and then, by many stabs of his finger in the air, he succeeded
in making the way back sufficiently clear to Kathlyn, who smiled,
shouldered the rifle and strode confidently down the winding path; but
also she was alert and watchful.
There was not a bit of rust on the rifle, and the fact that one bullet
had sped smoothly convinced her that the weapon was serviceable. Some
careful hunter had once possessed it, for it was abundantly oiled. To
whom had it belonged? It was of German make; but that signified
nothing. It might have belonged to an Englishman, a Frenchman, or a
Russian; more likely the latter, since this was one of the localities
where they crossed and recrossed with their note-books to be utilized
against that day when the Bear dropped down from the north and tackled
the Lion.