Mr Meadows struggled on, hour after hour, with his companions, only
enabled to keep up with them by their exceedingly slow progress; for,
from time to time, he would sit for a few minutes while they passed on
for some little distance, and then, following the track, he would
overtake them at their slow, watchful pace.
He pressed on; sometimes tottering, sometimes resting so long that he
had to strive hard to reach the last man. The heat seemed to overcome
him; and at last, seating himself by the bright stream, upon whose banks
he was, he let five, ten, twenty minutes, an hour slip away, heedless of
all save the exhaustion that had enervated him.
Gradually a delicious sleep stole upon him, and then for a while all was
blank.
But at length the weary man awoke, and started in pursuit of his
companions, reproaching himself for his cruelty in sleeping at an hour
like this; though, at the time, his forward progress was but a weary
totter from tree to tree, against whose trunks he was often glad to lean
his hands.
"It is of no use," he groaned. "I'm worn out; and until Nature has done
her part of restoration, I am helpless as a child."
He sat down, and rested again, and then rose; for the distant report of
a gun fell upon his ear; repeated, too, once or twice; and turning from
his companions' track, he faced towards that side of the Gap from amidst
whose craggy fastnesses the sound seemed to proceed.
"I have no strength," muttered Mr Meadows feebly; "but I have still my
eyesight, and I may be able to play the spy. Why are they not here?
They have gone on too far; but if they hear the firing, they will soon
return."
He passed through the dense undergrowth, and then stopped short, for he
had hit upon a well-marked track, which looked as if the grass had been
trampled down by footprints to and fro.
"Strange," he said, "that it should fall to the weakest of the party to
discover this. I'll go on; but not in the guise of warfare;" and he
leaned his gun against a tree, and toiled patiently along the track. No
easy task, for it led up and up, along the valley side, higher and
higher; each few steps giving a view over the tops of the trees just
passed.
"Not the way taken by the gallant young man," he muttered, "for not one
of the branches he was to have broken, has met my eye. It is plain that
I have not struck upon his track; but I may be able to report good news
to our friends on my return."
Once more came the faint, muffled sound of a gun; and collecting his
fast-flagging energies, Mr Meadows pushed on, until breathless, and
with bleeding hands and knees, he stood looking down with astonishment
into a little rocky amphitheatre, strewn with provisions and the plunder
taken by the convicts from the Moa's Nest.
He stepped down, for the place appeared to be quite forsaken, and vainly
tried to make out the cause of its being untenanted, when, looking
round, he started with dismay; for half-seated, half-lying, with his
back to the rocks, was the form of a human being, but so disfigured,
that it seemed impossible for life to exist in such a ruin. But life
was there; for, to the clergyman's horror, he saw that the man was
engaged with a knife in his left hand, slowly and deliberately trying to
back off his right at the wrist.
For a few moments, Mr Meadows could not speak; then, hurrying up, he
arrested the man, exclaiming, "Surely, friend, that operation cannot be
necessary?"
"Let it be--let it be," was the answer, in a strange, muttering voice,
which came from the mutilated face. "It's a vile hand--a bad hand,
stained with crime."
It required but little effort to wrest the knife from the convict's
hand; and then, binding a handkerchief round the bleeding wrist, Mr
Meadows gazed, shuddering, in the man's face, as his head fell back, and
he fainted.
"He cannot live through those injuries," muttered the clergyman. And
leaning forward, he dropped a little brandy from the flask he carried
between the man's lips, when, after a few minutes, he revived, and spoke
in a more collected way.
"Is any one there?" he asked.
"Yes; there is one here," was the reply.
"Come back to finish your work, I suppose?" said the man hoarsely; and
he raised his arms, as if to protect his head, but only to drop them
directly.
"Where are your companions?"
"Companions--companions?" said the wounded man inquiringly. "Who, then,
are you?"
"One of those whom you so much injured."
"Injured--injured? What does it mean? What's this red blind over my
eyes? Where are we--in the valley? Or--I can't see--can't see with my
eyes, nor yet with my understanding!" he gasped, apparently struggling
hard with his misty, clouded intellect. "Yes, I can--I know now. Where
is the girl?"
"Yes; where is the poor girl?" repeated Mr Meadows anxiously; and he
again poured a few drops between the poor wretch's lips.
"Girl! Yes, yes; I saved her. I told young Murray I'd pay him. Lee's
girl, the other woman told me. I knew the Lees once, at home. Yes, at
home; and I saved her twice, and _they_ saved her."
He trailed off into a wild, incoherent string; and in spite of all Mr
Meadows's efforts and anxiety, no farther information could he obtain.
He was about to turn and leave the dreadful spectacle, when he felt a
light touch upon his arm; and starting round, he saw, standing pale and
trembling by his side, a woman whom he hardly recognised as one of the
shepherds' wives he had more than once seen at the Moa's Nest.
He elicited that she had lain concealed amidst the ferns for many hours
past, so overcome with dread, that, though provisions in abundance had
been almost within sight, she had not dared to crawl out until she heard
a voice she knew to be friendly.
She told, too, how the miserable man at their side had twice acted in
defence of Katie and herself; and how, in the midst of a wild struggle
and confusion, Katie had been snatched away: when, availing herself of
the absence of the convicts in pursuit, the woman had crawled amongst
the ferns, and lain there, not daring to more. Then, some time after,
she heard the oaths and raging of the men on their return, and the
murderous way in which they had set upon their companion, whom they
accused of betraying them, leaving him at last, probably for dead.
"And I did not dare to move, sir," she sobbed; "but had to lie there,
listening to his groans, hour after hour, till I prayed that he might
die out of his misery, as I felt that I must, or else be driven mad."
"But where do you think they are now?" said Mr Meadows.
"Somewhere up the valley that runs beside here, sir; and that's where
Miss Katie must have been taken, if they've not killed her, for there's
been shooting ever since."
"Did you not see who snatched her away?"
"No, sir, no; it was all in the night-time, when she was clinging
tightly to me, and I was struck down at the same moment."
"Let us descend from here, my child," he said; "for there are friends
below in the valley, seeking for us."
He turned to lead his new companion away, but she suddenly exclaimed,
"They're coming again! O, sir, save me--save me!"--and she clung to Mr
Meadows, who heard far down below him the rustling and snapping of the
trees, as if several people were forcing their way through them.
"That's the way they went," sobbed the woman; "and they're coming
again."
Mr Meadows had no doubt as to the truth of what she said; and glancing
round, he tried to make out the part of the rocky wall around by which
he had descended, but for a while his efforts were fruitless; and he
could not leave the woman to search for his path, since at the least
effort to unclasp her hands, she clung to him the tighter, imploring him
in whispers not to leave her--not to go away.
"No, no; we will go together. Quick! the wretches are upon us, and we
shall be taken. Heaven give me strength! What shall I do?"
His tones were anguished, for the crashing through the leaves seemed now
to be close at hand; while, as he spoke, the woman fell from him, quite
inanimate.
"Must I leave her?" he murmured to himself; and then he stooped and
tried to lift her, but it was beyond his strength, and in his despair it
seemed to him that he must be already seen. An hour sooner, he would
not have cared so much; but, with the information he had gained and the
care of this poor creature upon his hands, he felt that he would give
anything to escape; for might not this snatching away of Katie mean an
act of daring performed by Murray or the savage, and the shots fired, a
conflict still going on between them?
The leaves and boughs crashed together, and whoever they were, either
friends or foes, were coming ever nearer and nearer.
[Twelve lines of the scan are not readable here.]
The trees could be plainly seen moving now, and Mr Meadows caught a
glimpse of an approaching figure. It was only a shadowy glimpse, but
exerting his little remaining strength he dragged his companion on her
side, forced her down amongst the waving undergrowth, and then crouched
himself, gazing with swimming eyes between the strands down into the
amphitheatre, and wondering whether, after all, his efforts had not been
in vain.
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