The George Barr McCutcheon Megapack: 25 Classic Novels and Stories

by George Barr McCutcheon

  “With these savages as our only companions, worse than death a thousand times,” he groaned, starting to his feet with the vehemence of new despair. “Could anything be worse than the existence that lies before us?”

  “Yes,” she cried, arising, throwing back her shoulders and arms, lifting her face and breathing long draughts of the cool, pure air. “Yes! The existence that lies behind is worse than the one ahead. No life can be worse than the one from which I have escaped. Welcome, eternal solitude! Farewell, ambition, heart-pangs and the vain mockery of womanhood! To be free is heaven, no matter what the cost, Hugh.”

  “Do you mean that you would rather live here forever than go back to the old life?”

  “If I must stay here to be free, I am willing to live in this miserable village to the very end, rejoicing and not complaining.”

  “I never associated you with real unhappiness until you uttered that last sentence.”

  “I should not be selfish, though,” she said quickly. “You are so unhappy, you have lost so much. We are to be alone here in this land, Hugh, you and I, forever. I will prove to you that I am more than the frail, helpless woman that circumstances may seem to have shaped me, and you shall have from me all the aid and encouragement that a good, true woman can give. Sometimes I shall be despondent and regretful,—I can’t help it, I suppose—but I shall try with you to make the wilderness cheerful. Who knows but that we may be found by explorers within a month. Let us talk about our new subjects out there on the plain. How many of them are there in this village?”

  She won him from the despondency into which he was sinking, and, be it said to her credit, she did not allow him to feel from that time forth that she was aught but brave, confident and sustaining. She was a weak woman, and she knew that if once the strong man succumbed to despair she was utterly helpless.

  CHAPTER XXIV

  NEDRA

  The next month passed much more quickly than any previous month within the lives of the two castaways. Each day brought forth fresh novelties, new sensations, interesting discoveries. Her courage was an inspiration, a revelation to him. Despite the fact that their journeyings carried them into thick jungles where wild beasts abounded, she displayed no sign of fear. Jaunty, indifferent to danger, filled with an exhilaration that bespoke the real love for adventure common among English women, she traversed with him the forest land, the plains, the hills, the river, and, lastly, the very heart of the jungle. They were seldom apart from the time they arose in the morning until the hour when they separated at night to retire to their apartments.

  Exploration proved that they were on an island of considerable dimensions, perhaps twenty miles long and nearly as wide. The only human inhabitants were those in the village of Ridgehunt, as the new arrivals christened it,—combining the first syllables of their own names. From the tops of the great gate posts, christened by Lady Tennys, far across the water to the north, could be seen the shadowy outlines of another island. This was inhabited by a larger tribe than that which constituted the population of Ridgehunt.

  A deadly feud existed between the two tribes. There had been expeditions of war in the past, and for months the fighting men of Ridgehunt had been expecting an attack from the island of Oolooz. Nearly twenty miles of water separated the two islands. The attacking force would have to cover that distance in small craft. Shortly before the advent of the white people, King Pootoo’s men captured a small party of scouts who had stolen across the main on a tour of exploration. They were put to death on the night of the arrival in Ridgehunt. A traitor in their midst had betrayed the fact that Oolooz contemplated a grand assault before many weeks had gone. Guards stationed on the summits of the gate posts constantly watched the sea for the approach of the great flotilla from Oolooz. King Pootoo had long been preparing to resist the attack. There were at least five hundred able-bodied men in his band, and Hugh could not but feel a thrill of admiration as he looked upon the fierce, muscular warriors and their ugly weapons.

  He set about to drill them in certain military tactics, and they, believing him to be a god whom no enemy could overthrow, obeyed his slightest command. Under his direction breastworks were thrown up along the western hills, trenches were dug, and hundreds of huge boulders were carried to the summits overlooking the pass, through which the enemy must come in order to reach the only opening in the guerdon of the hills. It was his plan to roll these boulders from the steep crests into the narrow valley below just as the invaders charged through, wreaking not only disaster but disorder among them, no matter how large their force. There was really but one means of access by land to the rock-guarded region, and it was here that he worked the hardest during the fourth week of their stay among the savages.

  He was working for his own and her safety and freedom. In Ridgehunt they were idols; in the hands of the unknown foe their fate might be the cruel reverse. Pride in the man who was to lead their brown friends to victory swelled in the heart of the fair Briton, crowding back the occasional fear that he might be conquered or slain. She had settled upon the course to pursue in case there was a battle and her protector fell. A dagger made from the iron-like wood used by the natives in the manufacture of spears and knives hung on the wall of her room. When he died, so should she, by her own hand.

  Gradually they began to grasp the meaning of certain words in the native language. Hugh was able after many days to decide that the natives knew nothing of the outside world and, furthermore, that no ships came into that part of the sea on account of the immense number of hidden reefs. The island on which they had been cast bore a name which sounded so much like Nedra that they spelled it in that way. In course of time she christened the spots of interest about her. Her list of good English names for this utterly heathen community covered such places as Velvet Valley, Hamilton Hills, Shadburn Rapids, Ridgeway River, Veath Forest and others. Ridgeway gave name to the temple in which the natives paid homage to them. He called it Tennys Court.

  Her room in the remodelled temple was a source of great delight to Lady Tennys. It was furnished luxuriously. There were couches, pillows, tables, chairs, tiger-skin rugs, and—window curtains. A door opened into her newly constructed bath pool, and she had salt or fresh water, as she chose. The pool was deep and clay lined and her women attendants were models of the bath after a few days. She learned the language much easier than Hugh. He was highly edified when she told him that his new name was Izor—never uttered without touching the head to the ground. Her name was also Izor, but she blushed readily when he addressed her as Mrs. Izor—without the grand curtsey. The five spearmen were in reality priests, and they were called Mozzos. She also learned that the chief who found them on the rock was no other than the mighty King Pootoo and that he had fifty wives. She knew the names of her women, of many children and of the leading men in the village.

  The feeble sprout of Christianity was planted by this good British girl. It had appeared to be a hopeless task, but she began at the beginning and fought with Mercy as her lieutenant. Humanity was a stranger to these people when she found them, but she patiently sowed the seeds and hoped. A people capable of such idolatry as these poor wretches had shown themselves to be certainly could be led into almost any path of worship, she argued.

  Late in the afternoon of their thirty-third day on the island the white idol of Nedra swung lazily in her hammock, which was stretched from post to post beneath the awning. Two willowy maidens in simple brown were fanning her with huge palm leaves. She was the personification of pretty indolence. Her dreamy eyes were turned toward the river and there was a tender, eager longing in their depths. Hugh was off in the hills with his workmen and the hour had passed for him to emerge from the woodland on his way to the village.

  The shadows of night were beginning to settle upon the baking earth and a certain uneasiness was entering her bosom. Then she caught a glimpse of his figure in the distance. With his swarm of soldiers behind him he came from the forest and across the narrow lowlands toward the ri
ver. He steadfastly refused to be carried to and from the “fortifications” in the rude litter that had been constructed for him, a duplicate of which had been made for her. A native with a big white umbrella was constantly at his side and King Pootoo was in personal command of the workmen as “sub-boss.” Ridgeway jocosely characterized his hundred workmen as “Micks,” and they had become expert wielders of the wooden pick, shovel and crowbar. In the village there were the three hundred tired armorers who had worked all day among the hard saplings in the country miles to the south. It was their duty to make an inexhaustible supply of spears, swords, etc.

  As the American came up over the bank of the river Lady Tennys could not repress a smile of pride. The white grass trousers, the huge white hat, and the jaunty military carriage had become so familiar to her that she could almost feel his approach before he came into view. It was always the same confident, aggressive stride, the walk of the master.

  Although the sun had dropped behind the twin giants and the haze of the night was on, Hugh’s faithful attendant carried the umbrella over his head. The new Izor said, more than once, that, having taught the fellow to carry the protector, he could not unteach him. Were it darkest midnight the umbrella was produced and carried with as much serenity as when the sun broiled and toasted at midday. When the returning band of laborers was half way across Velvet Valley, Tennys, as was her wont, left her hammock and went forth to meet the man beneath the white sunshade. His pace quickened and his face brightened as she drew near. The hatless, graceful figure in white came up to him with the cry:

  “Why are you so late? Dinner has been waiting for an hour.”

  “Pshaw! And the cocoanuts are cold again,” he cried with mock concern. She took his arm and they trudged happily through the deep grass on which the never-failing dew was already settling. “But we have finished the fortifications. By George, if those Ooloozers get through that valley they’ll be fit to try conclusions with England and America combined. With four hundred men I can defend the pass against four thousand. Tomorrow I’ll take you over to see the defences. They’re great, Tennys.”

  She dampened his enthusiasm somewhat.

  “Won’t it be an awful joke if the enemy doesn’t come?”

  “Joke! It will be a calamity! I’d be tempted to organize a fleet and go over after them. By the way, I have something fine for you.”

  “A letter from home?” she cried laughingly. “One would think so from the important way in which you announce it. What is it?”

  “A pet—a wonder of a pet,” he said. “Hey! Jing-a-ling, or whatever your name is, bring that thing up here.” A native came running up from the rear bearing in his arms, a small, ugly cub, its eyes scarcely opened. She gave vent to a little shriek and drew back.

  “Ugh! The horrid thing! What is it?”

  “A baby leopard. He’s to be our house cat.”

  “Never! I never saw an uglier creature in my life. What a ponderous head, what mammoth feet, and what a miserably small body! Where are the spots?”

  “He gets ’em later, just as we get gray hairs—sign of old age, you know. And he outgrows the exaggerated extremities. In a few months he’ll be the prettiest thing you ever saw. You must teach him to stand on his head, jump through a hoop, tell fortunes and pick out the prettiest lady in the audience, and I’ll get you a position with a circus when we go to America. You’d be known on the bills as the Royal Izor of the Foofops and her trained leopard, the Only One in Captivity.”

  “You mean the only leopard, I presume,” she smiled.

  “Certainly not the only lady, for there are millions of them in that state.”

  They had their dinner by torchlight and then took their customary stroll through the village.

  “There seems to be no one in the world but you and I,” she said, a sudden loneliness coming over her.

  “What a paradise this would be for the lover who vows that very thing to the girl he loves.”

  “Do lovers mean all that they say?” she asked laughingly.

  “Very few know just what they say until it is too late. A test on an uncivilized island would bring reason to the doughtiest lover. There’s no sentiment in cold facts.”

  “I don’t see why two people, if they loved as you say they can love, should not be perfectly happy to live apart from the world. Do they not live only for each other?”

  “That’s before the test, you see.”

  “I have not found existence on this island altogether unendurable,” she went on. “I am not in love, I’m cure, yet I am surprised to find myself contented here with you. Then why should not lovers find this a real paradise, as you say?”

  “Would you be contented here with any other man as your companion?” he asked, his head suddenly swimming.

  “Oh, no!” she cried decisively. “I don’t believe I’d like it here with anybody but you. Now, don’t look like that! I’m not such a fool as you may be thinking, Hugh. I know the world pretty well. I know how other people love, even though it has never been part of my lot. I’m not quite a hypocrite. I was not presented at court for nothing. You see, you are so good and we are such friends. It never occurred to me before, but I’m sure I couldn’t endure being here with any other man I know. Isn’t it queer I never thought of that?” she asked, in real wonder.

  He looked at her steadily before answering. The flare of the torch revealed a childlike sincerity in her face, and he knew she did not realize the construction he might have been justified in according her impulsive confession. His heart throbbed silently. A wave of tenderness welled within him, bringing with it a longing to kiss the hem of her raiment, to touch her soft, black hair, to whisper gently in her ear, to clasp her hand, to do something fondly grateful.

  “Are you quite sure of that?” he asked softly. She looked up into his eyes honestly, frankly, unwaveringly, pressing his arm with a smile of enthusiasm.

  “Quite sure. Why not? Who could be better, more thoughtful, braver than you, and for the sake of a woman who, by mistake, owes her life to you? When you have done so much for me, why should I not say that you are the man I like best of all I know? It is strange, perhaps, that it should make any particular difference, but it seems to me no other man could inspire the feeling of resignation and contentment that you do. Really, it isn’t so hard to live in the wilderness, is it?”

  “Have you never known any one else with whom you could have been contented here?” he asked persistently.

  “Oh, I don’t know what other men would be like if they were in your place,” she said. She appeared deeply thoughtful for some time, as if trying to imagine others of her acquaintance in Hugh’s place. “I am sure I cannot imagine any one being just like you,” she went on, conclusively.

  “No one you may have loved?”

  “I have never loved anybody,” she cried.

  “Do you know what love means?”

  “I haven’t the faintest conception,” she laughed, mockingly.

  “I believe you said that to me some time ago,” he said.

  “I wish I could love,” she said lightly. “But I suppose the chance is forever lost if I am doomed to stay on this island all my life.”

  His smile was understood by the night.

  CHAPTER XXV

  THE COMING OF THE ENEMY

  A fever of queer emotions plagued Hugh’s mind as he sought sleep that night. He lay awake on his couch of skins for hours, striving to put from himself the delightful conviction that had presented itself so suddenly. Through all his efforts to convince himself that his impressions were the result of self-conceit or a too willing egotism, there persistently ran the tantalizing memory of her simple confession. When at last he slept it was to dream that a gentle hand was caressing his forehead and loving fingers were running through his hair. For a while the hand was Grace Vernon’s, then it was Tennys Huntingford’s, then Grace’s, then the other’s. Its touch brought a curve to his lips.

  While he lay awake in these wondering hou
rs and slept through the changing dream, the cause of his mingled emotions lay in the next apartment, peacefully asleep from the moment her head touched the pillow, totally unconscious of the minutest change in her heart or in their relationship, as contented as the night about her.

  The next morning he was speculatively quiet and she was brightly talkative as they ate breakfast. He was awake when she took her refreshing plunge in the pool, and heard her conversing learnedly with her attendants, as if they understood all that she said—which they did not. It was then that he thought what a solitude life would be if she were not a part, of it. There was nothing in her manner to indicate that she remembered their conversation of the night before. In fact, it was apparent that she was wholly unconscious of the impression it had made.

  Two of her white-robed attendants stood in the doorway while they ate, another industriously fanning them. The flowing white robes were innovations of the past few days, and their wearers were pictures of expressive resignation. Robes had been worn only by Mozzos prior to the revolution of customs inaugurated by the white Izor, and there was woeful tripping of brown feminine feet over treacherous folds.

  “Those ghastly gowns remind me that this is the day for our flag raising,” said he. “I guess the banner is strong enough to stand the winds that whistle around the tops of the gateposts, isn’t it?”

  Her thoughts reverted to the white signal that floated from the summit of the big mount at whose base they had been cast up from the sea. Hugh, having completed the meal, went to the end of the room, where, stretched along the wall, hung a huge American flag. Days had been consumed by the women in the manufacture of this piece of woven grass. He had created red stripes from an indelible berry stain. A blue background for the stars was ingeniously formed by cutting out spaces through which the sky could gleam. A strong pole lay on the floor and all was in readiness for the raising of the Stars and Stripes over the Island of Nedra. Their hope was that it might eventually meet the eye of some passing navigator.