TO THE RESCUE
Rees was galloping along the steep road leading to the mountains. He,
who was generally so kind to animals, rushed the bay horse under him
at a most unmerciful speed. But his willing beast did not misjudge
him and think him harsh; he seemed instinctively to understand that
there was some appalling need for this breakneck pace up and down the
steep hills guarding and making it difficult to reach the precipitous
mountains beyond. The horse stretched out his quivering bay limbs,
barely touching the chocolate-tinted track in its excited eagerness to
comply with the wishes of its beloved rider.
As Justin flew over the ground his eyes were fixed on the wide, flat
marks of motor tyres plainly visible in the reddish-brown dust.
He had breakfasted early that morning, taken a large party of visitors
to some waterfalls, returned home shortly before lunch, and found that
Captain Barton had carried Mrs. Henderson and Iris off immediately
after breakfast to the mountains. He had reproached Miss Smith for
allowing them to go without a guide; she had replied that she had done
her best to dissuade Captain Barton from going, but he had waved all
her objections aside, told her he was used to mountaineering and that
the ladies were perfectly safe with him. He had not taken her warnings
kindly, and finally she had been forced to pack their luncheon-basket
and see them start off in the beautiful dark red car. Strange to say,
neither Mrs. Henderson nor Miss Dearn had seemed afraid to trust
themselves with their self-confident friend.
Now Rees was racing as fast as the splendid bay would carry him to
reach the summit in time to prevent their descending the wrong turning
on their way back. To find the way to the top was not difficult, for
the path was well defined; but, after they had wandered about on the
high, trackless plateau with the numerous peaks rising at erratic
intervals from the rocky plain, the danger would begin, as the ravines
leading downwards were all so much alike and it would be hard to strike
the right one; and, should they descend the wrong one--the rider urged
on his horse at the thought--almost certain death awaited them--an
aimless wandering about for days amid never-ending slopes, densest
bush, barren rocks; or, if they should make a false step on a loose
boulder, a hurling into a dizzy chasm.
It was about three o’clock when he arrived at the spot where the track
narrowed into a small path and the car had stopped. Mrs. Henderson sat
in the motor, reading; she heard the thud of the galloping hoofs a
little distance away and recognised Rees instantly; no one else rode
like that. She looked at him in surprise as he drew rein and pulled up
the panting, trembling horse.
“Mr. Rees, you don’t mean to say you have come after us?” she said
with evident astonishment.
“Yes, of course,” he replied unevenly, and went on to explain to her
the danger in a few words. “How long is it since they left you?” he
finished, with undisguised concern.
“Quite two hours,” she answered, beginning to feel uneasy as she looked
at his anxious, strained face.
She watched him as he hastily unsaddled the horse and let him go;
then he threw his long blue overcoat over his shoulder, strapped the
bag he carried on his back a little tighter, turned to speak to her
again; then, after a few words, hurried along the steep little path
winding its way up the dense bush and was soon lost among the great
overshadowing trees.
Mrs. Henderson’s healthy face paled. She suddenly realised the horrible
seriousness of the situation. It was really too bad of Ralph to have
been so obstinate about not taking the guide with them, and so run such
awful risks with Iris. She had argued the point with him that morning,
but as he had been so confident and reassuring she had weakly given in.
However, Rees was on the spot now, and that thought brought relief.
In the meanwhile the driver was climbing as he had never climbed
before. He was as reckless with himself as he had been with his horse.
The perspiration rolled from his forehead, his veins swelled and his
breath came in rapid gasps.
He passed through beautiful gorges where huge tree ferns spread out
alluring, detaining fronds, and gigantic dark green myrtles almost
barred the way. Higher up he crossed barren slopes dotted with stunted
wind-swept bushes and long, wiry-looking grass, where the wild cry of
crow-shrieks mingled with the hoarse, fitful whispers of the breeze.
Once a big, mole-tinted kangaroo leapt by him on its rapid, bounding
way. But he hardly noticed it; his eyes were fixed on the ground, his
lips set.
At last he entered the long, narrow ravine leading to the top of the
ridge, and, after half-an-hour’s strenuous climbing through the steep,
dark, tunnel-like passage, he stood panting on the immense plateau, his
burning eyes scanning the vast scene before him. The late afternoon
sunshine flooded the endless plain, and made the crags and peaks rising
from it look like great, curiously shaped pyramids springing from some
huge, billowy desert.
Rees shaded his eyes with his hand and gazed intently on the rocky
stretches before him. But no one was in sight. Then he walked on,
coo-eeing loudly as he went. After a time a faint response came to his
call. He hurried on in the direction of the sound, and presently he saw
two men standing by a tremendous boulder which, till then, had hidden
them from view. But there was no lady visible; however, Iris might be
sitting down behind the stone.
“Where is Miss Dearn?” asked the driver without ceremony, as he came up
to the men and looked eagerly for the missing figure. As there was no
immediate answer to his question he glanced quickly at his companions,
and, for the first time, noticed that there were marks of distress
on their faces.
[Illustration: _Photo. Beattie, Hobart._
MOUNT PICTON.]
He repeated his question more peremptorily.
The chauffeur gave his master an odd look and waited for him to reply.
“Miss Dearn will come along presently; she must have gone to look at
some of the curious rocks about here,” said Captain Barton, stroking
one of his smooth cheeks and trying not to betray his uneasiness.
“Man, you don’t mean to say you don’t know where she is?” broke out
Justin indignantly.
“I think you are forgetting yourself, Mr. ----” replied Ralph, with an
attempt at dignity.
“Tell me where you lost her;” demanded Rees, ignoring his thrust.
Captain Barton’s fears were getting the better of him and he felt in
sad need of Rees as an ally, so he swallowed his pride and said: “She
was sitting here when we went to climb that peak over there. She did
not want to go any farther and I am sure she said she would stay here
till we returned. I thought perhaps she might have gone back to Mrs.
Henderson and we were just going down to see, but as you did not meet
her I suppose she is still up here somewhere.”
The driver’s hot face had suddenly blanched. “So you left a lady,
entrusted to your care, to amuse yourself climbing peaks!” There was
deep scorn and anger in his low, quiet voice. Then his tones changed.
“But there is no time to lose; we must begin to look for Miss Dearn at
once.”
The driver soon organised the little search party. The chauffeur was
to go up the western range, Captain Barton was told to go towards the
south, and he himself took the long, interminable ridges stretching to
the east. He arranged with the others that they were to search till
sundown if Miss Dearn was not found before, but to descend then, as
they could do no good after dark and would only become a new anxiety to
him. He would stay on the mountains all night. He planned that whoever
found Miss Dearn should go down below the ravine where there was plenty
of wood and light a huge fire, so that the others might see the smoke
and return. The guide also advised that they should take Mrs. Henderson
home when they returned at sundown and come back the following morning
at dawn to resume the search.
So the three men parted and went in their various directions.
Rees saw the others start and then began to walk quickly along his own
allotted region. He heard them calling as they went; at first their
voices sounded loud and clear, but gradually they grew fainter and
were at last lost to his ears altogether. He, too, began to coo-ee
at intervals and listen intently for some distant response. But none
came. He walked on more rapidly as the sun sank lower in the west. The
warm, slanting sunbeams grew golden. The sun hung over the western
crags as a huge ball of fire which was about to drop on them and endow
each stately peak with volcanic flames. The brilliant globe sank lower
till it touched the crest of far-away summits, and then suddenly a
flood of fire leapt over the plateau, lighting up every rock with
amber radiance. In another moment the sun had disappeared, the amber
glow deepened to rose, and the whole vast plateau was turned into a
wilderness of dazzling fire, making every crag glisten with fierce red
splendour!
Justin looked at the amazing beauty and breathed hard. To him it only
meant just then that before long it would be too dark for further
search. There was no moon, and in the nightly gloom he would not
even know if he were walking in the right direction. He went on
with increased vigour. Iris was alone and frightened somewhere up
here in this endless desert of peaks. If only she would stay on the
plateau there might be some hope of finding her; but if she, by any
chance, should attempt to descend by any of those trackless, terrible
gullies---- He shuddered and quickened his pace. But it was not easy to
walk fast; there were great boulders to climb, huge, rocky protrusions,
deep gorges to be bordered, yawning chasms to be avoided. But he made
his way resolutely onwards in spite of all hindrances, coo-eeing
repeatedly as he went.
The roseate light faded. A deep, dark gloom crept up from the valleys,
enfolding the plateau and stealing slowly towards every summit. The
plain became shadowy and blurred. The glow died out of the sky. The
distant views grew dim. Night stole over the world. It advanced all
round the lonely figure walking with desperate determination in the
gathering dusk. Hope was fading from his soul, despair began to clutch
at his heart. How was he to find his darling when it grew dark? Would
he ever find her? He might walk on the top of the mountains for days,
for weeks, for months, and yet never catch a glimpse of her beloved
form, even if it were possible for her to exist all that time without
food and shelter. He often turned round and looked in the direction of
the downward track for the smoke which was to indicate she had been
found. But no curling wreaths rose from the valley below. The others
would have returned by this time. They would not find her now; if she
was to be found _he_ must do it. He hastened on again.
As he looked towards the western peaks he noticed with a sudden fear
that small clouds had begun to gather on one of the highest peaks.
After walking a short distance he looked back again; the small
cloudlets had united into a big, fleecy mass which was sinking low over
the towering crests. Justin’s heart almost stood still at the sight.
Should the vapoury mass descend and envelop all, then there would not
be one ray of hope; each step would be fraught with danger, and, if
Iris were trying to walk, then---- Rees shivered visibly. The awful
clouds were drawing closer. A terrible anguish seized him. All seemed
lost. He would never be able to reach Iris now. If only she had stayed
in the same place where she found she had lost her bearings! If only
she had not tried to descend any of the gullies! But she could not have
remained stationary, or one of the three searchers would have found her
long ago.
Justin staggered on. The hopelessness in his heart had robbed his step
of its buoyancy, and he was very tired. He had not waited for lunch
when he heard the party had gone to the mountains. He had not touched
food since his early breakfast; he had been through a dreadful strain
and it was telling on him now. He reeled with exhaustion and misery,
and suddenly sank down on the cold, rocky ground. What was he to do?
There were plenty of sandwiches in the bag strapped on his back, yet he
felt he could not eat; food would choke him. There was also a flask in
the bag; one draught of that liquid fire and he would revive!
But something in him rose in quick revolt. No, that flask must not be
touched by him. Iris might need it all, and besides, he could not greet
her with the scent of _that_ on his lips.
The gloom gathered thicker all around him; the fleecy masses crept
nearer and nearer. They came towards him softly, insidiously, blotting
out all hope and possibility of finding the girl he loved.
A moan of desperation escaped his drawn lips.
He would be lost himself if he attempted to move; he was even now cut
off from stumbling onward in the dark and pursuing his search.
He leant back against the boulder behind him with closed eyes.
Ah, where was Iris this dark, terrible night? Was she huddled together
somewhere behind grim, relentless stones, afraid of the great, vast
solitude, the awful, mute loneliness? If only he could have found
her and stayed with her during the long, dark hours! His splendid
Iris--Iris, who had treated him with such magnificent generosity, who
had looked at him with eyes shimmering with love; who had forgiven
his fall with such boundless generosity; who had put aside shyness,
conventionality, and come out into the lane the night before to comfort
him; his beautiful Iris, who had been willing to risk all and unite her
life to his, she was lost now--somewhere terribly alone in this great,
ruthless expanse!
He moaned again, and bit his lip. Then into his burning brain came a
vision of Turner’s cabin, which he had visited the evening before. He
saw the small, tidy gate where years ago the old drunkard had painted
the name “Hope” on the slender woodwork. He saw the gaunt, white-haired
man and heard him speak in his cracked, rasping voice: “There is always
hope, my lad; that is why I painted that name on my gate twenty years
ago; some day I shall win. Hope comes by way of--God.”
Apparently the old man had not reached God’s help all these years, but
yet the drunkard was confident that He _would_ help him before it was
too late.
Would that same God help him? Rees asked himself. His end had come--the
end of his own efforts, his own powers. Would not God step into a
breach as terrible and as urgent as his? All at once he felt, in his
extremity, that God was his only hope.
He sat up suddenly, then he covered his white face with his cold hands,
and, his very soul crying out, began to pray. He besought God, with an
intensity which warmed him and made his body tingle with its vehemence,
to guard the girl he so passionately longed to protect! His spirit
lighted him on and he found the only Being who could meet his need,
and laid hold on Him with hands which would not relax, entreating Him,
with all the force of his distracted, agonised soul, to lead him to the
girl he would give his life to rescue!
A strange peace came to him. His despair vanished. Hope returned, and
with it came back his strength and accustomed vigour. He rose quickly.
Surely his stumbling feet would be guided to the spot where the
darkness and the relentless rocks hid the woman he loved.
As he made his way in the murky gloom an odd desire to sing stole over
him. His singing had reached Iris in the cave; might it not reach her
again? It had drawn them together in the hollow hill; might it not draw
them together now?
He began to sing, and his voice, powerful and irresistibly sweet,
floated into the wild, brooding loneliness. Song after song trembled
into the listening spaces. After each verse he stopped and waited
eagerly for some response. But there was no answer.
Then at last he began the song which was always now symbolical of the
birth of their love, and his clear, exquisite tones rang out the words--
“I’ll sing thee songs of Araby.”
He sang with a strange, throbbing pathos; all his love, his tenderness,
his desperate anxiety, his anguish, pulsated in every quivering note,
saturating the darkness with its exquisite sweetness.
He stopped and listened, then started violently--was it the mockery
of the rising breeze or some conjury of the echoing rocks? It seemed
as if there was a faint, far-away response. He made his way blindly,
frantically, in the direction of the sound, and after he had walked
awhile he repeated the song and then waited breathlessly.
His heart gave a terrible bound; this time the response was quite
distinct, and it was the voice he was craving to hear!
In his impetuous haste he stumbled over some protruding stones; but the
fall did not delay him long, and he blundered on again. Once more he
sang a phrase of their song, and the answer came, astonishingly close
to him.
Then his burning eyes saw a tall, slender form emerge from the soft
dimness, and make its way towards him.