Path of the Tiger, стр. 428

‘Do you have your Winchester with you, Gisborne?’ Bingham asked as he heard William approaching through the dense foliage. ‘We are … vulnerable … out here, away from the group,’ he continued, speaking in a low voice. ‘There is great danger in these forests.’

William held out his Winchester rifle before him as he pushed through the bushes, showing Bingham that he was armed. Bingham, who himself was armed with two revolvers, one holstered on each hip, nodded sombrely. He then turned and started hiking up along the course of the stream.

‘Follow me,’ he said, ‘and keep your damned eyes and ears open. As I said, we’re in dangerous territory here. If you see anything suspicious, and I mean anything at all, shoot first and don’t stop shooting until whatever it is is dead. That’s an order.’

‘Aye sir, I’ll dae tha’.’

‘Good. Then cock that firearm and keep it shouldered and ready to fire.’

William cocked the rifle and raised the butt to his shoulder, and through the sights he peered all around at the looming forest, searching for the unknown enemy. Despite Bingham’s words and attitude, the truth was that William actually felt quite at peace out here in the wilds. This jungle, although rather different in appearance to the Scottish Highland forests, did not fail to remind him of the soul-filling contentment he had always felt in the woods. He found his mind drifting back to boyhood times of quiet solitude, alone save for his horse and a book, surrounded by the ancient, slow-growing trees and their vast menagerie of life, with all sorts of beings who sang and danced and snaked through the eternally rotating birth, growth, reproduction and death cycles of Nature.

The memories, of course, were now inextricably intertwined with other recollections, most specifically that of his own forest goddess, who he had first met all those years ago when she had appeared before him, as dazzling and beguiling as a woodland sylph taken human form. Did those same forest deities who dwelled in the woods of the Scottish Highlands inhabit this place? Did the roots of these ancient, rough-skinned trees, whose slow language oozed out single syllables over countless cycles of seasons and lifetimes of men, reach right through the core of this spherical planet to interlink with those of their brethren across the seas? It certainly felt like that to William. He could not bring himself to regard the forest as his enemy, despite the undercurrent of fear and unease that seemed to be rippling through everyone else in his camp.

He peered through the sights of the Winchester rifle at the gnarled trunks and sky-reaching limbs of the trees, draped as they were with mossy beards of earth-seeking roots and snaking webs of vines – and he saw nothing but quiet, harmonious life. A bird cawed nearby, and its mate answered from across the stream, and insects hummed their droning undertone while a plethora of small birds warbled their poly-symphonic chorus above the gentle trills of insects. Below William, the sliver of clear water contentedly burbled its way along a rocky course.

‘Hurry up Gisborne,’ Bingham called, his sharp voice a harsh affront to the peaceful symphony of the jungle. ‘The dark is falling, and trust me, we do not want to be out here when the last of the daylight has deserted this labyrinth.’

‘Yes sir,’ William said, lowering his rifle and hurrying after Bingham.

After a few moments of scrambling upstream, they reached a spot where the brook tumbled down from a sheer rock face in a waterfall, crashing into a small but deep pool below. Bingham took a seat on a smooth rock near the pool’s edge, where mist and a windy current drifted out from the force of the tumbling water. He motioned for William to sit near him.

‘Have a seat Gisborne, and listen to me.’

William leaned the Winchester against a nearby rock, and then sat down upon it.

‘Kelly is a blasted fool,’ Bingham stated immediately. ‘He’s been deceiving and manipulating you all along.’

‘But sir, how can you say tha’, he’s—’

‘Don’t interrupt me!’ Bingham snapped. ‘I’m your superior here, and you will keep your trap shut and listen to me!’

William nodded and kept quiet.

‘Everything Kelly told you back there is an outright lie … and, in fact, just about everything he ever tells you is a lie. He claims that you still owe him money from your passage across the seas, which he paid for. The truth is, you paid off whatever debt you owed him a long time ago, even at the exorbitant interest rate he added to your loan. The man is a fraud and a thief, unabashedly so. You are aware that his “business activities” in Calcutta are all illegal, no? Well, yes, I’m sure you are, but you have most likely convinced yourself otherwise. The man is a skilled weaver of tall tales, I’ll give him that, and he certainly does have a sublime talent for manipulating others. Tell me this though, Gisborne: do you know how he ended up in India, smuggling and thieving?’

‘I, er, well, I know tha’ he comes from Louisiana, and—’

‘He is a wanted fugitive, much like yourself. Except that his crimes are far more serious than your own. He has been convicted of multiple counts of cold-blooded, premeditated murder in his own country. If he ever returns, he will be strung up from the nearest gallows as soon as he sets foot on American soil.’

‘I … I cannae believe tha’ a kind-hearted man such as—’

‘I said don’t interrupt me!’ Bingham growled.

‘I’m sorry sir.’

‘Following his escape from his native land, he then involved himself in the Atlantic slave trade. He set up a company in West Africa, brazenly trading in slaves while our British ships were out on the waters hunting down the slavers. Eventually, he was arrested there as well, and sentenced again to death, but once more the wily bastard managed to escape, with the aid of some pirates who had been