A DESPERATE SITUATION
Mechanically, Drew took his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the
cold sweat from his brow. He tried to steady his reeling brain and
bring some semblance of order into his thoughts.
This then was the end! Trapped like a rat in a cage, shut out forever
from the world of men, doomed to die miserably and hopelessly,--sealed
in a tomb while yet alive!
All the dreams he had cherished, all the hopes he had nourished, all
the future he had planned--planned with Ruth----
Ruth!
The thought of her wrung his soul with anguish, but it also woke him
from his torpor.
He _would_ see her again! He would not surrender! He would _not_ die!
Not while a breath remained in his body would he give in to despair.
There must be some way out. Fate would not be so cruel as to carry its
ghastly joke to the very end. He would call on all his resources. He
would struggle, fight, never give up for a moment.
His brain cleared and he took a grip on himself. The blood once more
ran hot in his veins. His youth and manhood asserted themselves in
dauntless vigor and determination.
The first thing to do was to attack the wall of fresh dirt and rock
that hemmed him in. Perhaps it was less thick than it seemed. He had
no implement to help him; but his muscular arms and powerful hands
might suffice to dig a way to freedom.
He sought to fortify himself by calling to mind all that he had ever
read about prisoners digging their way to freedom. Their cases had
seemed desperate, but often they had succeeded. He too would
succeed--he must succeed. Ruth was outside waiting for him, working
for him, praying for him.
He set to work with a dogged resolution and fierce energy that soon had
the perspiration flowing from him in streams. Behind him the dirt and
debris piled up in a rapidly growing mound. His hands and nails were
torn, but his excitement and absorption were so great that no sensation
of physical pain was conveyed to his overwrought brain.
At times he stopped to rest a moment and to listen for the stroke of
pick or shovel from the opposite side of his living grave. But no
sound came to him. He seemed to be in a soundless universe except for
the rasp of his own labored breathing.
It was after one of these intervals of listening that he was about to
resume his frenzied efforts when he thought he heard a slight sound in
the cave behind him.
His heart seemed to stand still for a moment while he strained his ears.
There was no mistake. Some living thing was in the cave besides
himself!
Instinctively, his hand gripped the butt of his revolver. Then with a
bitter smile he put it back in its place. Why should he hurt or kill
anything that was alive? Death seemed sure enough for any occupant of
that cave.
He went back stealthily until he reached the wider part of the cave,
where he had been when the shock came that had entombed him.
Again that faint sound, undeniably human, came to his ears. Pacing
cautiously in the direction from which it came, his foot struck against
something soft. He reached down and his hand came in contact with a
woman's dress.
In an instant he had gathered the yielding form in his arms.
"Ruth!" he shouted.
"Allen!" came back faintly from her parted lips.
For an instant everything reeled about Drew and his mind was awhirl.
Then he laid his burden down and fell frantically to rubbing her hands.
Incoherent cries came from his lips as he sought to restore her to
complete consciousness.
His vigorous efforts were rewarded a few moments later when Ruth
stirred and tried to sit up.
"I must have fainted," she said; "or perhaps I struck my head against
the side of the cave when the shock came."
"Don't try to talk yet," said Drew. "Just lie still a few minutes till
you are stronger."
She obeyed, while he sat beside her holding her hand.
"I can sit up now," she said after a few minutes. "My head is
perfectly clear again."
"Are you sure you didn't hurt yourself when you fell?"
"I think not," she answered, as she passed her hand over her hair. "My
head doesn't seem to be bruised or bleeding anywhere. It must have
been the shock."
"Thank God it was nothing worse!" returned Drew fervently. "But tell
me how you happened to be here. It seems like a miracle. The whole
thing staggers me. I thought I left you outside of the cave when I
went in."
"So you did," she assented with a touch of her old demureness, "but
that doesn't say that I stayed there."
"I see it doesn't," he replied. "But why didn't you?"
"I guess it's because I'm not used to obeying anybody except my
father," she answered evasively.
"Tell me the real reason."
"Well," she said, driven to bay, "I was afraid there might be something
dangerous in here and--and--I didn't want you to have to face it
alone--and"--here she paused.
Drew's heart beat wildly.
"And so you came in to stand by my side," he said with emotion. "Ruth,
Ruth----"
"But now," said Ruth hastily, following up her advantage, "we must
hurry and get back to the others. Father will begin to worry about me."
Anguish smote Drew. Ruth had evidently not the slightest idea that
anything stood between her and freedom. How could he break the
dreadful news to her? He felt like an executioner compelled by some
awful fate to slay the one he loved most dearly.
"You mustn't look at me after we get outside until I've had a chance to
arrange my hair," she warned him gaily. "I must look a perfect fright."
Every innocent word was a stab that went straight to the man's heart.
His mind was a tumult of warring emotions. At first there had been a
wild delight when he had found himself in the presence of his heart's
desire, after he feared that he would never hear her voice again. In
the excitement of bringing her back to consciousness and listening to
her story, the fearful peril in which they stood had been relegated to
the background. Now it came back at him with re-doubled force, and he
had to close his lips tightly to suppress a groan.
He could have died alone, if escape had proved impossible, and met
death like a man. But to have to watch Ruth die--die perhaps after
enduring unspeakable suffering--the mere thought threatened to drive
him mad.
And she was here because she had feared that he might encounter danger
and wanted to meet it at his side when it came. But for that
courageous impulse, she might at this moment be safe and sound out
under the open sky instead of being buried alive in this island tomb.
Moreover her very presence here made their danger all the greater.
There was little chance now of help coming to them from the outside.
No doubt Tyke and Captain Hamilton would grow uneasy at their absence
and look them up--probably they were hunting for them now. But they
did not know of the existence of the cave, and now that the entrance
was closed there was not the slightest chance of finding them. They
would explore the mountain side, search every foot of the island, but
their quest would be doomed to failure from the beginning.
While these thoughts had been hurrying through his tortured brain, Ruth
had arranged her disordered hair as best she could in the darkness and
stood ready to go.
"Well, Allen, what are we waiting for?" she asked. "You men are always
complaining that the girls keep you waiting, but this time you're the
guilty one."
He tried to adopt her bantering mood, but failed miserably.
"I'll have to throw myself on your mercy," he said. "But wait here a
moment, Ruth, till I see if the path is clear."
Even in the darkness, he was almost conscious that she looked at him in
surprise. But he needed time to get his thoughts together and decide
on the easiest way of breaking the terrible news that weighed on his
heart.
He cudgeled his brain to find the gentlest, most reassuring phrases
that would alarm her least and keep up her courage. But there was the
stark, hideous fact that could not be blinked or dodged, and when at
last his lagging steps returned, he was no nearer a solution of his
problem than before.
"I declare you sound like Tyke coming along the passage," Ruth laughed
merrily. "They say bad news travels fast. So your news must be good,
or you wouldn't be coming so slowly."
"I only wish you were right," he said, grasping at the opening. "But
to tell the truth my news isn't any too good. Oh, nothing to be
alarmed about," he added hastily, as he caught her stifled exclamation.
"A little loose earth seems to have come down the slope of the hill and
blocked up the entrance. I'll get to work at it and clear it out in a
jiffy."
He tried to throw a world of confidence into his tone, but it failed to
ring true. In the darkness he heard Ruth catch her breath.
"Let's go and see just how bad it is," was all she said, and Drew with
a chill in his heart, led the way.
"What is this dirt in here?" asked Ruth, as she stumbled over a mound
that Allen had thrown behind him in his frantic digging.
"Oh, that's some that I've dug out already," Allen replied with assumed
carelessness. "I just wanted to find out how hard the dirt was and
whether it would give way easily. It's fresh and soft and we'll get
the whole lot out of our way in no time."
He was about to start in again at the task when Ruth laid her hand upon
his arm.
"You didn't dig all this out in that minute you were away from me just
now," she said quietly. "You must have been working while I lay in
there unconscious. Come now, Allen, tell me the whole truth. Remember
that I am a sailor's daughter and am not afraid to face things, no
matter how bad they may be. The cave entrance is badly blocked up,
isn't it?"
"God bless your staunch, plucky heart, Ruth," blurted out Drew, his own
heart kindling at her courage. "You're one woman in a thousand, yes,
in a million. I might have known you'd face the truth without weeping
or hysterics. You're right about the landfall. I'm afraid it's a
heavy one. I've been digging at it for some time without making much
impression. But after all it's all guess-work and it may not be so
thick as it seems to be. We may let daylight through at any minute.
At any rate I'm going at it like a tiger. I worked hard before when I
thought I was alone, but now that I've got you to look out for I'll do
ten times as much. I've only begun to fight. We're just going to get
out of this and that's all there is about it."
"And I'll help you," cried Ruth.
"Not with those little hands," replied the man vehemently. "You just
stand back there and pray while I do the work."
"Those little hands, as you call them, are stronger than you think.
I'm going to work with all my might and help you out. And that won't
keep me from praying either. I guess the cave women used to work and
fight just about as much as the men, and I'm a cave woman now if I
never was before."
Again Drew sought to deter her, but she was determined and he had to
let her have her way. The only concession he could gain was to make
her put on a pair of buckskin gloves that dangled at his belt. They
were woefully large for her shapely hands and at any other time would
have furnished a subject for jesting. But nothing now was further from
their minds than laughter. They were engaged on a grim work of life or
death and both of them knew it.
But though brave, there was a limit to Ruth's physical strength, and
under such strenuous and unaccustomed effort it was not long before
that limit was reached. Drew discerned it coming before Ruth herself
would admit it.
He took her gently but firmly by both wrists and fairly compelled her
to sit down on one of the mounds, where he improvised a seat that
enabled her to rest her back against one side of the cave. Then he
returned to the work with redoubled vigor, tossing the dirt aside as
though he were a tireless steam shovel.
But though Ruth's body was resting, her mind was working actively,
darting hither and thither in an effort to find a way of escape from
their fearful predicament.
"Allen," she said, as he stopped for an instant to rest, "come here and
sit down beside me."
He had never hesitated before at accepting that coveted invitation, but
just now he wondered whether he ought to stop even for an instant. His
herculean efforts had brought him to the very edge of collapse, but he
was feverishly eager to keep on.
"Ought I, Ruth?" he questioned. "Every minute now is precious, you
know."
"I know it," she admitted, "but you'll drop dead from exhaustion if you
don't stop and rest. You must rest."
The gentle tyrant had her way and Drew yielded. He sat down beside
her, his chest contracting and expanding under the stress of his
labored breathing.
"Poor boy!" she said softly, and Drew thrilled at the sympathy in her
tone.
"I've been thinking, Allen, that perhaps we had better not rely
entirely on your digging for getting out of here," she continued.
"It's all a guess as to how thick that wall of earth and rock is, and
we may be using on it the strength that we need for other things. If
you had an implement of some kind it would be different. But with your
bare hands together with what little help I can give you it may be
impossible."
"Yes," he was forced to concede, "I can't go on forever. Sooner or
later my strength will give out. But what can we do but keep on
trying? I'd go raving mad if I didn't keep on taking the one little
chance we have."
"But is it the only chance we have?" she argued. "Did you bring your
revolver with you?"
For answer he took it out of his belt and put it in her hand.
"Have you any extra cartridges?" she asked.
"Not a single one, but the revolver itself is fully loaded. That's
just six we have to count on."
She was silent for a moment.
"There isn't any likelihood we'll have to use these for defending
ourselves," she said at length. "There doesn't seem to be any living
thing in this cave of which we need to be afraid. But, nevertheless,
suppose we keep two for emergencies. That would give us four to
experiment with, wouldn't it?"
"Experiment? How?" he inquired.
"I was thinking that perhaps father"--here her voice faltered a
little--"and Tyke might be somewhere in the neighborhood hunting for
us. If we should discharge the revolver they might possibly hear one
or more of the shots and get some idea of where we were. I know it's
only a forlorn hope, but we've got to try everything just now."
"It's a good idea!" exclaimed Drew, though he knew in his heart how
slender a chance it offered. "And in the meantime, I'll keep on
digging, so that if the shots aren't heard we won't be any worse off
anyway. You fire the four shots at intervals of a minute or two and
we'll see what happens."
He went savagely to work again and Ruth at short intervals discharged
the revolver. The noise and the echoes in that compressed space were
deafening and it certainly seemed as though the sound ought to
penetrate to the world outside.
But though they fairly held their breath as they listened for a
response, no answering sound penetrated from the outside into the
cavern, and their hearts sank as they realized that one more of their
few hopes had failed them.
"It's of no use," observed Ruth sadly, as she handed the weapon back to
Allen. "Either they didn't hear the shots, or, if they did, they
thought it was some sound made by the volcano. We'll have to try
something else."
Both were silent for a few moments, immersed in bitter thoughts that
were as black as the darkness that surrounded them.
"Can you ever forgive me, Ruth, for having gotten you into such a trap
as this?" he burst out suddenly.
"You didn't get me in it," protested Ruth. "I came in of my own
accord."
"I don't mean that," explained Drew. "But you tried to persuade me not
to enter the cave in the first place, and if I'd only had sense enough
to listen to you; we'd both of us be out in the sunlight at this
minute. Headstrong fool that I was!" he ended in an agony of self
condemnation.
"Now don't blame yourself a bit for that, Allen," said Ruth earnestly.
"You only did what you thought you ought to do, and ninety-nine times
out of a hundred no harm would have come of it."
"And it was our luck to strike the hundredth time," replied Drew
bitterly.
"Besides," said Ruth with a trifle of hesitation, "I think I'd have
been a little disappointed at the time if you had done as I asked. I'd
have felt that perhaps in your secret heart you did it apparently to
please me, but really because you were glad enough not to have to take
any chances of what you might meet in here."
Drew was somewhat puzzled at this bit of feminine psychology, but he
gathered some comfort from it, and this was perhaps after all the
result that Ruth was seeking.
"Do you notice, Allen, how fresh the air seems to be in here?" she
asked.
"I've been wondering at that," he answered. "To tell the truth my
worst fear has been that it would get too close and foul for us to
breathe. But it seems to be just as sweet now as it was at the
beginning."
"What do you suppose is the reason?"
"It must be that the cave is a little larger than it seems to be. It
seemed to be getting bigger and bigger as I went further into it. If
that is so, it accounts for the fact that the air supply has not yet
begun to be vitiated."
"But mayn't there be any other reason?" she asked.
"I can't think of any other," he answered. Then as a thought suddenly
struck him, he jumped as though he had been shot.
"Why didn't I think of that before?" he fairly shouted. "There may be
another entrance!"