The Star of India
Copyright© 2026 by Edward S. Ellis
Chapter 30: The Last Resort.
Marian Hildreth committed a serious mistake in not making known the strange occurrence of the night before. Had she told of it, the history of the succeeding few days would have been wholly changed.
But the rest remained in ignorance, and the young lady herself never dreamed of the true explanation.
The morning brought the awful shock of the death of George Harkins. Father, mother and daughter wept and mourned him deeply, for he had endeared himself to all by his nobility of nature.
“We will bury him,” said Dr. Avery, when all were present, excepting Luchman, who remained at his post.
“How can that be done?” asked the missionary.
“We will carry him in there,” replied Avery, pointing to the smaller apartment, occupied by Marian and her mother the night before. “What more fitting tomb can be given to him? It was here he fell while defending us, and here we will make his sepulcher. In a temple consecrated to idolatry we place the body of a Christian, which will give a sanctity to this infernal pile of stones that they never could have possessed otherwise.”
Accordingly it was so done. The stiffened form was borne within the smaller chamber by the missionary and the surgeon, while the ladies, in the solemn twilight of the temple, looked on with moist eyes and swelling hearts.
It was laid tenderly upon the stone floor, and, kneeling at the head of the body, the missionary offered to Heaven a touching and pathetic prayer, while the faces of the rest were bent, and their hearts throbbed in unison with the fervent petition of the good man.
Then they came forth and closed the door, which they hoped might remain sealed until opened by the angel’s trump on the resurrection morn.
The duty to the dead, so far as it was capable of fulfillment, had been done, and the living were confronted by the problem of their own safety. Luchman, when questioned, told them to eat all they wanted, if it took the last morsel of food, since the coming night was to be the last spent in the ruins.
The native gave no explanation, but was so positive that the others acted upon his counsel. None was particularly hungry, though all partook, and the portion sent out to the guide was all that was left.
There was less need of food than of water. Only a little was drank by each, but it drained the lota, and their thirst was aggravated rather than satisfied.
Another long, hot, seemingly endless day broke upon them. The flaming sun rose once more in the brassy sky, its rays glowing with a fervor that made all nature gasp and pant.
Looking out from their refuge, the Ghoojurs were seen in the distance, beyond rifle shot, but still vigilant Luchman went out of the temple and climbed to the most elevated portion of the ruins, so as to gain the best view. He spent some time among the limbs of the twisted trees, and carefully scrutinized every part of the landscape.
On the one hand was the grove, and beyond that the jungle. In the shade of the former, Wana Affghar and most of his ruffians were waiting, while in the opposite direction, and distant only a couple of hundred yards, was the gleam of a broad but muddy stream. Trees were growing on its banks, and the current was seen only at intervals through the interstices of the vegetation.
Had any one watched the brown countenance of the native he would have noted that his gaze was fixed for a long time in the direction of the stream. It was apparent that he felt that if any possible hope remained to the fugitives it was there. The river was more friendly than the jungle.
Such had been the belief of the guide during the preceding evening, and he had made an effort, unknown to Avery, to extend his reconnaissance to the water, but the Ghoojurs were there, as he feared. They could not have failed to note how tempting it would be to the fugitives, and they took care to guard it well.
No doubt they were still doing so, crouching among the tall grass along the bank, and at the base of the overhanging trees, their black eyes turned eagerly in the direction of the ruined temple, anxious that the hated Feringhees should venture within their reach.
Luchman was convinced of another fact: if Wana Affghar had received any re-enforcements, they did not number more than one half his original force.
This was strange, since it would seem to have been impossible to prevent the spreading of the news that a party of Europeans were shut up in the old temple, thus bringing a continually increasing swarm to the spot; but in some way or other, as Luchman believed, the brigand chieftain had kept his secret, and the situation was the same now as at the beginning.
Across the dark countenance passed an expression that told of bitter hopelessness and desperation, as he slowly made his way down from his perch and joined his friends below.
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