by Louis Tracy
CHAPTER XIII
REALITY _V_. ROMANCE--THE CASE FOR THE DEFENDANT
Residents in tropical countries know that the heat is greatest, orcertainly least bearable, between two and four o'clock in theafternoon.
At the conclusion of a not very luscious repast, Jenks suggested thatthey should rig up the tarpaulin in such wise as to gain protectionfrom the sun and yet enable him to cast a watchful eye over the valley.Iris helped to raise the great canvas sheet on the supports he hadprepared. Once shut off from the devouring sun rays, the hot breezethen springing into fitful existence cooled their blistered butperspiring skin and made life somewhat tolerable.
Still adhering to his policy of combatting the first enervating attacksof thirst, the sailor sanctioned the consumption of the remainingwater. As a last desperate expedient, to be resorted to only in case ofsheer necessity, he uncorked a bottle of champagne and filled the tincup. The sparkling wine, with its volume of creamy foam, looked sotempting that Iris would then and there have risked its potency wereshe not promptly withheld.
Jenks explained to her that when the wine became quite flat and insipidthey might use it to moisten their parched lips. Even so, in theirpresent super-heated state, the liquor was unquestionably dangerous,but he hoped it would not harm them if taken in minute quantities.
Accustomed now to implicitly accept his advice, she fought and steadilyconquered the craving within her. Oddly enough, the "thawing" of theirscorched bodies beneath the tarpaulin brought a certain degree ofrelief. They were supremely uncomfortable, but that was as naughtcompared with the relaxation from the torments previously borne.
For a long time--the best part of an hour, perhaps--they remainedsilent.
The sailor was reviewing the pros and cons of their precariouscondition. It would, of course, be a matter of supreme importance werethe Indian to be faithful to his promise. Here the prospect wasdecidedly hopeful. The man was an old _sowar_, and the ex-officerof native cavalry knew how enduring was the attachment of this poorconvict to home and military service. Probably at that moment theMahommedan was praying to the Prophet and his two nephews to aid him inrescuing the sahib and the woman whom the sahib held so dear, for theall-wise and all-powerful Sirkar is very merciful to offending nativeswho thus condone their former crimes.
But, howsoever willing he might be, what could one man do among somany? The Dyaks were hostile to him in race and creed, and assuredlyinfuriated against the foreign devil who had killed or wounded, inround numbers, one-fifth of their total force. Very likely, the haplessMussulman would lose his life that night in attempting to bring waterto the foot of the rock.
Well, he, Jenks, might have something to say in that regard. Bymidnight the moon would illumine nearly the whole of Prospect Park. Ifthe Mahommedan were slain in front of the cavern his soul would travelto the next world attended by a Nizam's cohort of slaughtered slaves.
Even if the man succeeded in eluding the vigilance of his presentassociates, where was the water to come from? There was none on theisland save that in the well. In all likelihood the Dyaks had a storein the remaining sampans, but the native ally of the beleaguered pairwould have a task of exceeding difficulty in obtaining one of the jarsor skins containing it.
Again, granting all things went well that night, what would be thefinal outcome of the struggle? How long could Iris withstand theexposure, the strain, the heart-breaking misery of the rock? The futurewas blurred, crowded with ugly and affrighting fiends passing infantastic array before his vision, and mouthing dumb threats of madnessand death.
He shook restlessly, not aware that the girl's sorrowful glance,luminous with love and pain, was fixed upon him. Summarily dismissingthese grisly phantoms of the mind, he asked himself what the Mahommedanexactly meant by warning him against the trees on the right and the"silent death" that might come from them. He was about to crawl forthto the lip of the rock and investigate matters in that locality whenIris, who also was busy with her thoughts, restrained him.
"Wait a little while," she said. "None of the Dyaks will venture intothe open until night falls. And I have something to say to you."
There was a quiet solemnity in her voice that Jenks had never heardbefore. It chilled him. His heart acknowledged a quick sense of evilomen. He raised himself slightly and turned towards her. Her face,beautiful and serene beneath its disfigurements, wore an expression ofsettled purpose. For the life of him he dared not question her.
"That man, the interpreter," she said, "told you that if I were givenup to the chief, he and his followers would go away and molest you nomore."
His forehead seamed with sudden anger.
"A mere bait," he protested. "In any event it is hardly worthdiscussion."
And the answer came, clear and resolute--
"I think I will agree to those terms."
At first he regarded her with undisguised and wordless amazement. Thenthe appalling thought darted through his brain that she contemplatedthis supreme sacrifice in order to save him. A clammy sweat bedewed hisbrow, but by sheer will power he contrived to say--
"You must be mad to even dream of such a thing. Don't you understandwhat it means to you--and to me? It is a ruse to trap us. They areungoverned savages. Once they had you in their power they would laughat a promise made to me."
"You may be mistaken. They must have some sense of fair dealing. Evenassuming that such was their intention, they may depart from it. Theyhave already lost a great many men. Their chief, having gained his mainobject, might not be able to persuade them to take further risks. Iwill make it a part of the bargain that they first supply you withplenty of water. Then you, unaided, could keep them at bay for manydays. We lose nothing; we can gain a great deal by endeavoring topacify them."
"Iris!" he gasped, "what are you saying?"
The unexpected sound of her name on his lips almost unnerved her. Butno martyr ever went to the stake with more settled purpose than thispure woman, resolved to immolate herself for the sake of the man sheloved. He had dared all for her, faced death in many shapes. Now it washer turn. Her eyes were lit with a seraphic fire, her sweet faceresigned as that of an angel.
"I have thought it out," she murmured, gazing at him steadily, yetscarce seeing him. "It is worth trying as a last expedient. We areabandoned by all, save the Lord; and it does not appear to be His holywill to help us on earth. We can struggle on here until we die. Is thatright, when one of us may live?"
Her very candor had betrayed her. She would go away with thesemonstrous captors, endure them, even flatter them, until she and theywere far removed from the island. And then--she would kill herself. Inher innocence she imagined that self-destruction, under suchcircumstances, was a pardonable offence. She only gave a life to save alife, and greater love than this is not known to God or man.
The sailor, in a tempest of wrath and wild emotion, had it in his mindto compel her into reason, to shake her, as one shakes a wayward child.
He rose to his knees with this half-formed notion in his fevered brain.Then he looked at her, and a mist seemed to shut her out from hissight. Was she lost to him already? Was all that had gone before anidle dream of joy and grief, a wizard's glimpse of mirrored happinessand vague perils? Was Iris, the crystal-souled--thrown to him by thestorm-lashed waves--to be snatched away by some irresistible and maligninfluence?
In the mere physical effort to assure himself that she was still nearto him he gathered her up in his strong hands. Yes, she was there,breathing, wondering, palpitating. He folded her closely to his breast,and, yielding to the passionate longings of his tired heart, whisperedto her--
"My darling, do you think I can survive your loss? You are life itselfto me. If we have to die, sweet one, let us die together."
Then Iris flung her arms around his neck.
"I am quite, quite happy now," she sobbed brokenly. "Ididn't--imagine--it would come--this way, but--I am thankful--it hascome."
LOVE, TREMENDOUS IN ITS POWER, UNFATHOMABLE IN ITSMYSTERY, H
AD CAST ITS SPELL OVER THEM.]
For a little while they yielded to the glamour of the divine knowledgethat amidst the chaos of eternity each soul had found its mate. Therewas no need for words. Love, tremendous in its power, unfathomable inits mystery, had cast its spell over them. They were garbed in light,throned in a palace built by fairy hands. On all sides squatted theghouls of privation, misery, danger, even grim death; but they heedednot the Inferno; they had created a Paradise in an earthly hell.
Then Iris withdrew herself from the man's embrace. She was delightfullyshy and timid now.
"So you really do love me?" she whispered, crimson-faced, with shiningeyes and parted lips.
He drew her to him again and kissed her tenderly. For he had cast alldoubt to the winds. No matter what the future had in store she was his,his only; it was not in man's power to part them. A glorious effulgencedazzled his brain. Her love had given him the strength of Goliath, theconfidence of David. He would pluck her from the perils that environedher. The Dyak was not yet born who should rend her from him.
He fondled her hair and gently rubbed her cheek with his rough fingers.The sudden sense of ownership of this fair woman was entrancing. Italmost bewildered him to find Iris nestling close, clinging to him inutter confidence and trust.
"But I knew, I knew," she murmured. "You betrayed yourself so manytimes. You wrote your secret to me, and, though you did not tell me, Ifound your dear words on the sands, and have treasured them next myheart."
What girlish romance was this? He held her away gingerly, just so farthat he could look into her eyes.
"Oh, it is true, quite true," she cried, drawing the locket from herneck. "Don't you recognize your own handwriting, or were you notcertain, just then, that you really did love me?"
Dear, dear! How often would she repeat that wondrous phrase! Togetherthey bent over the tiny slips of paper. There it was again--"I loveyou"--twice blazoned in magic symbols. With blushing eagerness she toldhim how, by mere accident of course, she caught sight of her own name.It was not very wrong, was it, to pick up that tiny scrap, or thoseothers, which she could not help seeing, and which unfolded theirsimple tale so truthfully? Wrong! It was so delightfully right that hemust kiss her again to emphasize his convictions.
All this fondling and love-making had, of course, an air of grotesqueabsurdity because indulged in by two grimy and tattered individualscrouching beneath a tarpaulin on a rocky ledge, and surrounded bybloodthirsty savages intent on their destruction. Such incidentsrequire the setting of convention, the conservatory, with its wealth offlowers and plants, a summer wood, a Chippendale drawing-room. And yet,God wot, men and women have loved each other in this grey old worldwithout stopping to consider the appropriateness of place and season.
After a delicious pause Iris began again----
"Robert--I must call you Robert now--there, there, please let me get aword in even edgeways--well then, Robert dear, I do not care much whathappens now. I suppose it was very wicked and foolish of me to speak asI did before--before you called me Iris. Now tell me at once. Why didyou call me Iris?"
"You must propound that riddle to your godfather."
"No wriggling, please. Why did you do it?"
"Because I could not help myself. It slid out unawares."
"How long have you thought of me only as Iris, your Iris?"
"Ever since I first understood that somewhere in the wide world was adear woman to love me and be loved."
"But at one time you thought her name was Elizabeth?"
"A delusion, a mirage! That is why those who christened you had thewisdom of the gods."
Another interlude. They grew calmer, more sedate. It was so undeniablytrue they loved one another that the fact was becoming venerable withage. Iris was perhaps the first to recognize its quiet certainty.
"As I cannot get you to talk reasonably," she protested, "I must appealto your sympathy. I am hungry, and oh, so thirsty."
The girl had hardly eaten a morsel for her midday meal. Then she wasdespondent, utterly broken-hearted. Now she was filled with new hope.There was a fresh motive in existence. Whether destined to live an houror half a century, she would never, never leave him, nor, of course,could he ever, ever leave her. Some things were quite impossible--forexample, that they should part.
Jenks brought her a biscuit, a tin of meat, and that most doleful cupof champagne.
"It is not exactly _frappe_," he said, handing her the insipidbeverage, "but, under other conditions, it is a wine almost worthy totoast you in."
She fancied she had never before noticed what a charming smile he had.
"'Toast' is a peculiarly suitable word," she cried. "I am simplyfrizzling. In these warm clothes----"
She stopped. For the first time since that prehistoric period when shewas "Miss Deane" and he "Mr. Jenks" she remembered the manner of hergarments.
"It is not the warm clothing you feel so much as the want of air,"explained the sailor readily. "This tarpaulin has made the place verystuffy, but we must put up with it until sundown. By the way, what isthat?"
A light tap on the tarred canvas directly over his head had caught hisear. Iris, glad of the diversion, told him she had heard the noisethree or four times, but fancied it was caused by the occasionalrustling of the sheet on the uprights.
Jenks had not allowed his attention to wander altogether from externalevents. Since the Dyaks' last escapade there was no sign of them in thevalley or on either beach. Not for trivial cause would they come againwithin range of the Lee-Metfords.
They waited and listened silently. Another tap sounded on the tarpaulinin a different place, and they both concurred in the belief thatsomething had darted in curved flight over the ledge and fallen on topof their protecting shield.
"Let us see what the game is," exclaimed the sailor. He crept to theback of the ledge and drew himself up until he could reach over thesheet. He returned, carrying in his hand a couple of tiny arrows.
"There are no less than seven of these things sticking in the canvas,"he said. "They don't look very terrible. I suppose that is what myIndian friend meant by warning me against the trees on the right."
He did not tell Iris all the Mahommedan said. There was no need toalarm her causelessly. Even whilst they examined the curious littlemissile another flew up from the valley and lodged on the roof of theirshelter.
The shaft of the arrow, made of some extremely hard wood, was about teninches in length. Affixed to it was a pointed fish-bone, sharp, but notbarbed, and not fastened in a manner suggestive of much strength. Thearrow was neither feathered nor grooved for a bowstring. Altogether itseemed to be a childish weapon to be used by men equipped with lead andsteel.
Jenks could not understand the appearance of this toy. Evidently theDyaks believed in its efficacy, or they would not keep onpertinaciously dropping an arrow on the ledge.
"How do they fire it?" asked Iris. "Do they throw it?"
"I will soon tell you," he replied, reaching for a rifle.
"Do not go out yet," she entreated him. "They cannot harm us. Perhapswe may learn more by keeping quiet. They will not continue shootingthese things all day."
Again a tiny arrow traveled towards them in a graceful parabola. Thisone fell short. Missing the tarpaulin, it almost dropped on the girl'soutstretched hand. She picked it up. The fish-bone point had snapped bycontact with the floor of the ledge.
She sought for and found the small tip.
"See," she said. "It seems to have been dipped in something. It isquite discolored."
Jenks frowned peculiarly. A startling explanation had suggested itselfto him. Fragments of forgotten lore were taking cohesion in his mind.
"Put it down. Quick!" he cried.
Iris obeyed him, with wonder in her eyes. He spilled a teasponful ofchampagne into a small hollow of the rock and steeped one of thefish-bones in the liquid. Within a few seconds the champagne assumed agreenish tinge and the bone became white. Then he knew.
"Good Heavens
!" he exclaimed, "these are poisoned arrows shot through ablowpipe. I have never before seen one, but I have often read aboutthem. The bamboos the Dyaks carried were sumpitans. These fish-boneshave been steeped in the juice of the upas tree. Iris, my dear girl, ifone of them had so much as scratched your finger nothing on earth couldsave you."
She paled and drew back in sudden horror. This tiny thing had taken thesemblance of a snake. A vicious cobra cast at her feet would be lessalarming, for the reptile could be killed, whilst his venomous fangswould only be used in self-defence.
Another tap sounded on their thrice-welcome covering. Evidently theDyaks would persist in their efforts to get one of those poisoned dartshome.
Jenks debated silently whether it would be better to create acommotion, thus inducing the savages to believe they had succeeded ininflicting a mortal wound, or to wait until the next arrow fell, rushout, and try conclusions with Dum-dum bullets against the sumpitanblowers.
He decided in favor of the latter course. He wished to dishearten hisassailants, to cram down their throats the belief that he wasinvulnerable, and could visit their every effort with a deadlyreprisal.
Iris, of course, protested when he explained his project. But thefighting spirit prevailed. Their love idyll must yield to the needs ofthe hour.
He had not long to wait. The last arrow fell, and he sprang to theextreme right of the ledge. First he looked through that invaluablescreen of grass. Three Dyaks were on the ground, and a fourth in thefork of a tree. They were each armed with a blowpipe. He in the treewas just fitting an arrow into the bamboo tube. The others werewatching him.
Jenks raised his rifle, fired, and the warrior in the tree pitchedheadlong to the ground. A second shot stretched a companion on top ofhim. One man jumped into the bushes and got away, but the fourthtripped over his unwieldy sumpitan and a bullet tore a large sectionfrom his skull. The sailor then amused himself with breaking thebamboos by firing at them. He came back to the white-faced girl.
"I fancy that further practice with blowpipes will be at a discount onRainbow Island," he cried cheerfully.
But Iris was anxious and distrait.
"It is very sad," she said, "that we are obliged to secure our ownsafety by the ceaseless slaughter of human beings. Is there no offer wecan make them, no promise of future gain, to tempt them to abandonhostilities?"
"None whatever. These Borneo Dyaks are bred from infancy to prey ontheir fellow-creatures. To be strangers and defenceless is to courtpillage and massacre at their hands. I think no more of shooting themthan of smashing a clay pigeon. Killing a mad dog is perhaps a bettersimile."
"But, Robert dear, how long can we hold out?"
"What! Are you growing tired of me already?"
He hoped to divert her thoughts from this constantly recurring topic.Twice within the hour had it been broached and dismissed, but Iriswould not permit him to shirk it again. She made no reply, simplyregarding him with a wistful smile.
So Jenks sat down by her side, and rehearsed the hopes and fears whichperplexed him. He determined that there should be no furtherconcealment between them. If they failed to secure water that night, ifthe Dyaks maintained a strict siege of the rock throughout the whole ofnext day, well--they might survive--it was problematical. Best leavematters in God's hands.
With feminine persistency she clung to the subject, detecting hisunwillingness to discuss a possible final stage in their sufferings.
"Robert!" she whispered fearfully, "you will never let me fall into thepower of the chief, will you?"
"Not whilst I live."
"You _must_ live. Don't you understand? I would go with them tosave you. But I would have died--by my own hand. Robert, my love, youmust do this thing before the end. I must be the first to die."
He hung his head in a paroxysm of silent despair. Her words rung like atocsin of the bright romance conjured up by the avowal of their love.It seemed to him, in that instant, they had no separate existence asdistinguished from the great stream of human life--the turbulent riverthat flowed unceasingly from an eternity of the past to an eternity ofthe future. For a day, a year, a decade, two frail bubbles danced onthe surface and raced joyously together in the sunshine; then they werebroken--did it matter how, by savage sword or lingering ailment? Theyvanished--absorbed again by the rushing waters--and other bubbles rosein precarious iridescence. It was a fatalist view of life, a dim andobscurantist groping after truth induced by the overpowering nature ofpresent difficulties. The famous Tentmaker of Naishapur blindly soughtthe unending purpose when he wrote:--
"Up from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate I rose, and on the throne of Saturn sate, And many a Knot unravel'd by the Road; But not the Master-Knot of Human Fate.
"There was the Door to which I found no Key; There was the Veil through which I could not see: Some little talk awhile of Me and Thee There was--and then no more of Thee and Me."
The sailor, too, wrestled with the great problem. He may be pardoned ifhis heart quailed and he groaned aloud.
"Iris," he said solemnly, "whatever happens, unless I am struck dead atyour feet, I promise you that we shall pass the boundary hand in hand.Be mine the punishment if we have decided wrongly. And now," he cried,tossing his head in a defiant access of energy, "let us have done withthe morgue. For my part I refuse to acknowledge I am inside until thegates clang behind me. As for you, you cannot help yourself. You mustdo as I tell you. I never knew of a case where the question of Woman'sRights was so promptly settled."
His vitality was infectious. Iris smiled again. Her sensitive highlystrung nerves permitted these sharp alternations between despondencyand hope.
"You must remember," he went on, "that the Dyak score is twenty-one tothe bad, whilst our loss stands at love. Dear me, that cannot be right.Love is surely not a loss."
"A cynic might describe it as a negative gain."
"Oh, a cynic is no authority. He knows nothing whatever about thesubject."
"My father used to say, when he was in Parliament, that people who knewleast oft-times spoke best. Some men get overweighted with facts."
They chatted in lighter vein with such pendulum swing back tononchalance that none would have deemed it possible for these two tohave already determined the momentous issue of the pending struggleshould it go against them. There is, glory be, in the Anglo-Saxon racethe splendid faculty of meeting death with calm defiance, almost withcontempt. Moments of panic, agonizing memories of bygone days, visionsof dear faces never to be seen again, may temporarily dethrone thisproud fortitude. But the tremors pass, the gibbering specters of fearand lamentation are thrust aside, and the sons and daughters of GreatBritain answer the last roll-call with undaunted heroism. They know howto die.
And so the sun sank to rest in the sea, and the star, pierced thedeepening blue of the celestial arch, whilst the man and the womanawaited patiently the verdict of the fates.
Before the light failed, Jenks gathered all the poisoned arrows andground their vemoned points to powder beneath his heel. Gladly wouldIris and he have dispensed with the friendly protection of thetarpaulin when the cool evening breeze came from the south. But such athing might not be even considered. Several hours of darkness mustelapse before the moon rose, and during that period, were their foes sominded, they would be absolutely at the mercy of the sumpitan shafts ifnot covered by their impenetrable buckler.
The sailor looked long and earnestly at the well. Their own bucket,improvised out of a dish-cover and a rope, lay close to the brink. Astealthy crawl across the sandy valley, half a minute of grave danger,and he would be up the ladder again with enough water to serve theirimperative needs for days to come.
There was little or no risk in descending the rock. Soon after sunsetit was wrapped in deepest gloom, for night succeeds day in the tropicswith wondrous speed. The hazard lay in twice crossing the white sand,were any of the Dyaks hiding behind the house or among the trees.
He held no foolhardy view of his own powers
. The one-sided nature ofthe conflict thus far was due solely to his possession of Lee-Metfordsas opposed to muzzle-loaders. Let him be surrounded on the level atclose quarters by a dozen determined men and he must surely succumb.
Were it not for the presence of Iris he would have given no secondthought to the peril. It was just one of those undertakings which asoldier jumps at. "Here goes for the V.C. or Kingdom Come!" is thepithy philosophy of Thomas Atkins under such circumstances.
Now, there was no V.C., but there was Iris.
To act without consulting her was impossible, so they discussed theproject. Naturally she scouted it.
"The Mahommedan may be able to help us," she pointed out. "In any eventlet us wait until the moon wanes. That is the darkest hour. We do notknow what may happen meanwhile."
The words had hardly left her mouth when an irregular volley was firedat them from the right flank of the enemy's position. Every bulletstruck yards above their heads, the common failing of musketry at nightbeing to take too high an aim. But the impact of the missiles on a rockso highly impregnated with minerals caused sparks to fly, and Jenks sawthat the Dyaks would obtain by this means a most dangerous index oftheir faulty practice. Telling Iris to at once occupy her safe corner,he rapidly adjusted a rifle on the wooden rests already prepared inanticipation of an attack from that quarter, and fired three shots atthe opposing crest, whence came the majority of gun-flashes.
One, at least, of the three found a human billet. There was a shout ofsurprise and pain, and the next volley spurted from the ground level.This could do no damage owing to the angle, but he endeavored todisconcert the marksmen by keeping up a steady fire in their direction.He did not dream of attaining other than a moral effect, as there is alot of room to miss when aiming in the dark. Soon he imagined that theburst of flame from his rifle helped the Dyaks, because several bulletswhizzed close to his head, and about this time firing recommenced fromthe crest.
Notwithstanding all his skill and manipulation of the wooden supports,he failed to dislodge the occupants. Every minute one or more ounces oflead pitched right into the ledge, damaging the stores and tearing thetarpaulin, whilst those which struck the wall of rock were dangerous toIris by reason of the molten spray.
He could guess what had happened. By lying flat on the sloping plateau,or squeezing close to the projecting shoulder of the cliff, the Dyakswere so little exposed that idle chance alone would enable him to hitone of them. But they must be shifted, or this night bombardment wouldprove the most serious development yet encountered.
"Are you all right, Iris?" he called out.
"Yes, dear," she answered.
"Well, I want you to keep yourself covered by the canvas for a littlewhile--especially your head and shoulders. I am going to stop thesechaps. They have found our weak point, but I can baffle them."
She did not ask what he proposed to do. He heard the rustling of thetarpaulin as she pulled it. Instantly he cast loose the rope-ladder,and, armed only with a revolver, dropped down the rock. He was quiteinvisible to the enemy. On reaching the ground he listened for amoment. There was no sound save the occasional reports ninety yardsaway. He hitched up the lower rungs of the ladder until they were sixfeet from the level, and then crept noiselessly, close to the rock, forsome forty yards.
He halted beside a small poon-tree, and stooped to find somethingembedded near its roots. At this distance he could plainly hear themuttered conversation of the Dyaks, and could see several of them proneon the sand. The latter fact proved how fatal would be an attempt onhis part to reach the well. They must discover him instantly once hequitted the somber shadows of the cliff. He waited, perhaps a fewseconds longer than was necessary, endeavoring to pierce the dimatmosphere and learn something of their disposition.
A vigorous outburst of firing sent him back with haste. Iris was upthere alone. He knew not what might happen. He was now feverishlyanxious to be with her again, to hear her voice, and be sure that allwas well.
To his horror he found the ladder swaying gently against the rock. Someone was using it. He sprang forward, careless of consequence, andseized the swinging end which had fallen free again. He had his foot onthe bottom rung when Iris's voice, close at hand and shrill withterror, shrieked--
"Robert, where are you?"
"Here!" he shouted; the next instant she dropped into his arms.
A startled exclamation from the vicinity of the house, and some loudcries from the more distant Dyaks on the other side of Prospect Park,showed that they had been overheard.
"Up!" he whispered. "Hold tight, and go as quickly as you can."
"Not without you!"
"Up, for God's sake! I follow at your heels."
She began to climb. He took some article from between his teeth, astring apparently, and drew it towards him, mounting the ladder at thesame time. The end tightened. He was then about ten feet from theground. Two Dyaks, yelling fiercely, rushed from the cover of thehouse.
"Go on," he said to Iris. "Don't lose your nerve whatever happens. I amclose behind you."
"I am quite safe," she gasped.
Turning, and clinging on with one hand, he drew his revolver and firedat the pair beneath, who could now faintly discern them, and werealmost within reach of the ladder. The shooting made them halt. He didnot know or care if they were hit. To frighten them was sufficient.Several others were running across the sands to the cave, attracted bythe noise and the cries of the foremost pursuers.
Then he gave a steady pull to the cord. The sharp crack of a rifle camefrom the vicinity of the old quarry. He saw the flash among the trees.Almost simultaneously a bright light leapt from the opposite ledge,illumining the vicinity like a meteor. It lit up the rock, showed Irisjust vanishing into the safety of the ledge, and revealed Jenks and theDyaks to each other. There followed instantly a tremendous explosionthat shook earth and air, dislodging every loose stone in thesouth-west pile of rocks, hurling from the plateau some of itsoccupants, and wounding the remainder with a shower of lead and debris.
The island birds, long since driven to the remote trees, clamored inraucous peal, and from the Dyaks came yells of fright or anguish.
The sailor, unmolested further, reached the ledge to find Irisprostrate where she had fallen, dead or unconscious, he knew not which.He felt his face become grey in the darkness. With a fierce tug hehauled the ladder well away from the ground and sank to his kneesbeside her.
He took her into his arms. There was no light. He could not see hereyes or lips. Her slight breathing seemed to indicate a fainting fit,but there was no water, nor was it possible to adopt any of theordinary expedients suited to such a seizure. He could only wait in adreadful silence--wait, clasping her to his breast--and dumbly wonderwhat other loss he could suffer ere the final release came.
At last she sighed deeply. A strong tremor of returning life stirredher frame.
"Thank God!" he murmured, and bowed his head. Were the sun shining hecould not see her now, for his eyes were blurred.
"Robert!" she whispered.
"Yes, darling."
"Are you safe?"
"Safe! my loved one! Think of yourself! What has happened to you?"
"I fainted--I think. I have no hurt. I missed you! Something told meyou had gone. I went to help you, or die with you. And then that noise!And the light! What did you do?"
He silenced her questioning with a passionate kiss. He carried her to alittle nook and fumbled among the stores until he found a bottle ofbrandy. She drank some. Under its revivifying influence she was soonable to listen to the explanation he offered--after securing theladder.
In a tall tree near the Valley of Death he had tightly fixed a loadedrifle which pointed at a loose stone in the rock overhanging the ledgeheld by the Dyaks. This stone rested against a number of percussioncaps extracted from cartridges, and these were in direct communicationwith a train of powder leading to a blasting charge placed at the endof a twenty-four inch hole drilled with a crowbar. The impact of thebullet
against the stone could not fail to explode some of the caps. Hehad used the contents of three hundred cartridges to secure asufficiency of powder, and the bullets were all crammed into theorifice, being tamped with clay and wet sand. The rifle was fired bymeans of the string, the loose coils of which were secreted at the footof the poon. By springing this novel mine he had effectually removedevery Dyak from the ledge, over which its contents would spread like afan. Further, it would probably deter the survivors from againventuring near that fatal spot.
Iris listened, only half comprehending. Her mind was filled with onethought to the exclusion of all others. Robert had left her, had donethis thing without telling her. She forgave him, knowing he acted forthe best, but he must never, never deceive her again in such a manner.She could not bear it.
What better excuse could man desire for caressing her, yea, evensqueezing her, until the sobs ceased and she protested with a weaklittle laugh----
"Robert, I haven't got much breath--after that excitement--butplease--leave me--the remains!"