So Lady Vane’s misgivings had not been without cause. The worst that she
had surmised as possible had happened.
Buried alive! Was this the end of this terrible mine, to enter which
seemed for ever to bring death and misfortune? First, Miriam Vane, her
child, and James Outram, next, old Sir Harry Vane, then the Trauco
queen, and now a large band of human beings, had come under its
merciless sway.
The earthquake had passed away, leaving entombed considerably over
twenty, all more or less young, none over the prime of life. Ah! to die
thus was bitter indeed.
Mary and Willie behaved splendidly. There was no whining or crying on
their part; they took example by their father and mother, who, after the
first shock of horror had run through them, pulled themselves together,
and prepared to meet the fearful situation with courage and fortitude.
So, too, did Harry, Topsie, and Freddy, like the plucky young Britishers
that they were, and Shag of course knew as yet nothing about the
impending doom. But it took a long time to make some of the Indian
braves understand the situation. When they did, however, they howled and
shouted in their despair, and rushed frantically to and fro like beings
distraught, in spite of Aniwee and Piñone’s efforts to preserve order.
But they were not all cowardly. Blancha, though she wept, did so
silently. She had taken La Guardia Chica from Aniwee’s arms again, and
seating herself on the ground rocked it gently to and fro, while Chorlo
and Coquet stood silent and dumfounded, yet too brave to wail or lament.
Was there no outlet for escape? Sir Francis and Lady Vane scanned their
surroundings eagerly. Far above them they could see the blue sky, and
even the green of forest verdure, growing without. How they longed for
wings, to soar aloft to the opening, and escape!
“Aunt Ruby,” exclaimed Topsie suddenly, “if one could only reach yon
outlet above, one would be safe.”
“Mere mockery, Topsie, to mention it,” replied Lady Vane almost
reprovingly. “Who amongst us could scale that terrible face? One false
step, and we should be precipitated into the icy waters of this lake,
and dashed to pieces against yon fallen rock.”
“Yet we shall die of a worse death if we remain here,” persisted the
young girl, in whose face shone the light of a high resolve taken.
“Listen, Aunt Ruby, listen, Uncle Francis. Why should not one of us make
the attempt? If we reached the top we could descend the precipice to the
raft by one of those giant creepers. It was up and down them that our
old uncle told us the demons passed to and fro to the cave. Then, with
the help of some lassos made firm to yon trees above, and let down here,
the whole lot of us could escape. Let me try and make the attempt. You
know you always said I could scale rocks better than my brother and
cousins. What is the good of perfecting oneself in anything, if at a
moment like this, one does not try and turn it to good use? Let me try,
at any rate. I believe that if perfect silence were enjoined, and with
God’s great help, I might find a way to the top. Anyhow, I can but try.”
Brave Topsie. Yet in face of this courageous proposal, this high
resolve, so modestly and quietly put, there are many who still presume
to train the boy up to believe himself the girl’s superior in daring,
skill, strength, and physical activity. It is a false and unnatural
idea, one to which the beautiful, athletic girl gave the lie direct, as
she stood there prepared to face a violent death, in a great effort to
save the lives of her companions in misfortune.
Yet why was Topsie plucky and strong, the equal, nay, the superior, of
her brother? Because she had been given fair play. Equal opportunities
_had_ been meted out to her in all things possible, where not denied by
law. There stood the result, justifying the plea in favour of giving
perfect equality to the boy and girl in their bringing up, and their
mental and physical education.
Who shall gauge the thoughts of Sir Francis Vane as he saw before him
the noble result of his efforts to give Topsie the same fair play as
that which had been meted out to her brother? Yes, who? Large tears
sprung to his eyes, as he laid his hand on the shoulder of his undaunted
niece.
“My dearest child,” he said, and his voice trembled. “Who shall refuse
your brave offer? Not I. Say a prayer to God, and try your best, and may
the great and good God protect you.”
But Harry sprung forward and threw his arms around his sister’s neck. He
could not bear to see her go from him to risk her life, even in the
fearful situation in which they were placed.
“Let me go, Topsie,” he cried pleadingly. “You are worth a dozen of
myself. Let me have the first try.”
“No, dear,” she answered firmly. “Uncle Francis has given me leave, and
I mean to try. I think, Harry, I can do it. I am a good climber, you
know, and I am strong. Pray to God that I may succeed.”
She kissed her brother as she spoke, and unclasping the knife which hung
from her belt, opened the big blade, put the handle between her teeth,
motioned to Shag to remain beside Harry, and then not daring to trust
herself to look at those she loved so dearly, walked quickly along the
gold-shingled shore towards the frowning precipice facing her, and adown
whose sides the sullen cataract seemed to roar defiance on the desperate
attempt which she was about to make. The gallant girl prayed as she went
along, prayed more earnestly than she had ever done in her life before;
for did she not know that skill, and dexterity, a firm grip, an iron
nerve, all of which she possessed, were nothing without the great
sustaining power and protection of the God who made her?
Yes, Topsie prayed. But she prayed not only. She trusted with all her
might and main, trusted so implicitly in the Power that she prayed to,
that when she reached the base of the precipice and looked upwards,
ghastly and forbidding as the ascent appeared, it did not appal her.
The cataract shot down from the heights above in such a manner that it
formed a kind of arch between itself and the rocky side of the lofty
cave, and under it Topsie passed, and for a time became lost to her
companions’ view in the water curtain that intervened between her and
their anxious gaze.
She scanned the face of the precipice with the eye of a connoisseur. She
had not scaled the eyrie heights at home in vain. The experience of her
childhood’s scrambles over and up those steep and difficult crags, had
taught her many a valuable lesson in the art of climbing. They stood her
in good stead now, and enabled her to decide on the best line to take.
She found, to her delight, that thick creepers hung down from above, and
that between the rocks of the steep face, a vein of sandstone followed
an upward course. If the creepers were strong enough to support a
portion of her weight, she felt that she could cut notches in the
sandstone for a footing, whenever the harder rock became steep, or
denied her purchase thereon.
She ceased praying. She would pray no more. So firm was Topsie’s trust,
that she would have thought it a mockery against God to have done so.
She placed her foot on a low ledge of rock, caught hold of a pointed
crag above her, and drew herself slowly up to it. She had determined to
husband her strength to its utmost, that exhaustion might not intervene
to frustrate success. Then she seized another jutting point above this,
and got into a standing position in the first.
Here she paused to take breath and bearings, both hands clasped around
the second point, both feet planted firmly together on the first one.
Over her head hissed the falling waters of the cataract as they
performed their gigantic leap ere joining hands with the cold, dark lake
below, on their way to feed the silent river up which the explorers had
worked their way so hopefully, only to be entombed.
As she stood and rested herself, Topsie’s quick eye perceived across the
soft sandstone vein a stretch of rock slanting hollow-wards, which she
saw at once, if only it could be reached, would enable her to scale at
least thirty feet of the precipice without very great exertion, and
which would thus bring her to some thick interlacing creepers, strong
with the growth of ages, which would be of enormous assistance to her in
her desperate enterprise. But the sandstone vein was as smooth as
crystal, and there was but one way to cross it, namely, by cutting
notches for the hands and feet, a difficult and dangerous task indeed.
Yet it must be attempted, so Topsie did not flinch. She felt certain of
success, if it was God’s will. So letting herself down on to her knees,
she cut into the sandstone with her knife, balancing herself with her
other hand.
She managed the first notch right enough, and at once regained her
former position, this time cutting a notch on a level with her hands,
and another just beyond it. Then she replaced the knife between her
teeth, put both hands into the two upper notches, and let her feet into
the lower one.
She was now standing in such a position that the two upper notches were
on a level with her waist, and they being hollowed above and below she
was able to hook her right hand upwards and hold on thereby, leaving her
left one free to handle the knife, which was to cut the next notch above
her slanting to the left. Into this fresh notch, when finished, she
would insert her left hand, after replacing the knife in her teeth, and
draw her feet up into the one in which her right hand was at that moment
fixed.
Slowly but surely, step by step, notch by notch, the brave girl made her
way across the glassy surface, until at length her hand grasped the
primeval creepers with triumphant clutch. For the next thirty feet
progress was easy enough to this lithe, athletic child of Nature, as
hand over hand she drew herself up higher and higher towards the spot
where rescue lay.
Then another difficulty intervened in the shape of the sandstone vein
again, but this time there was no slant about it, as it ran straight up,
perpendicular above the girl’s head for some forty feet.
Well, there was nothing for it but notch-cutting again, and Topsie
buckled to her work. The spray of the cataract blew into her face and
refreshed her greatly, for the sweat of exertion had burst out upon her,
and stood in large beads across her brow.
It took her more than an hour to creep slowly upwards and encompass this
forbidding obstacle. Several times her brain reeled, and exhaustion
almost overcame her, but she battled bravely with her weakness, summoned
all her remaining strength and courage, and won.
Ragged rock and crevassed crags now faced her, but after her late
difficult experiences, these appeared easy sailing enough; for there was
footing room and creepers to grasp and support her. Very adroitly she
worked her way upwards, never once looking below, her climbing
experiences having taught her how fatal the practice is, even to the
best of mountaineers. No; with Topsie it was all Excelsior. Her aim was
to gain the summit.
And she gained it. Within two hours of the moment when she had placed
her foot on the first crag, full of confidence in God, Topsie Vane had
grasped the flag of victory, and passed from her prison to the outer
world.
She heard a glad, wild cheer burst forth from her darling Harry, and
then cheer after cheer from those entombed with him; she heard it all as
she dropped on her knees, and poured forth a silent prayer of
thanksgiving for her deliverance, to the God to whom she had prayed and
in whom she had trusted. Then she arose and looked about her. All around
her grew primeval forest, but the earthquake which had entombed her
party and the avalanche, parts of which had swept into the mine, as
already related, had up heaved and borne to the ground many a noble
tree, which had reared its head for centuries. The mountain stream which
fed the cataract from the giant Andes was in many parts almost blocked
up with the _débris_, but Topsie did not waste time looking about her.
She had still a difficult and dangerous as well as arduous climb to
perform, down and up the precipice which overlooked the entrance to the
cave, and the dark, silent river below. If aught befell her in this
climb, hers would be the fate to die close to and yet without the range
of all she loved so dearly; for were they not entombed within the cave,
and powerless to reach her?
She scrambled across jagged rocks and fallen trees, making her way over
the head of the cave with all speed possible, and never pausing until
she reached the deep gorge and looked down on the raft below.
Yes, there hung the thick creepers, heavy and interlaced with the growth
of years, a veritable beanstalk leading up and down from the river to
the heights above. Topsie grasped the head of one, and fearlessly let
herself down over the precipice. More than a hundred feet yawned beneath
her, but her nerve was of iron, her wrists like steel, and in less than
half an hour she had loosed her hold and sprung on to the raft.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]