LONG HOURS OF DOUBT
Grenville had hoped to be able to hasten for a moment up the gallery
and assure Elaine that all was well, and the matter now merely one of
patience.
His belated discovery that one of his fuses was deficient had somewhat
shaken his nerves. Except for this timely restoration, his whole
project must have been weakened, perhaps to absolute failure. His line
of fuse was necessarily long, to assure essential safety for himself.
He was obsessed with a fear that countless defects might have developed
in the long line of powder-loaded creeper since the day it was made and
laid away.
In a fever of anxious searching, he examined practically every inch of
both the lines, meantime returning frequently to the cavern's mouth, to
guard against surprise. Before he felt certain the fuse could all be
relied upon to perform its part in the business, he finally detected a
Dyak boat attempting to go about and escape his possible observation
from the dark retreat, while obviously hovering near, to watch that he
did not escape.
After that he dared not for a moment desert his post. And the longer
the expected Dyaks remained away, the more imperative became his
watchfulness and constant attendance at the cave.
Meanwhile, up at her flimsy door, Elaine leaned affrightedly against
the chilling wall, no longer peering forth at the chink, but tensely
listening--listening for the sounds of feet above her head. All four
of the Dyaks were there on the terrace, and, therefore, a few rods only
from the passage in which she crouched, alone.
There was nothing to see, save the platform and part of the trail, and
she dared not stand so close to the door, lest her very breathing, or
the beat of her heart, betray her presence at her post.
When at length the unmistakable sound of beings on the rocks directly
overhead came dully down through the roof of pitted stone, she shrank
entirely down to the floor, her heart in a sickening flutter. Just to
have cried out Sidney's name and to run like a child down the passage
to his arms, would have been a relief so incredibly vast its comfort
could not have been measured.
But she did not move. She still obeyed, like the faithful comrade in
arms she was, awaiting her portion, allotted by the Fates, though it
might be death in its most revolting form.
What sounds were made by the Dyaks, in retreat from that particular
position, failed to come down through the rock. She was, therefore,
denied the abatement of her apprehension which she might otherwise have
known. She was thoroughly convinced that one of the fiends had been
posted above the passage opening to remain indefinitely on guard.
The Dyaks had, however, concluded their examination of the terrace
rather promptly. There was almost nothing worth investigation.
Grenville's imitation cannon had served its purpose to perfection. The
head-hunters marveled that a gun so simply and readily constructed
could have wrought such havoc in their ranks. But they found no reason
to doubt it had been used, and they readily overlooked the small brass
piece so artfully hidden by the stones.
They had lost no time in removing the bowlders that supported Sidney's
ladder. One or two only they suffered to remain--sufficient to anchor
the affair in place, yet permit their man to drop back in the tide,
should he intrust his weight to it.
That the white man's powder magazine had been greatly diminished before
their flaming arrows completed its destruction seemed indisputable.
The bombs had torn out and blackened so much of a cavity that the
Dyaks' gratification was complete. It was scarcely possible, they
argued, that the man seen running crazily about had escaped a mortal
hurt. He had certainly summoned the strength to escape to the cave,
but there he might have died.
All the waste sections of Sidney's bamboo were thrown with his cannon
and his flag-pole in the sea. A thorough search was made of Elaine's
former shelter, as well as of all the rock heaps on the place, for the
treasure the man might have taken from the cave and concealed about his
camp.
Not until some time after noon did the visitors finally leave the hill
and disappear in the jungle growth to mature their further plans.
Elaine knew nothing of their departure. She still remained back in the
darkness of the gallery, and, therefore, neither heard nor saw the
movements made on the ledge. She was hardly less prepared than before
to see the door of the gallery rudely torn away at any moment, and the
hideous head-hunters confidently pouncing in upon her.
Grenville, down in the blackness of the cavern, was hardly more easy in
his mind. The Dyaks had failed to appear before the cave. He realized
they might conclude to starve him to death in the tomb-like place,
rather than risk another of his traps. To return to the terrace was
out of the question. Not only might the natives be present, but, if
once he were seen, they must immediately realize he had some unknown
means of passage from the cave to the summit.
That the ladder would be watched he was certain. It was also more than
likely, he was sure, the Dyaks would either cut through the strands to
weaken it, near the top, or displace the rocks he had heaped upon its
end. Reflecting that to pull it down while one of their craft was
cruising about the headland might convince them he had fallen in the
sea, he laid his platform out on the ledge for the purpose before the
terrace had been deserted. But the boat was not to be seen.
At noon the sun beat down on the rocks about the cave with a hot,
intolerable glare. Grenville was weary, as well as thirsty once more,
and faint from lack of food. He dared not abandon the cavern now,
however, since any moment might find the Dyaks slipping to the open
niche to complete the deed they had vainly attempted before.
Never had the long, sultry hours of afternoon dragged by more
tediously. Never had the man so vividly realized how much it meant to
be near Elaine, to hear her voice, to gaze in the depths of her eyes.
It was not till the sun was about to set that his long, impatient vigil
was somewhat rewarded at last. The Dyak boat drifted barely in sight,
as he crouched there on the shattered ledge.
Without a moment's hesitation, even as he saw that the craft was
beating back, as before, to the shelter behind the cliff, he ran out
his platform, dropped its end across a rung of the ladder, and cast a
heavy stone as far out upon it as possible.
It hung there, solidly enough, for a moment, then slipped a foot--and
abruptly the whole writhing length came down, to land in the whirlpool
and sink. The platform, however, was recovered. Returning at once to
his place behind the wall, Sidney waited in new expectancy for the
Dyaks to appear.
They did not come. The sun went down--and with it Grenville's hope.
The head-hunters feared him still! They must have determined some
trick was prepared against their invasion of the cave! He was utterly
sick with discouragement. His long, hard day, to say nothing of
Elaine's, had been spent like this, in vain. He felt he had merely
lost ground. The Dyaks were doubtless already in possession of the
terrace, where he could not attack them to advantage, since precisely
as soon as he made his appearance on the hill-top the passage must be
revealed.
He clung to the hope that dusk would bring the murderous pack to his
stand--that they might have waited for darkness to sneak upon him
unawares. But the twilight faded into blackest night, with clouds
obscuring the friendly stars, and still no head-hunters came.
When at length he was certain no native would dare intrust himself or
his boat to the treacherous maelstrom of the niche, he abandoned hope
for the night. Returning to the passageway, he closed its door behind
him, secured it with the bar, and groped his way upward through the
velvet gloom for a word of cheer with Elaine.
He called to her softly as he came towards the top, and she hastened
down to meet him. She was certain something had gone amiss, but her
courage was sufficient to sustain almost anything, so long as she knew
he was safe.
"Got a bit hungry," he told her, off-handedly. "Those chaps do keep
one waiting!"
"Sh-s-s-sh!" she said, in a warning whisper; "I think they're just
outside."
"You saw them come up?" he asked her, eagerly.
"Four of them--after you fired the bombs. They put a bridge across the
hole, as you thought, perhaps, they might."
"H'm," said Sidney, quietly, going to the door and peering forth on the
jungle. "They haven't gone down since?"
"Not that I saw. I wasn't watching all the while."
"You haven't heard them talking, near the door?"
"No, oh no! I haven't heard a thing! I haven't known what to do--or
whether you were alive or dead. I didn't know what my duty was when I
saw them come up, and wanted to fire the cannon! I thought the day
would never end! Have you had to give up at last?"
"Certainly not!" he assured her, cheerfully, aware from every accent of
her voice what tortures she had suffered there alone. "I must soon
return--and you must go to bed. I haven't the slightest idea they will
come before next high tide, about eight, or later, in the morning.
Meantime you did exactly right. They haven't the slightest notion of
this secret passage, you may be sure, or nothing on earth could have
kept them out. And they long since returned to their boats.... I
suppose you have had neither food nor water. A little hurried supper
for us both, and I must go down to the basement for the night."
Elaine had removed the cord from her arm, and secured it by the door.
Sidney ignited a slender piece of torch-wood, by the smoldering brands
maintained in the upper passage. He carried it promptly around the
angle of the gallery, however, as an added precaution against the
escape of one revealing beam through the chink that pierced the barrier
facing the jungle world.
The dinner they ate was neither warm nor comforting. Cold fish is
barely sustaining, while the tonic properties of water are scarcely
worth describing. Elaine, however, was enormously reheartened, thus to
have Sidney there again, and know he had suffered no hurt. She bade
him good-night when their meager repast was finished, with the bravest
cheer that Grenville had taken to heart for many a weary day. Then,
with the cord once more on her arm, she resumed her place by the door.