A SHADOWY PURSUIT.
It was a fearful pledge to exact, but Jack Everson gave it without
hesitation.
"You understand me; enough; let us lose no more time; I will turn to
the right; good-bye; we are all in the hands of God."
There was not a tear in the eye of the parent. His heart might be torn
by grief, but he was now the Roman from whose lips no murmuring was
heard.
It seemed to Jack Everson that the strangeness of the incidents of the
past hour had lifted him into a state of exaltation. He never felt
calmer nor more self-possessed than when hurrying over the path, rifle
in hand, revolver at his hip with the belief that there was not one
chance in a thousand that he would ever again look upon the one who had
won his heart when the two were on the other side of the world and for
whose sake he was ready to go to the uttermost lengths of the earth.
His feeling was: "They have stolen her from us, but by the Eternal she
shall cost them dear!"
There was no thought of what all this implied to himself. He did not
care what the consequences were, so far as he was concerned. It came
to be a legend among the men desperately defending their families and
themselves during the horrors of the Sepoy mutiny, that in fighting the
unspeakable fiends, the European should save a bullet apiece for his
dear ones and one for himself.
Such was the resolve of the young American who was now making all haste
to find his beloved and her captors, and settling down into that
resolution he acted with the coolness of a veteran.
The first truth that impressed itself upon him was that the path which
he was following steadily ascended, being quite steep in many places.
This showed as a matter of course that he was attaining higher ground.
He was not familiar enough with the country to know that he was
approaching a steep ridge of hills, for the doctor had told him nothing
of the fact, and the elevated section had been passed in the boat at
night. He observed, too, that his course trended to the right, proving
that he was penetrating deeper into the country.
"If the line that the doctor is following holds straight on we must
approach each other, but his may turn more than mine--confound it!"
He had reached a point where the paths forked again. Supposing he had
been fortunate enough to take the right course at the beginning, how
could he maintain it?
Swallowing his exasperation, he reflected coolly. The trail to the
left was less travelled than the one which kept directly forward. He
believed the Ghoojurs had kept to it possibly because there was less
danger of pursuit. One fact was self-evident: nothing was to be gained
by standing still, while there was a chance of accomplishing something
by going on. With scarcely a minute's hesitation he advanced at a
rapid stride over the more faintly marked course, peering in advance
for a glimpse of his enemies.
Since the latter had not gained much start it would seem that he ought
to be close upon them, always provided he was traveling in their actual
footsteps. The ground continued rough and broken, but it had no effect
on his progress. Something like a shadow whisked across the path in
front at the moment of his passing round a turn. Some animal had
caught sight of him, and, scared by the vision, had leaped into the
jungle at the side. Whether it was a tiger, leopard, cheetah, wild
boar or another brute he did not know or care. If it dared to dispute
his way he would shoot.
He was pressing forward in this reckless, desperate fashion, when he
dropped as if he had collided with a stone wall, and his heart almost
ceased its beating. He had caught the faint report of a firearm. It
came from a point on his right and sounded as if caused by a revolver,
rather than a larger weapon. The thought that came to him was that it
was the pistol of Mary Marlowe!
"She is at bay; she may have fired it at herself, and yet I do not
think she would do that until some of the bullets had reached the
wretches who have captured her. I am following the wrong path, for
this one leads me away from her."
Without an instant's hesitation he turned and began his return on a
loping trot. He was incensed with himself because of his mistake, and
yet there was no reasonable cause for such feeling, but grief is as
thoughtless as love, and he was stirred to the very depth of his soul
by both. Reaching the last forking, he did not pause, but set out over
the main trail.
In front of him towered a mass of rocks higher than any he had yet
seen. The path wound about these, but instead of following it, he
climbed to the highest part.
"I may gain sight of something from up there," was his thought as he
pushed on, "that will be of some help."
And he did see something from the crest which fairly took away his
breath.