It was bitter work sitting there beneath the shelter of that stone,
striving with his thoughts; and Edward Murray's heart sank as the
darkness increased, and he reflected on his situation. Yet, in spite of
his anxiety of mind, that day's rest had not been without its good
effects. The stiffness had to some extent worn off, and at last, when
the night had quite closed in, and the darkness rendered such a
proceeding safe, Murray rose, and began to search along the side and
face of the precipice for a spot whence he might contrive to scale the
crag, and reach the shelf where his companions were concealed.
He moved cautiously, for it struck him that he had heard the sound of
approaching enemies in the gully below, though the darkness was too
profound for anything to be seen; but though he tried all along to find
the spot where Wahika has ascended, it was in vain, and he turned to
regain the spot where he had lain, when, almost simultaneously, he heard
the rolling down of a dislodged stone, and the sharp crack of a rifle,
when a bullet whizzed by his ear, and seemed to strike the spot where he
had so lately rested, the loose stones flying in all directions, and
then pattering down.
A pang shot through Murray's breast, as he thought of whose hand must
have fired that shot; and then listening for a while for sounds from
below, he stepped back to the face of the precipice, eager now to
confront the treacherous villain who thus again sought to take his life,
after having threatened it twice before during the day. He passed along
the face of the rock, stumbling heavily amidst the loose stones; and
then his hand encountered something that made his heart leap, and
seizing it with both hands, he climbed slowly and painfully, higher and
higher, till his feet rested on a loftier ledge; and he stopped,
panting, and wondering whose was the hand that had let down the rope.
Was it Wahika? or was it a fresh act of treachery on the part of Bray?
Was he to climb nearly to the top, and then feel his support suddenly
slacken, that he might fall a heavy, helpless mass upon the cruel rocks
beneath? He could not help it; he feared that it was so, and for a few
moments felt disposed to slide down again. But no! only a few feet
above him he knew that Katie needed his protection. He would persevere
at all hazards; and once more the rough rope quivered beneath his
weight, as slowly he clambered higher and higher, till with a violent
effort he got one knee upon the edge, and grasped a tuft of herbage;
when, just as a hand was gliding down his arm--that of the savage--there
rang from beneath a loud shout--six or eight shots were fired from close
at hand--and then, with the aid suddenly withdrawn, Murray's knee
slipped from the edge, and he had only time to loose the slackened rope,
and force his bleeding fingers into the crevices of the rock, to save
himself from falling.
The darkness was awful; the tension upon his weakened arms such as he
could hardly bear; but finding some slight support for his feet, he
continued to hang on until he had somewhat recovered from the shock, and
then made another effort to save himself. He dared not call for aid,
lest he should point out his position to the convicts. But his faint
whisper was heard in the dead silence, and in an instant he felt himself
clutched, just as his hands were slipping over the stone, and he felt
that he must fall.
That grasp stayed him; but, at the same moment, a heavy foot struck at
his hands, and it seemed that in the darkness a struggle was going
forward upon the ledge. The fragments lying loose were thrown down, and
then came a couple more shots, a loud shriek, and then a heavy,
sickening fall upon the rocks beneath.
A strange, deathly feeling crept over Edward Murray--a feeling of horror
and weakness. His hands seemed to relax, his arms to become powerless;
and though a voice he well knew whispered to him in anguished tones to
try once more, his attempt was without success. He seemed only to sink
lower; one foot slipped from the tuft upon which it had rested, and
though he tried hard to regain the hold, it was in vain. He knew that
it was Katie who pressed down his hands into the chink where they now
rested; but it seemed to him that he was drawing her over with him in
his vain efforts; and that in a few more moments, she, as well as
himself, would be crushed on the points beneath.
Her encouraging whisper came, close to his ear, to try again. But he
was exhausted and helpless, till he felt his arm seized, dragged almost
out of the socket, and then he lay motionless upon the ledge, with a
hand grasping his on one side, and the sound as of some one panting hard
from exertion on the other.
Twice again came the crash and rattle of bullets striking above their
heads; but they were too well-sheltered for harm to befall them, now
that their enemies were close beneath, evidently trying hard to find
some means of ascent, while Katie's hand trembled as she listened to the
corses and threats which defiled the quiet of the night.
As he lay, each moment recovering strength, Murray tried in vain to
interpret the meaning of what had taken place in the darkness, for he
had not seen the tussle between Wahika and Bray as the latter had
furiously sought to thrust his rival from his hold. The intense
darkness had prevented his making out the meaning of the sounds he had
heard; but when he crept forward, and found out that Murray had nearly
reached the ledge, his rage knew no bounds, and, but for Wahika's
devotion, the clinging hold would have been destroyed. The volley from
below did the rest; and there, close beneath the cliffs, lay the body of
Bray, shot through the heart, and insensible to the farther cruelties
practised by the convicts now in revenge for their losses.
The silence upon the ledge, though, soon lent support to Murray's
suspicions; but he said nothing, except whispering to Wahika an inquiry
as to the possibility of an escape, but only to learn that there was
none.
Another rattling volley startled them; but apparently feeling now that
their efforts only ended in waste of ammunition, the convicts ceased
firing, and, for the rest of the night, save an occasional whisper, the
silence was oppressive. But there was not the agony of spirit Murray
had before suffered. Two soft hands were now clasping his; and when all
hope of relief was gone, he thought, as they sat there waiting for the
day, that they could still die together.
But he was hopeful yet. There was the prospect of help coming through
Mr Meadows; and he told his thoughts to the trembling girl.
"But would they find this gully?" was the response, to which he could
only speak hopefully.
The sound of Wahika reloading a gun made the young man ask for a piece,
which, with the much-lightened horn and pouch, was pushed into his
hands, and, with knitted brow, he sat still, waiting for the light,
feeling stronger each hour, and determined to give a good account of
more than one assailant, before finger should be laid upon the sleeping
form at his side.
For now, completely worn out, and feeling herself in comparative
security, the poor girl's head had sunk lower and lower, until it had
rested upon her breast, and she slept.
At last, morning again, bright and glowing. Murray felt that if they
could only hold the convicts at bay, that would be sufficient. The help
must come soon; and if they could avoid farther bloodshed, he should be
thankful. But he knew that all must depend upon the actions of their
assailants, and he looked about anxiously now, to see the state in which
they, the besieged, would be.
Wahika had told him that man could not climb the sides of the gully; but
the savage had not allowed for the possibility of one or two daring
spirits climbing to a height wherefrom they could command their place of
refuge, and render it untenable for any length of time; and it was with
no little anxiety that Murray saw that, from the first, faint light, the
convicts had been carefully trying the sides, and that now a couple of
men were slowly crawling up from crag to crag to a projection similar to
that on which the besieged rested, and from which, while finding shelter
themselves, they would be able to fire down upon those at the end of the
gully.
There was no time for consideration--it was life for life; and having
turned to see whether the savage had made out the new danger, Murray
took careful aim, fired, and had the mortification of seeing a puff of
dust close by one of the convicts' heads as the bullet struck the stone,
while the shot sent by Wahika had no better effect.
A loud shout of derision greeted their failure; and as hands were raised
in loading, shot after shot was discharged at the ledge, but also
without effect. Wahika was first ready to fire again. Murray's hand
trembled so from excitement that he was long in preparing; and then they
took aim again at the uppermost convict, who they found, to their
dismay, had gained the shelf, and was reaching down to help his
companion, who was toiling patiently after him. Two steps, a strong
drawing up of the hands, and he was within reach, so that he could grasp
the other, and in another minute destruction would have been certain for
the fugitives, when simultaneously Murray and Wahika discharged their
pieces, and Katie hid her face in her hands, for there was a strange
surging movement in the higher convict, who pulled his companion upward
for a few inches, and then seemed to bow forward, gliding over the edge
of the precipice, the two falling from crag to crag, full sixty feet, to
roll over at last, crushed and helpless, among the ferns and long grass.
A cry of rage followed this defeat; and darting from behind a stone,
another man began fiercely to scale the side, climbing actively till he
had nearly reached the same height as his companions, and then, escaping
a couple of bullets, taking a leap which landed him upon a jutting mass,
behind which he glided; but the next moment his gun-barrel was raised,
with his cap thereon, by way of signal to his companions, who greeted it
with a cheer. Then Murray saw it withdrawn, and an ominous silence
followed.
But the suspense was not of long duration; for before Murray or the
savage could see sufficient of their enemy to take an aim, a puff of
smoke seemed to jet out from the rock, and Murray was conscious of a
sharp twinge on the shoulder, a bullet having passed through his coat
and grazed the skin. He remained motionless though, his eye glancing
along the barrel of his gun, as he waited for a good opportunity for
delivering his shot, but in vain. Twice or thrice he saw the motion of
a lifted arm, as of one loading his piece, and then again came a shot,
and the puff of smoke, only visible as it darted outward, and then
gently floated up on the still morning air.
This bullet was wider of the mark, but a dull feeling of despair seized
upon Murray, as, leaving his gun, he glided back to where Katie
crouched, telling himself that he could not die with her so close at
hand, without a farewell.
No words, though, were uttered, as he took the weeping girl to his
heart; and then, softly unclasping the arms that tightened round his
neck, he left her, whispering the words, "Pray for us!"
As Murray retook his place, another bullet almost instantly struck up
the splinters of stone, blinding him for a few minutes, and compelling
him to wipe the blood from his face.
It seemed that Wahika was not within sight of their enemy, for no shot
had been aimed at him; and now, with a low-muttered exclamation of
resentment, he crawled to his companion's side, and with him watched in
vain for an opportunity to fire. They could see again the raised arm
above the rock as the ramrod was driven into the piece; then came the
puff of smoke, there was a dull thud by Murray's side, and, springing up
with a cry of rage, the savage shook his piece fiercely for an instant
in the direction of his foe, and then fell, rolling to the back of the
ledge, bleeding profusely.
In spite of his efforts, a despairing groan burst from Murray's breast
as he saw his faithful ally gasping upon the rock, his teeth set with
anguish, and the tide of life welling from a wound in his shoulder.
But, after the first cry of rage and pain, no sound escaped the savage,
and he lay passive; while, between them, Murray and the girl did what
they could to stop the effusion of blood, for the bullet had passed
completely through his shoulder.
Cheer after cheer had greeted this success, and half-a-dozen shots were
fired in a volley at the face of the rock, but only to bring down a
shower of stones; and on turning once more to regain his place, to his
horror, Murray made out that the convict, elated by his victory, and
missing both of his enemies, had climbed a little higher, so as to
better command the ledge, forgetful that he was exposing himself to his
enemy's aim.
Just then Murray once more appeared in sight, when the startled wretch
dropped to his former position, but not quite in so secure a fashion,
for his fall swept down a portion of the foliage that had before
concealed him; and as two reports rang out almost as one, Murray had the
satisfaction of seeing a hand thrown up, and the convict's gun fall
clattering down into the gully.
Murray loaded again as expeditiously as possible; but seeing that his
antagonist was helpless, he refrained from firing another shot,
reserving it for the next who should attempt to scale the gully-side,
and it was not long before he had an opportunity; but his aim was bad,
and he had the misery of seeing another daring fellow climb to the rock,
and then coolly shelter himself behind his comrade's body.
Watching attentively his enemy's movements, Murray prepared to recharge
his piece; but once more his heart sank, for he had sent his last bullet
winging its way; and on turning to Wahika, he found that the charge in
the savage's gun was the last that he, too, possessed.
There was nothing for it but to withdraw into such shelter as he could
reach--little enough; for the fresh man, more energetic even than his
disabled fellow, kept on firing furiously, but without effect; while
terribly unnerved by this enforced inactivity, the horrors of thirst now
attacked afresh the occupants of the ledge, the wounded savage's
sufferings seeming to be intense, as he turned his dull eyes from one to
the other, as if asking the help they could not give.
The sun rose higher and higher; and, save the occasional shout of
directions to the man on the rock, the convicts preserved an almost
unbroken silence. But, suddenly, Murray saw three or four begin to dart
from stone to stone, as if in retreat, and descend the gully; but too
unguarded an exposure of himself brought a bullet whizzing by his ear,
and he felt, with justice, that those who had gone had probably departed
on a foraging expedition, while they were to lie there and die.
"Would no help come? Had there not now been ample time?" he asked
himself, as he gazed at poor Katie's parched white lips. Their thirst
was terrible, while their sufferings were like those of Tantalus; for,
in full view, they could see the cold water trickle from stone to stone,
and drop plashing into the rocky basin beneath their feet.
What should he do? Should he leave her to fall alive into the hands of
the convicts, or should he--
He covered his face with his hands and groaned, as the bright scene of
the happy home--the rifled nest--came flashing through his memory.
"Don't heed me, Katie," he whispered, as he felt his hands drawn away
from his face, to be kissed and pressed to a tender throbbing heart.
"Don't heed me. I'm weak and childish with my wounds, and it unmans me
to see you in such peril."
"Hush, hush," whispered the poor girl; "do not grieve. It cannot be
very hard to die--not very. See there, how poor Wahika, who has fought
so nobly, seems to bear his fate; for he is going, Ned," she continued;
and she pointed to the glazing eyes and motionless form at their side.
"If that poor savage can die so peacefully, cannot we, who have received
so much greater light, pass away even as gently as he?"
The young man sighed heavily, as he pressed her again and again to his
breast, but he could not speak.
"Will they kill us quickly, Ned?" she went on. "I hope so now; for
things seem strange, darling, and I want you to hold me tightly--O, so
tightly; for it is as though I were being dragged away; and I can see
dear father beckoning to me, and--Yes, yes; I'm coming!" Looking up
suddenly in Murray's face, she kissed him tenderly. "Good-night, father
dear!" she murmured; "it was a dream, a troubled dream; and my head, my
head--"
The heat had now grown insufferable, and the silence down the gully that
of death--so complete, that when, as Katie lay there with her head upon
Murray's breast, she started and laughed a little happy-sounding laugh,
it seemed to be repeated from the mountain side.
"There, there!" she muttered gently; "I can sleep now; but it was
terrible--yes, it was terrible--such dreams are bad. Poor Ned! his face
all crimsoned, and his hands blackened with powder. But he was fighting
for me--for me whom he loves--and--Yet did they not kill him?--did they
not leave him in the burning--Ned!" she added, starting, as it were,
into sensibility again, and gazing at him with terror-stricken eyes,
"what was it? What did it mean? Was it real?"
Then she trailed off again into a broken incoherent murmur, now lifting
her parched lips to his, then hiding her face in her hands; but these
fits of delirium were succeeded by moments of calm.
Hour after hour, Murray crouched there--alone now, he told himself, for
poor Katie's mind seemed to have passed away. She had borne up bravely,
but her sufferings had been greater than she could bear; and Murray knew
that if the prayed-for help came not soon, there would be nothing for
him to do but to meet the bullets ready for his breast, for all would be
over, and the tragedy of Golden Gap complete.
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