CHAPTER XXII
THE TREASON OF H'YEMBA
Not yet even fully awake, Beatrice was conscious of a sudden,vast responsibility laid on her shoulders. She felt the thrill ofleadership and command, for in her hands alone now rested the fate ofthe community.
Out of bed she sprang, her grief for the moment crushed aside, aquivernow with the spirit of defense against all ills that might menace thecolony and her child.
"The cliff falls?" she cried, starting for the doorway.
"Yea, mistress! Hark!"
Both women heard a grating, crushing sound. The whole fabric of thecavern trembled again, as though shuddering; then, far below, agrinding crash reechoed--and now rose shouts, cries, wails of pain.
Already Beatrice was out of the door and running down the terrace.
"Yulcia! Yulcia!" the old woman stood screaming after her. "You mustnot go!"
She answered nothing, but ran the faster. Already she could see dustrising from the river-brink; and louder now the cries blended in ananguished chorus as she sped down the terrace.
What could have happened? How great was the catastrophe? What mightthe death-roll be?
Her terrors about Allan had at last been thrown into the background ofher mind. She forgot the boy, herself, everything save the crushingfact of some stupendous calamity.
All at once she stopped with a gasp of terror.
She had reached the turn in the path whence now all the further reachof the cliff was visible. But, where the crag had towered, nowappeared only a great and jagged rent in the limestone, through whichthe sky peered down.
An indescribable chaos of fragments, blocks, debris, detritus of allkinds half choked the river below; and the swift current, suddenlyblocked, now foamed and chafed with lathering fury through the newlyfallen obstacle.
Broken short off, the path stopped not a hundred yards in front ofher.
As she stood there, dazed and dumb, harkening the terrible cries thatrose from those still not dead in the ruins, she perceived some of theFolk gathered along the brink of the new chasm. More and more keptcoming from the scant half of the caves still left. And all, dazed andnumbed like herself, stood there peering down with vacant looks.
Beatrice first recovered wit. Dimly she understood the truth. Thecavern digging of the Folk, the burrowing and honeycombing through thecliff, must have sprung some keystone, started some "fault," or brokendown some vital rib of the structure.
With irresistible might it had torn loose, slid, crashed, leaped intothe canyon, carrying with it how many lives she knew not.
All she knew now was that rescues must be made of such as still lived,and that the bodies of the dead must be recovered.
So with fresh strength, utterly forgetful of self, she ran once moredown the steep terrace, calling to her folk:
"Men! My people! Down to the river, quickly! Take hammers, bars,tools--go swiftly! Save the wounded! Go!"
There was no sleep for any in the colony that day, that night, or thenext day. The vast pile of debris rang with the sledge blows, louderthan ever anvil rang, and the torches flared and sparkled over thejumble of broken rock, beneath which now lay buried many dead--noneknew how many--nevermore to be seen of man. Great iron bars bentdouble with the prying of strong arms.
Beatrice herself, flambeau in hand, directed the labor. And as, one byone, the wounded and the broken were released, she ordered them borneto the great cave of Bremilu, the Strong.
Bremilu had been in the house of one Jukkos at the time of thecatastrophe. His body was one of the first to be found. Betatransformed his cave into a hospital.
And there, working with the help of three or four women, hampered inevery way for lack of proper materials, she labored hour after hourdressing wounds, setting broken bones, watching no few die, evendespite the best that she could do.
Old Gesafam came to seek her there with news that the child cried ofhunger. Dazed, Beta went to nurse it; and then returned, in spite ofthe old woman's pleadings; and so a long time passed--how long shenever knew.
Disaster! This was her one clear realization through all those hoursof dark and labor, anguish and despair. For the first time the girlfelt beaten.
Till now, through every peril, exposure and hardship, she had kepthope and courage. Allan had always been beside her--wise, and verystrong to counsel and to act.
But now, alone there--all alone in face of this suddendevastation--she felt at the end of her resources. She had to struggleto hold her reason, to use her native judgment, common sense andskill.
The work of rescue came to an end at last. All were saved who couldbe. All the bodies that could be reached had been carried into stillanother cave, not far from the path of the disaster. All the woundsand injuries had been dressed, and now Beatrice knew her force was atan end. She could do no more.
Drained of energy, spent, broken, she dragged herself up the pathagain. In front of the cave of H'yemba, the smith, a group ofsurvivors had gathered.
Dimly she sensed that the ugly fellow was haranguing them with loudand bitter words. As she came past, the speech died; but many loweringand evil looks were cast on her, and a low murmur--sullen andominous--followed her on up the terrace.
Too exhausted even to note it or to care, she staggered back to CliffVilla, flung herself on the bed, and slept.
How long? She could not tell when she awoke again. Only she knew thata dim light, as of evening, was glimmering in at the doorway, and thather child was in the bed beside her.
"Gesafam!" she called, for she heard some one moving in the cave."Bring me water!"
There came no answer. Beta repeated the command. A curious, sneeringmockery startled her. Still clad in her loose brown cloak, belted atthe waist--for she had thrown herself upon the bed fully clad--she satup, peering by the light of the fireplace into the half dark of theroom.
A third time she called the old woman.
"It is useless!" cried a voice. "She will not come to help you. See, Ihave bound her--and now she lies in that further chamber of the cave,helpless. For it is not with her I would speak, but with you. And youshall hear me."
"H'yemba!" cried Beatrice, startled, suddenly recognizing the squatand brutal figure that now, a threat in every gesture, approached thebed. "Out! Out of here, I say! How dare you enter my house? You shallpay heavily for this great insult when the master comes. Out andaway!"
The ugly fellow only laughed menacingly.
"No, I shall not go, and there will be no payment," he retorted in hisown speech. "And you must hear me, for now I, and not he, shall be themaster here."
Beta sprang from the bed and faced him.
"Go, or I shoot you down like a dog!" she threatened.
He sneered.
"There will be no shooting," he answered coolly. "But there will bespeech for you to hear. Now listen! _This_ is what ye brought us hereto? The man and you? _This?_ To death and woe? To accidents andperishings?
"Ye brought us to hardship and to battle, not to peace! With lies,deceptions and false promises ye enticed us! We were safe and happy inour homes in the Abyss beside the sunless sea, till _ye_ fell thitherin your air-boat from these cursed regions. We--"
"For this speech ye shall surely die when the master comes!" criedshe. "This is treason, and the penalty of it is death!"
He continued, paying no heed:
"We had no need of you, your ways, or your place. But the man Allanwould rule or he would ruin. He overthrew and killed our chief, thegreat Kamrou himself--Kamrou the Terrible! To us he broughtdissensions. From us he bore the patriarch away and slew him, and thenmade us a great falsehood in that matter.
"So he enticed us all. And ye behold the great disaster and the death!The man Allan has deserted us all to perish here. Coward in his heart,he has abandoned _you_ as well! Gone once more to safety and ease,below in the Abyss, there to rule the rest of the Folk, there to takewives according to our law, while _we_ die here!"
Menacingly he advanced toward the dumb-
stricken woman, his face ablazewith evil passion.
"Gremnya!" (coward) he shouted. "Weakling at heart. Great boaster,doer of little deeds! Even you, who would be our mistress, he hasabandoned--even his own son he has forsaken. A rotten breed, truly!And we die!
"But listen now. This shall not be! I, H'yemba, the smith, thestrongest of all, will not permit it. I will be ruler here, if anylive to be ruled! And you shall be my serving-maid--your son myslave!"
Aghast, struck dumb by this wild tempest of rebellion, Beatricerecoiled. His face showed like a white blur in the gloom.
"Allan!" she gasped. "My Allan--"
The huge smith laughed a venomous laugh that echoed through the cave.
"Ha! Ye call on the coward?" he mocked, advancing on her. "On thecoward who cannot hear, and would not save you if he could? Behold nowye shall kneel to me and call me master! And my words from now yeshall obey!"
She snatched for her pistol. It was not there. In the excitement ofthe past hours she had forgotten to buckle it on. She was unarmed.
H'yemba already grasped for her, to force her down upon the floor,kneeling to him--to make her call him master.
Already his strong and hairy fingers had all but seized her robe.
But she, lithe and agile, evaded the grip. To the fire she sprang. Shecaught up a flaming stick that lay upon the hearth. With a cry shedashed it full into his glaring eyes.
So sudden was the attack that H'yemba had no time even to ward it offwith his hands. Fair in the face the scorching flame struck home.
Howling, blinded, stricken, he staggered back; beat the air with vainblows and retreated toward the door.
As he went he poured upon her a torrent of the most hideousimprecations known to their speech--and they were many.
But she, undaunted now, feeling her power and her strength again,followed close. And like blows of a flail, the sputtering, flaringflame beat down upon his head, neck, shoulders.
His hair was blazing now; a smell of scorched flesh diffused itselfthrough the cavern.
"Go! _Go, dog!_" she shouted, maddened and furious, in consuming rageand hate. "Coward! Slanderer and liar! Go, ere I kill you now!"
In panic-stricken fright, unable to see, trying in vain to ward offthe devastating, torturing whip of flame and to extinguish the fireravaging his hair, the brute half ran, half fell out of the cave.
Down the steep path he staggered, yelling curses; down, away,anywhere--away from this pursuing fury.
But the woman, outraged in all her inmost sacred tendernesses, herlove for child and husband, still drove him with the blazingscourge--drove, till the torch was beaten to extinction--drove, tillthe smith took refuge in his own cave.
There, being spent and weary, she let him lie and howl. Exhausted,terribly shaken in body and soul, yet her eyes triumphant, she oncemore climbed the precipitous path to her own dwelling. The torch sheflung away, down the canyon into the river.
She ran to the far recess of the cave, found Gesafam indeed bound andhelpless, and quickly freed her.
The old woman was shaking like a leaf, and could give no coherentaccount of what had happened. Beta made her lie down on the couch, andherself prepared a bowl of hot broth for the faithful nurse.
Then she bethought herself of the pistol Allan had given her.
"I must never take that off again, whatever happens," said she."But--where is it now?"
In vain she hunted for it on the table, the floor, the shelves, and inthe closets Allan had built. In vain she ransacked the whole cave.
The pistol, belt, and cartridges--all were gone.
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