An Adventure
To give Madame Bertier her dues, it was she who suggested the
wild-flower ramble upon the cliffs. It was for seniors only, and it had
the immense advantage, in schoolgirl eyes, that it was held upon a
Thursday afternoon; Madame had urged Thursday and stuck to the point.
"It was real sporty of her," chortled Patsie. "Miss Kingsley or Miss
Janet always try to fix up rambles or things of that kind for Saturdays,
and then it's taking away a holiday instead of giving us one. We've all
generally got something on at home for Saturday afternoons, and though,
of course, we like rambles all right, it isn't quite good enough to have
to throw up our home engagements for them. Three cheers for Madame!"
"Bless her!" murmured Audrey, ecstatically. "We shall miss French on
Thursday afternoon and I hadn't done a single line of my exercise or
learnt my poetry. It's moved a weight from my mind."
"Don't congratulate yourself too soon, old sport! She'll probably tell
us to give in the exercises."
"Well, she can't hear the poetry at any rate."
"Unless she makes us say it on the cliffs!"
"Oh, surely there won't be time for that?"
"Um--I don't know! Never trust a teacher to give one a _real_ holiday!
Miss Janet always tries to 'combine instruction with amusement', as the
old-fashioned children's books used to put it. Madame will probably try
to teach us the French names of the flowers at any rate."
"Perhaps she doesn't know them!" said Audrey hopefully.
There were eighteen seniors in the school, and on the Thursday in
question they were all ready by half-past two, armed with baskets or tin
cases in which to put their flowers. Their exodus was watched with envy
by the juniors, who had appealed in vain to be allowed to join the
excursion.
"Eighteen are quite a big enough party to keep together," decreed Miss
Kingsley, "and you juniors had an aquarium expedition only last week."
"But that was on a Saturday!" objected a valiant spirit, anxious to
obtain a Thursday holiday.
Miss Kingsley, however, couldn't or wouldn't see the point, and withered
the speaker with an extra-scholastic glare.
The elder girls were not at all sorry to be going alone. They clung to
their privileges as seniors most tenaciously.
"We don't want the whole rag-tag and bobtail of the school trailing
after us," said Dorothy. "It's quite enough in my opinion to include the
Fifth. I hate marching about in a troop, like trippers."
"Well, we can spread out when we get on to the cliffs. There's no need
to be so fearfully particular to keep together."
Madame Bertier, among her many other accomplishments, possessed some
knowledge of botany. She had studied the wild flora of the district, and
knew where to take the girls to secure a variety of the best specimens.
The walk she chose was down a lane, over some fields and across a
portion of the moor, where Lorraine, who thought she knew all the
neighbourhood of Porthkeverne, had never happened to go before. As in
most rambles of the sort, it was a difficult task for the mistress to
keep all the members of her flock in sight. Some were always on ahead,
and others lagging behind, while a few would make detours over gates or
banks in quest of particular specimens. There was the usual amount of
jodelling, cuckooing and calling, and running back to fetch laggers;
there was frantic excitement over a patch of wild strawberries, and
great congratulation when several rare flowers were found and carefully
put away in tin cases. As generally happens in natural history rambles,
there was decided rivalry among the numerous budding botanists. Each
wanted to be the first to secure a new specimen and to take it in
triumph to show to Madame. Lorraine, who was not superior to the common
weakness, had not yet had any luck at all. Seeing the others heading in
a bee-line for a small tower on the hill, and, knowing she could catch
them up there, she determined to branch off to the left, cross a dyke
and go by herself over a particularly interesting-looking piece of the
moor. If she were quick she would probably reach the tower as soon as
most of the others; they would be sure to sit down there to rest and
compare specimens. She would have asked Claudia to go with her, but
Claudia was on in front talking to Dorothy.
"If I jodel to her it will give the show away," thought Lorraine. "No! I
must do it on my own."
So she jumped a dyke, scrambled down a bank, and in a few minutes had
reached a tract of wild heather-clad land that adjoined the cliff. Small
bushes, bracken, and brambles mixed among the heather made walking
difficult, and there were several boggy places which she was obliged to
skirt. This took her farther than she had intended. Looking round she
could not see her landmark, the tower.
"It must be over there to the right," she said to herself. "Hallo, what
a gorgeous silver fritillary! I'll get it if I possibly can."
Lorraine was rather keen on entomology, and though she had no net with
her, she pulled off her hat and ran in eager pursuit of the butterfly.
It was an exciting chase, several times she nearly secured it, but it
managed to elude her and flitted tantalizingly away. At last it paused
and hovered, then settled on a spray of wild rose. Lorraine crept up
stealthily, hat in hand. Surely she had her prize now? But just at the
critical moment, again the lovely wings fluttered; she made a grab and a
dash forward simultaneously, then suddenly the earth seemed to open and
swallow her up.
As a matter of fact, she fell about nine feet, and lodged on a heap of
shale. It was so totally unexpected, and so amazing, that she lay there
for a moment or two almost stunned. Then she moved cautiously and sat
up. She realized what had happened. In her mad rush after the butterfly
she had not noticed where she was going, and she had fallen down the
shaft of an old tin-mine. Above her were its rocky sides, with bushes
and a patch of blue sky at the top. Below the ledge where she sat it
sloped away towards a black hole. Lorraine, still a little dazed,
shuddered as she looked down in the direction of that dark pit. She was
unhurt, and she was safe enough on the edge of the shale, but how was
she to get up to the level of the ground above? The sides of the shaft
were far too steep to climb, and a slip might mean a plunge down, down,
down into that horrible depth that loomed below.
She stood up cautiously and shouted with all the force of her lungs.
There was no reply. Again and again she called, but beyond the
alarm-note of a blackbird there was no response. She began to grow
seriously frightened. She must be some distance from the tower, and she
had wandered from the rest of the party. Suppose nobody heard her
calling? The bare idea sent her breath in gasps. In time, no doubt, they
would notice her absence, but they would not exactly know where to
search for her. They might even imagine that she had gone home. Suppose
the night came on before she was found? Suppose even days were to pass
and nobody remembered the disused mine or thought of looking for her
there! With white cheeks and trembling hand she leaned against the side
of the shaft and called with what breath she could still muster.
There was a rustling among the heather above, and a face suddenly
blocked the blue of the sky--a vacant face that peered down with the
curiosity of a child. Lorraine gave a fluttering cry of relief.
"Landry!" she called. "Landry!"
How or from where he appeared she could not guess, though it was
possible that he had seen the school passing near Windy Howe and had
followed Claudia in the distance. He stared down at Lorraine with a
certain amount of interest, but as much unconcern as if she were a bird
or a rabbit.
"Landry!" she cried again. "Claudia is up by the tower. Go and tell her
I have fallen down the old mine!"
The bushes rustled, and once more that patch of blue sky appeared
above. Landry had gone indeed, but would he bring help? Lorraine feared
that all he cared about was to find Claudia, and that with his customary
taciturnity it was quite within the bounds of possibility that he might
never mention her predicament at all.
[Illustration: SHE STOOD UP CAUTIOUSLY]
She waited a while and then shouted, and kept on calling at intervals.
Her wrist watch told her she had been nearly an hour down the shaft.
Would help never come? She was very tired and her head swam. If she were
to faint, nothing could save her from falling down into that black gulf
below. Her voice was growing weaker. It seemed stifled inside the shaft.
What was that sound in the distance? Surely a shout! With all her
remaining energy she raised her voice in a wild halloo. Next moment
Dorothy peeped over the bushes and turned with a cry to summon Claudia.
Though she was found, it was more than an hour before adequate help
could be fetched from a farm, but at last two men appeared carrying a
ladder, which they lowered down the shaft on to the ledge of shale. Then
one of them descended and helped Lorraine to mount. Madame and a
thrilled group of girls were waiting for her at the top.
"Did Landry tell you?" Lorraine asked Claudia.
"Yes, he told me and brought me to the place," said Claudia. "Landry may
be very proud of himself to-day, the dear boy!"
"That mine did ought to be fenced round," remarked one of the men who
had brought the ladder. "Mr. Tremayne's been warned about it many a
time, but he's always put off having it done."
"Ah yes, it must be fenced!" exclaimed Madame, hysterically. "_Mon
élève!_ If she had fallen a little farther, what then?"
The man shrugged his shoulders, but Lorraine, who had been sitting on
the grass, sprang to her feet.
"_Don't!_" she implored. "_Don't_ please say any more about it. I want
to get away from the place. I know I shall dream it over again all
night! Let me go straight home. I don't want to get any more flowers. I
want just to be quiet and forget about it if I can."