Chapter IX: To the Rescue

Rees was galloping along the steep road leading to the mountains. He, who was generally so kind to animals, rushed the bay horse under him at a most unmerciful speed. But his willing beast did not misjudge him and think him harsh; he seemed instinctively to understand that there was some appalling need for this breakneck pace up and down the steep hills guarding and making it difficult to reach the precipitous mountains beyond. The horse stretched out his quivering bay limbs, barely touching the chocolate-tinted track in its excited eagerness to comply with the wishes of its beloved rider.

As Justin flew over the ground his eyes were fixed on the wide, flat marks of motor tyres plainly visible in the reddish-brown dust.

He had breakfasted early that morning, taken a large party of visitors to some waterfalls, returned home shortly before lunch, and found that Captain Barton had carried Mrs. Henderson and Iris off immediately after breakfast to the mountains. He had reproached Miss Smith for allowing them to go without a guide; she had replied that she had done her best to dissuade Captain Barton from going, but he had waved all her objections aside, told her he was used to mountaineering and that the ladies were perfectly safe with him. He had not taken her warnings kindly, and finally she had been forced to pack their luncheon-basket and see them start off in the beautiful dark red car. Strange to say, neither Mrs. Henderson nor Miss Dearn had seemed afraid to trust themselves with their self-confident friend.

Now Rees was racing as fast as the splendid bay would carry him to reach the summit in time to prevent their descending the wrong turning on their way back. To find the way to the top was not difficult, for the path was well defined; but, after they had wandered about on the high, trackless plateau with the numerous peaks rising at erratic intervals from the rocky plain, the danger would begin, as the ravines leading downwards were all so much alike and it would be hard to strike the right one; and, should they descend the wrong one--the rider urged on his horse at the thought--almost certain death awaited them--an aimless wandering about for days amid never-ending slopes, densest bush, barren rocks; or, if they should make a false step on a loose boulder, a hurling into a dizzy chasm.

It was about three o’clock when he arrived at the spot where the track narrowed into a small path and the car had stopped. Mrs. Henderson sat in the motor, reading; she heard the thud of the galloping hoofs a little distance away and recognised Rees instantly; no one else rode like that. She looked at him in surprise as he drew rein and pulled up the panting, trembling horse.

“Mr. Rees, you don’t mean to say you have come after us?” she said with evident astonishment.

“Yes, of course,” he replied unevenly, and went on to explain to her the danger in a few words. “How long is it since they left you?” he finished, with undisguised concern.

“Quite two hours,” she answered, beginning to feel uneasy as she looked at his anxious, strained face.

She watched him as he hastily unsaddled the horse and let him go; then he threw his long blue overcoat over his shoulder, strapped the bag he carried on his back a little tighter, turned to speak to her again; then, after a few words, hurried along the steep little path winding its way up the dense bush and was soon lost among the great overshadowing trees.

Mrs. Henderson’s healthy face paled. She suddenly realised the horrible seriousness of the situation. It was really too bad of Ralph to have been so obstinate about not taking the guide with them, and so run such awful risks with Iris. She had argued the point with him that morning, but as he had been so confident and reassuring she had weakly given in. However, Rees was on the spot now, and that thought brought relief.

In the meanwhile the driver was climbing as he had never climbed before. He was as reckless with himself as he had been with his horse. The perspiration rolled from his forehead, his veins swelled and his breath came in rapid gasps.

He passed through beautiful gorges where huge tree ferns spread out alluring, detaining fronds, and gigantic dark green myrtles almost barred the way. Higher up he crossed barren slopes dotted with stunted wind-swept bushes and long, wiry-looking grass, where the wild cry of crow-shrieks mingled with the hoarse, fitful whispers of the breeze. Once a big, mole-tinted kangaroo leapt by him on its rapid, bounding way. But he hardly noticed it; his eyes were fixed on the ground, his lips set.

At last he entered the long, narrow ravine leading to the top of the ridge, and, after half-an-hour’s strenuous climbing through the steep, dark, tunnel-like passage, he stood panting on the immense plateau, his burning eyes scanning the vast scene before him. The late afternoon sunshine flooded the endless plain, and made the crags and peaks rising from it look like great, curiously shaped pyramids springing from some huge, billowy desert.

Rees shaded his eyes with his hand and gazed intently on the rocky stretches before him. But no one was in sight. Then he walked on, coo-eeing loudly as he went. After a time a faint response came to his call. He hurried on in the direction of the sound, and presently he saw two men standing by a tremendous boulder which, till then, had hidden them from view. But there was no lady visible; however, Iris might be sitting down behind the stone.

“Where is Miss Dearn?” asked the driver without ceremony, as he came up to the men and looked eagerly for the missing figure. As there was no immediate answer to his question he glanced quickly at his companions, and, for the first time, noticed that there were marks of distress on their faces.

MOUNT PICTON.]

He repeated his question more peremptorily.

The chauffeur gave his master an odd look and waited for him to reply.

“Miss Dearn will come along presently; she must have gone to look at some of the curious rocks about here,” said Captain Barton, stroking one of his smooth cheeks and trying not to betray his uneasiness.

“Man, you don’t mean to say you don’t know where she is?” broke out Justin indignantly.

“I think you are forgetting yourself, Mr. ----” replied Ralph, with an attempt at dignity.

“Tell me where you lost her;” demanded Rees, ignoring his thrust.

Captain Barton’s fears were getting the better of him and he felt in sad need of Rees as an ally, so he swallowed his pride and said: “She was sitting here when we went to climb that peak over there. She did not want to go any farther and I am sure she said she would stay here till we returned. I thought perhaps she might have gone back to Mrs. Henderson and we were just going down to see, but as you did not meet her I suppose she is still up here somewhere.”

The driver’s hot face had suddenly blanched. “So you left a lady, entrusted to your care, to amuse yourself climbing peaks!” There was deep scorn and anger in his low, quiet voice. Then his tones changed. “But there is no time to lose; we must begin to look for Miss Dearn at once.”

The driver soon organised the little search party. The chauffeur was to go up the western range, Captain Barton was told to go towards the south, and he himself took the long, interminable ridges stretching to the east. He arranged with the others that they were to search till sundown if Miss Dearn was not found before, but to descend then, as they could do no good after dark and would only become a new anxiety to him. He would stay on the mountains all night. He planned that whoever found Miss Dearn should go down below the ravine where there was plenty of wood and light a huge fire, so that the others might see the smoke and return. The guide also advised that they should take Mrs. Henderson home when they returned at sundown and come back the following morning at dawn to resume the search.

So the three men parted and went in their various directions.

Rees saw the others start and then began to walk quickly along his own allotted region. He heard them calling as they went; at first their voices sounded loud and clear, but gradually they grew fainter and were at last lost to his ears altogether. He, too, began to coo-ee at intervals and listen intently for some distant response. But none came. He walked on more rapidly as the sun sank lower in the west. The warm, slanting sunbeams grew golden. The sun hung over the western crags as a huge ball of fire which was about to drop on them and endow each stately peak with volcanic flames. The brilliant globe sank lower till it touched the crest of far-away summits, and then suddenly a flood of fire leapt over the plateau, lighting up every rock with amber radiance. In another moment the sun had disappeared, the amber glow deepened to rose, and the whole vast plateau was turned into a wilderness of dazzling fire, making every crag glisten with fierce red splendour!

Justin looked at the amazing beauty and breathed hard. To him it only meant just then that before long it would be too dark for further search. There was no moon, and in the nightly gloom he would not even know if he were walking in the right direction. He went on with increased vigour. Iris was alone and frightened somewhere up here in this endless desert of peaks. If only she would stay on the plateau there might be some hope of finding her; but if she, by any chance, should attempt to descend by any of those trackless, terrible gullies---- He shuddered and quickened his pace. But it was not easy to walk fast; there were great boulders to climb, huge, rocky protrusions, deep gorges to be bordered, yawning chasms to be avoided. But he made his way resolutely onwards in spite of all hindrances, coo-eeing repeatedly as he went.

The roseate light faded. A deep, dark gloom crept up from the valleys, enfolding the plateau and stealing slowly towards every summit. The plain became shadowy and blurred. The glow died out of the sky. The distant views grew dim. Night stole over the world. It advanced all round the lonely figure walking with desperate determination in the gathering dusk. Hope was fading from his soul, despair began to clutch at his heart. How was he to find his darling when it grew dark? Would he ever find her? He might walk on the top of the mountains for days, for weeks, for months, and yet never catch a glimpse of her beloved form, even if it were possible for her to exist all that time without food and shelter. He often turned round and looked in the direction of the downward track for the smoke which was to indicate she had been found. But no curling wreaths rose from the valley below. The others would have returned by this time. They would not find her now; if she was to be found _he_ must do it. He hastened on again.

As he looked towards the western peaks he noticed with a sudden fear that small clouds had begun to gather on one of the highest peaks. After walking a short distance he looked back again; the small cloudlets had united into a big, fleecy mass which was sinking low over the towering crests. Justin’s heart almost stood still at the sight. Should the vapoury mass descend and envelop all, then there would not be one ray of hope; each step would be fraught with danger, and, if Iris were trying to walk, then---- Rees shivered visibly. The awful clouds were drawing closer. A terrible anguish seized him. All seemed lost. He would never be able to reach Iris now. If only she had stayed in the same place where she found she had lost her bearings! If only she had not tried to descend any of the gullies! But she could not have remained stationary, or one of the three searchers would have found her long ago.

Justin staggered on. The hopelessness in his heart had robbed his step of its buoyancy, and he was very tired. He had not waited for lunch when he heard the party had gone to the mountains. He had not touched food since his early breakfast; he had been through a dreadful strain and it was telling on him now. He reeled with exhaustion and misery, and suddenly sank down on the cold, rocky ground. What was he to do? There were plenty of sandwiches in the bag strapped on his back, yet he felt he could not eat; food would choke him. There was also a flask in the bag; one draught of that liquid fire and he would revive!

But something in him rose in quick revolt. No, that flask must not be touched by him. Iris might need it all, and besides, he could not greet her with the scent of _that_ on his lips.

The gloom gathered thicker all around him; the fleecy masses crept nearer and nearer. They came towards him softly, insidiously, blotting out all hope and possibility of finding the girl he loved.

A moan of desperation escaped his drawn lips.

He would be lost himself if he attempted to move; he was even now cut off from stumbling onward in the dark and pursuing his search.

He leant back against the boulder behind him with closed eyes.

Ah, where was Iris this dark, terrible night? Was she huddled together somewhere behind grim, relentless stones, afraid of the great, vast solitude, the awful, mute loneliness? If only he could have found her and stayed with her during the long, dark hours! His splendid Iris--Iris, who had treated him with such magnificent generosity, who had looked at him with eyes shimmering with love; who had forgiven his fall with such boundless generosity; who had put aside shyness, conventionality, and come out into the lane the night before to comfort him; his beautiful Iris, who had been willing to risk all and unite her life to his, she was lost now--somewhere terribly alone in this great, ruthless expanse!

He moaned again, and bit his lip. Then into his burning brain came a vision of Turner’s cabin, which he had visited the evening before. He saw the small, tidy gate where years ago the old drunkard had painted the name “Hope” on the slender woodwork. He saw the gaunt, white-haired man and heard him speak in his cracked, rasping voice: “There is always hope, my lad; that is why I painted that name on my gate twenty years ago; some day I shall win. Hope comes by way of--God.”

Apparently the old man had not reached God’s help all these years, but yet the drunkard was confident that He _would_ help him before it was too late.

Would that same God help him? Rees asked himself. His end had come--the end of his own efforts, his own powers. Would not God step into a breach as terrible and as urgent as his? All at once he felt, in his extremity, that God was his only hope.

He sat up suddenly, then he covered his white face with his cold hands, and, his very soul crying out, began to pray. He besought God, with an intensity which warmed him and made his body tingle with its vehemence, to guard the girl he so passionately longed to protect! His spirit lighted him on and he found the only Being who could meet his need, and laid hold on Him with hands which would not relax, entreating Him, with all the force of his distracted, agonised soul, to lead him to the girl he would give his life to rescue!

A strange peace came to him. His despair vanished. Hope returned, and with it came back his strength and accustomed vigour. He rose quickly. Surely his stumbling feet would be guided to the spot where the darkness and the relentless rocks hid the woman he loved.

As he made his way in the murky gloom an odd desire to sing stole over him. His singing had reached Iris in the cave; might it not reach her again? It had drawn them together in the hollow hill; might it not draw them together now?

He began to sing, and his voice, powerful and irresistibly sweet, floated into the wild, brooding loneliness. Song after song trembled into the listening spaces. After each verse he stopped and waited eagerly for some response. But there was no answer.

Then at last he began the song which was always now symbolical of the birth of their love, and his clear, exquisite tones rang out the words--

“I’ll sing thee songs of Araby.”

He sang with a strange, throbbing pathos; all his love, his tenderness, his desperate anxiety, his anguish, pulsated in every quivering note, saturating the darkness with its exquisite sweetness.

He stopped and listened, then started violently--was it the mockery of the rising breeze or some conjury of the echoing rocks? It seemed as if there was a faint, far-away response. He made his way blindly, frantically, in the direction of the sound, and after he had walked awhile he repeated the song and then waited breathlessly.

His heart gave a terrible bound; this time the response was quite distinct, and it was the voice he was craving to hear!

In his impetuous haste he stumbled over some protruding stones; but the fall did not delay him long, and he blundered on again. Once more he sang a phrase of their song, and the answer came, astonishingly close to him.

Then his burning eyes saw a tall, slender form emerge from the soft dimness, and make its way towards him.