Chapter 39 | Yussuf Has His Wits About Him | Yussuf the Guide

The weather was cold up there in the mountains, and it froze at night; but the sun was hot in the daytime, and the sky was mostly of a most delicious blue. The chief always seemed to be scowling, watchful, and suspicious, but the prisoners had nothing but their captivity to complain about. Rugs in abundance—every one of them stolen—were supplied for bedding and keeping out the cold night air that would have penetrated by door or window. Upon proper representations being made by Yussuf the food supply was better, the guide installing himself at once as cook, to Mr Chumley’s great delight; and agreeable dishes—pilaf, curry, kabobs, and the like—were prepared, with excellent coffee and good bread, while the scowling sentries became more agreeable, and took willingly to their duties, on finding that satisfactory snacks were handed to them, and hot cups of coffee on the bitter nights when they sat watching in their sheepskin or goatskin cloaks.

As for the professor, in two days he had forgotten that he was a prisoner, and Lawrence was the best of friends with the evil-looking guards, who followed them with loaded guns to some old ruinous patch of wall, fortification, or hall. Here the professor was in his element, drawing, planning, and measuring, longing the while to set a dozen strong-armed men to work digging up the stones embedded in the earth—a task which he was sure would be rewarded by the discovery of many objects of antiquity.

Parties of the brigands went out now and then, but it was evident that their object was merely to forage, large quantities of barley being brought in, and some of the old buildings being utilised for stores.

These seemed to be well supplied, and the community was preparing for the coming winter, so Yussuf told Lawrence—for the days when no food would be obtainable perhaps for months.

Everyone seemed to lead a careless nonchalant life, the prisoners they had taken would, no doubt it was considered, bring in sufficient to make this a prosperous year’s work, and till the ransoms were paid there was little more to do.

The days glided by, and the watch over the prisoners grew less rigid. There was apparently only one way out of the stronghold, and that was always carefully guarded; and as it was evident to the captors that the professor and his companions were bent upon studying the place, the guards used to sit down upon some heap of old stones, with their guns across their knees, and smoke and sleep, while drawings were made, and inscriptions copied.

Yussuf became quite a favourite, for he was a cook, and often showed the brigands’ wives how to make some savoury dish; but for the most part he was busy helping the professor, carrying his paper, cleaning stones, or performing some such office.

And so the days glided by, with the professor perfectly contented, the old lawyer apparently little troubled so long as his snuff held out, and Lawrence growing sturdier, and enjoying the feeling of health more and more.

The only discontented people were the Chumleys, the gentleman complaining bitterly about the absence of news, and the lady because her husband would chatter so incessantly.

“I say, Yussuf,” said Lawrence one night as he sat talking to the guide, “they won’t cut off our heads, will they?”

Yussuf shook his head.

“I have only one dread,” he replied; “and that is of an attempt being made to rescue us.”

“I don’t see anything to be afraid of there,” said Lawrence laughing.

“But I do,” said the Turk seriously. “If an attack were made, those people would become fierce like dogs or rats at bay, and then they might take our lives.”

“They would not without, then?”

“No,” said Yussuf; “they would threaten, and hold out for a heavy ransom, but if the friends that have been written to are clever, they will make the ransom small, and we shall be freed. But it may take a long time, for the brigands will hold out as long as they think there is a chance of getting a large sum. They are safe here; they have abundant stores, and nothing to do: they can afford to wait.”

“Well, I’m sure Mr Preston is in no hurry,” said Lawrence; “nobody is but the Chumleys.”

“And I,” said Yussuf smiling.

“You? why, I thought you were happy enough. You haven’t said a word lately about escaping.”

“No,” replied Yussuf smiling; “but sometimes those who are so quiet do a great deal. I am afraid of the winter coming with its snow and shutting us in for months when we could not escape, for, even if the snow would let us pass, we should perish in the cold. I have been hard at work.”

“You have, Yussuf? What have you been doing? Oh, I know; making plans.”

“And ropes,” said Yussuf gravely.

“Ropes? I have seen you make no ropes.”

“No, because you were asleep. Wait a moment.”

He rose quietly and walked to the entrance, drawing the rug that hung there aside and peering out, to come back as softly as he left his seat, and glancing at where the professor, wearied out with a hard day’s work, was, like his companions by the fire, fast asleep.

“The guards are smoking out there, and are safe,” said Yussuf. “See here, Lawrence effendi, but do not say a word to a soul.”

“I shall not speak,” said Lawrence.

Yussuf gave another glance at the Chumleys, and then stepped to a corner of the great hall-like place which formed their prison, drew aside a rug on the floor, lifted a slab of stone, and pointed to a coil of worsted rope as thick as a good walking-stick, and evidently of great length.

It was only a few moments’ glance, and then the stone was lowered, the dust swept over it, and the rug drawn across again.

“You see I am getting ready,” said Yussuf.

“But what are we going to do?”

“I have been watching and waiting,” whispered the guide, “and I have found a place where we can descend from the old wall over the great defile.”

“But it is so awful a place, Yussuf.”

“Yes, it is awful; but there is a ledge we can reach, and then creep along and get beyond the sentries. Then all will be easy, for we can get a long way some dark night before the alarm is given, and in the day we can hide. Of course we must load ourselves with the food we have saved up.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” said Lawrence thoughtfully; “but Mrs Chumley, she would not go down a rope.”

“Why, not?” said Yussuf quietly; “she talks like a man.”

“When are you going to try, then?” said Lawrence excitedly.

“In about ten days. I shall be ready then, and the nights will be dark. But, patience—you must not be excited.”

“But you will tell Mr Preston?”

“Yes; to-morrow night, when I have finished my first rope. Go to sleep now.”

“And you, Yussuf?”

“Oh, I am going to work,” he said smiling. “See, my material is here.”

He drew out a handful of worsted threads which were evidently part of a rug which he had unravelled, and as soon as Lawrence had lain down, the Turk walked to the darkest corner of the building, and Lawrence could just make out that he was busy over something, but he was perfectly silent.