The Hunted Woman

by James Oliver Curwood

  CHAPTER XIX

  Joanne's white lips spoke first.

  "The tunnel is closed!" she whispered.

  Her voice was strange. It was not Joanne's voice. It was unreal, terrible,and her eyes were terrible as they looked steadily into his. Aldous couldnot answer; something had thickened in his throat, and his blood ran coldas he stared into Joanne's dead-white face and saw the understanding in hereyes. For a space he could not move, and then, as suddenly as it had fallenupon him, the effect of the shock passed away.

  "The tunnel is closed," she whispered.... "That means wehave just forty-five minutes to live.... Let us not lie to one another."]

  He smiled, and put out a hand to her.

  "A slide of rock has fallen over the mouth of the tunnel," he said, forcinghimself to speak as if it meant little or nothing. "Hold the lantern,Joanne, while I get busy."

  "A slide of rock," she repeated after him dumbly.

  She took the lantern, her eyes still looking at him in that stricken way,and with his naked hands John Aldous set to work. Five minutes and he knewthat it was madness to continue. Hands alone could not clear the tunnel.And yet he worked, tearing into the rock and shale like an animal; rollingback small boulders, straining at larger ones until the tendons of his armsseemed ready to snap and his veins to burst. For a few minutes after thathe went mad. His muscles cracked, he panted as he fought with the rockuntil his hands were torn and bleeding, and over and over again there ranthrough his head Blackton's last words--_Four o'clock this afternoon!--Fouro'clock this afternoon!_

  Then he came to what he knew he would reach very soon, a solid wall! Rockand shale and earth were packed as if by battering rams. For a few momentshe fought to control himself before facing Joanne. Over him swept the grimrealization that his last fight must be for her. He steadied himself, andwiped the dust and grime from his face with his handkerchief. For the lasttime he swallowed hard. His soul rose within him almost joyously now in theface of this last great fight, and he turned--John Aldous, the super-man.There was no trace of fear in his face as he went to her. He was evensmiling in that ghostly glow of the lantern.

  "It is hard work, Joanne."

  She did not seem to hear what he had said. She was looking at his hands.She held the lantern nearer.

  "Your hands are bleeding, John!"

  It was the first time she had spoken his name like that, and he wasthrilled by the calmness of her voice, the untrembling gentleness of herhand as it touched his hand. From his bruised and bleeding flesh she raisedher eyes to him, and they were no longer the dumb, horrified eyes he hadgazed into fifteen minutes before. In the wonder of it he stood silent, andthe moment was weighted with an appalling silence.

  It came to them both in that instant--the _tick-tick-tick_ of the watch inhis pocket!

  Without taking her eyes from his face she asked:

  "What time is it. John?"

  "Joanne----"

  "I am not afraid," she whispered. "I was afraid this afternoon, but I amnot afraid now. What time is it, John?"

  "My God--they'll dig us out!" he cried wildly. "Joanne, you don't thinkthey won't dig us out, do you? Why, that's impossible! The slide hascovered the wires. They've got to dig us out! There is no danger--none atall. Only it's chilly, and uncomfortable, and I'm afraid you'll take cold!"

  "What time is it?" she repeated softly.

  For a moment he looked steadily at her, and his heart leaped when he sawthat she must believe him, for though her face was as white as an ivorycross she was smiling at him--yes! she was smiling at him in that gray andghastly death-gloom of the cavern!

  He brought out his watch, and in the lantern-glow they looked at it.

  "A quarter after three," he said. "By four o'clock they will be atwork--Blackton and twenty men. They will have us out in time for supper."

  "A quarter after three," repeated Joanne, and the words came steadily fromher lips. "That means----"

  He waited.

  "_We have forty-five minutes in which to live!_" she said.

  Before he could speak she had thrust the lantern into his hand, and hadseized his other hand in both her own.

  "If there are only forty-five minutes let us not lie to one another," shesaid, and her voice was very close. "I know why you are doing it, JohnAldous. It is for me. You have done a great deal for me in these two daysin which one 'can be born, and live, and die.' But in these last minutesI do not want you to act what I know cannot be the truth. You know--and Iknow. The wires are laid to the battery rock. There is no hope. At fouro'clock--we both know what will happen. And I--am not afraid."

  She heard him choking for speech. In a moment he said:

  "There are other lanterns--Joanne. I saw them when I was looking for thescarf. I will light them."

  He found two lanterns hanging against the rock wall. He lighted them, andthe half-burned candle.

  "It is pleasanter," she said.

  She stood in the glow of them when he turned to her, tall, and straight,and as beautiful as an angel. Her lips were pale; the last drop of bloodhad ebbed from her face; but there was something glorious in the poise ofher head, and in the wistful gentleness of her mouth and the light in hereyes. And then, slowly, as he stood looking with a face torn in its agonyfor her, she held out her arms.

  "John--John Aldous----"

  "Joanne! Oh, my God!--Joanne!"

  She swayed as he sprang to her, but she was smiling--smiling in that newand wonderful way as her arms reached out to him, and the words he heardher say came low and sobbing:

  "John--John, if you want to, now--you can tell me that my hair isbeautiful!"

  And then she was in his arms, her warm, sweet body crushed close to him,her face lifted to him, her soft hands stroking his face, and over and overagain she was speaking his name while from out of his soul there rushedforth the mighty flood of his great love; and he held her there, forgetfulof time now, forgetful of death itself; and he kissed her tender lips, herhair, her eyes--conscious only that in the hour of death he had found life,that her hands were stroking his face, and caressing his hair, and thatover and over again she was whispering sobbingly his name, and that sheloved him. The pressure of her hands against his breast at last made himfree her. And now, truly, she was glorious. For the triumph of love hadoverridden the despair of death, and her face was flooded with its colourand in her eyes was its glory.

  And then, as they stood there, a step between them, there came--almost likethe benediction of a cathedral bell--the soft, low tinkling chime of thehalf-hour bell in Aldous' watch!

  It struck him like a blow. Every muscle in him became like rigid iron, andhis torn hands clenched tightly at his sides.

  "Joanne--Joanne, it is impossible!" he cried huskily, and he had her closein his arms again, even as her face was whitening in the lantern-glow. "Ihave lived for you, I have waited for you--all these years you have beencoming, coming, coming to me--and now that you are mine--_mine_--it isimpossible! It cannot happen----"

  He freed her again, and caught up a lantern. Foot by foot he examined thepacked tunnel. It was solid--not a crevice or a break through which mighthave travelled the sound of his voice or the explosion of a gun. He did notshout. He knew that it would be hopeless, and that his voice would beterrifying in that sepulchral tomb. Was it possible that there might besome other opening--a possible exit--in that mountain wall? With thelantern in his hand he searched. There was no break. He came back toJoanne. She was standing where he had left her. And suddenly, as he lookedat her, all fear went out of him, and he put down the lantern and went toher.

  "Joanne," he whispered, holding her two hands against his breast, "you arenot afraid?"

  "No, I am not afraid."

  "And you know----"

  "Yes, I know," and she leaned forward so that her head lay partly againsttheir clasped hands and partly upon his breast.

  "And you love me, Joanne?"

  "As I never dreamed that I should love a man, John Aldous," she whispered.
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  "And yet it has been but two days----"

  "And I have lived an eternity," he heard her lips speak softly.

  "You would be my wife?"

  "Yes."

  "To-morrow?"

  "If you wanted me then, John."

  "I thank God," he breathed in her hair. "And you would come to me withoutreservation, Joanne, trusting me, believing in me--you would come to mebody, and heart, and soul?"

  "In all those ways--yes."

  "I thank God," he breathed again.

  He raised her face. He looked deep into her eyes, and the glory of her lovegrew in them, and her lips trembled as she lifted them ever so little forhim to kiss.

  "Oh, I was happy--so happy," she whispered, putting her hands to his face."John, I knew that you loved me, and oh! I was fighting so hard to keepmyself from letting you know how happy it made me. And here, I was afraidyou wouldn't tell me--before it happened. And John--John----"

  She leaned back from him, and her white hands moved like swift shadows inher hair, and then, suddenly, it billowed about her--her glorioushair--covering her from crown to hip; and with her hands she swept andpiled the lustrous masses of it over him until his face, and head, andshoulders were buried in the flaming sheen and sweet perfume of it.

  He strained her closer. Through the warm richness of her tresses his lipspressed her lips, and they ceased to breathe. And up to their ears,pounding through that enveloping shroud of her hair came the_tick-tick-tick_ of the watch in his pocket.

  "Joanne," he whispered.

  "Yes, John."

  "You are not afraid of--death?"

  "No, not when you are holding me like this, John."

  He still clasped her hands, and a sweet smile crept over her lips.

  "Even now you are splendid," she said. "Oh, I would have you that way, myJohn!"

  Again they stood up in the unsteady glow of the lanterns.

  "What time is it?" she asked.

  He drew out his watch, and as they both looked his blood ran cold.

  "Twelve minutes," she murmured, and there was not a quiver in her voice."Let us sit down, John--you on this box, and I on the floor, at yourfeet--like this."

  He seated himself on the box, and Joanne nestled herself at his knees, herhands clasped in his.

  "I think, John," she said softly, "that very, very often we would havevisited like this--you and I--in the evening."

  A lump choked him, and he could not answer.

  "I would very often have come and perched myself at your feet like this."

  "Yes, yes, my beloved."

  "And you would always have told me how beautiful my hair was--always. Youwould not have forgotten that, John--or have grown tired?"

  "No, no--never!"

  His arms were about her. He was drawing her closer.

  "And we would have had beautiful times together, John--writing, and goingadventuring, and--and----"

  He felt her trembling, throbbing, and her arms tightened about him.

  And now, again up through the smother of her hair, came the_tick-tick-tick_ of his watch.

  He felt her fumbling at his watch pocket, and in a moment she was holdingthe timepiece between them, so that the light of the lantern fell on theface of it.

  "It is three minutes of four, John."

  The watch slipped from her fingers, and now she drew herself up so that herarms were about his neck, and their faces touched.

  "Dear John, you love me?"

  "So much that even now, in the face of death, I am happy," he whispered."Joanne, sweetheart, we are not going to be separated. We aregoing--together. Through all eternity it must be like this--you and I,together. Little girl, wind your hair about me--tight!"

  "There--and there--and there, John! I have tied you to me, and you areburied in it! Kiss me, John----"

  And then the wild and terrible fear of a great loneliness swept throughhim. For Joanne's voice had died away in a whispering breath, and the lipshe kissed did not kiss him back, and her body lay heavy, heavy, heavy inhis arms. Yet in his loneliness he thanked God for bringing her oblivion inthese last moments, and with his face crushed to hers he waited. For heknew that it was no longer a matter of minutes, but of seconds, and inthose seconds he prayed, until up through the warm smother of herhair--with the clearness of a tolling bell--came the sound of the littlegong in his watch striking the Hour of Four!

  In space other worlds might have crumbled into ruin; on earth the storiesof empires might have been written and the lives of men grown old in thosefirst century-long seconds in which John Aldous held his breath and waitedafter the chiming of the hour-bell in the watch on the cavern floor. Howlong he waited he did not know; how closely he was crushing Joanne to hisbreast he did not realize. Seconds, minutes, and other minutes--and hisbrain ran red in dumb, silent madness. And the watch! It _ticked, ticked,ticked!_ It was like a hammer.

  He had heard the sound of it first coming up through her hair. But it wasnot in her hair now. It was over him, about him--it was no longer aticking, but a throb, a steady, jarring, beating throb. It grew louder,and the air stirred with it. He lifted his head. With the eyes of a madmanhe stared--and listened. His arms relaxed from about Joanne, and sheslipped crumpled and lifeless to the floor. He stared--and that steady_beat-beat-beat_--a hundred times louder than the ticking of awatch--pounded in his brain. Was he mad? He staggered to the choked mouthof the tunnel, and then there fell shout upon shout, and shriek upon shriekfrom his lips, and twice, like a madman now, he ran back to Joanne andcaught her up in his arms, calling and sobbing her name, and thenshouting--and calling her name again. She moved; her eyes opened, and likeone gazing upon the spirit of the dead she looked into the face of JohnAldous, a madman's face in the lantern-glow.

  "John--John----"

  She put up her hands, and with a cry he ran with her in his arms to thechoked tunnel.

  "Listen! Listen!" he cried wildly. "Dear God in Heaven, Joanne--can you nothear them? It's Blackton--Blackton and his men! Hear--hear the rock-hammerssmashing! Joanne--Joanne--we are saved!"

  She did not sense him. She swayed, half on her feet, half in his arms, asconsciousness and reason returned to her. Dazedly her hands went to hisface in their old, sweet way. Aldous saw her struggling to understand--tocomprehend; and he kissed her soft upturned lips, fighting back theexcitement that made him want to raise his voice again in wild and joyousshouting.

  "It is Blackton!" he said over and over again. "It is Blackton and his men!Listen!--you can hear their picks and the pounding of their rock-hammers!"