Part 18 (1/2)
”The horses! Seize the horses!” rose in a loud shout, and the mob flung themselves upon us, as though three animals could carry all.
When I saw the rush, I called out: ”Sit firm, Natalie; I am going to strike your horse.” Saying which I struck the pony a sharp blow with my riding-whip crossways on the flank. It bounded like a deer, and then dashed forward down the rough pathway.
”Now you, Edith!” I struck her pony in the same way; but it only reared and nearly threw her. It could not get away. Already hands were upon both bridle-reins. There was no help for it. I pulled out my revolver and fired once, twice, and thrice--for I missed the second shot--and then the maddened animal sprang forward, released from the hands that held it.
It was now time to look to myself. I was in the midst of a dozen maniacs mad with fear. I kicked in my spurs desperately, and the bay lashed out his hind feet. One hoof struck young Halley on the forehead. He fell back dead, his skull in fragments. But the others refused to break the circle. Then I emptied my weapon on them, and my horse plunged through the opening, followed by despairing execrations. The moment I was clear, I returned my revolver to its case, and settled myself in the saddle, for, borne out of the proper path as I had been, there was a stiff bank to leap before I could regain the track to the sh.o.r.e. Owing to the darkness the horse refused to leap, and I nearly fell over his head.
With a little scrambling I managed to get back into my seat, and then trotted along the bank for a hundred yards. At this point the bank disappeared, and there was nothing between me now and the open track to the sea.
Once upon the path, I put the bay to a gallop, and very soon overtook a man and a woman hurrying on. They were running hand in hand, the man a little in front dragging his companion on by force. It was plain to me that the woman could not hold out much longer. The man, Claude Lureau, hailed me as I pa.s.sed.
”Help us, Marcel. Don't ride away from us.”
”I cannot save both,” I answered, pulling up.
”Then save Mademoiselle Veret. I'll take my chance.”
This blunt speech moved me, the more especially as the man was French. I could not allow him to point the way of duty to me--an Englishman.
”a.s.sist her up, then. Now, Mademoiselle, put your arms round me and hold hard for your life. Lureau, you may hold my stirrup if you agree to loose it when you tire.”
”I will do so,” he promised.
Hampered thus, I but slowly gained on Natalie and Edith, whose ponies had galloped a mile before they could be stopped.
”Forward, forward!” I shouted when within hail. ”Don't wait for me. Ride on at top speed. Lash your ponies with the bridle-reins.”
We were all moving on now at an easy canter, for I could not go fast so long as Lureau held my stirrup, and the girls in front did not seem anxious to leave me far behind. Besides, the tangled underwood and overhanging creepers rendered hard riding both difficult and dangerous.
The ponies were hard held, but notwithstanding this my horse fell back gradually in the race, and the hammering of the hoofs in front grew fainter. The breath of the runner at my stirrup came in great sobs. He was suffocating, but he struggled on a little longer. Then he threw up his hand and gasped:
”I am done. Go on, Marcel. You deserve to escape. Don't desert the girl.”
”May G.o.d desert me if I do,” I answered. ”And do you keep on as long as you can. You may reach the sh.o.r.e after all.”
”Go on--save her!” he gasped, and then from sheer exhaustion fell forward on his face.
”Sit still, Mademoiselle,” I cried, pulling the French girl's arms round me in time to prevent her from throwing herself purposely from the horse. Then I drove in my spurs hard, and, being now released from Lureau's grasp, I overtook the ponies.
For five minutes we all rode on abreast. And then the darkness began to break, and a strange dawn glimmered over the tree-tops, although the hour of midnight was still to come. A wild, red light, like that of a fiery sunset in a hazy summer evening, spread over the night sky. The quivering stars grew pale. Constellation after constellation, they were blotted out until the whole arc of heaven was a dull red glare. The horses were dismayed by this strange phenomenon, and dashed the froth from their foaming muzzles as they galloped now without stress of spur at their best speed. Birds that could not sing found voice, and chattered and shrieked as they dashed from tree to tree in aimless flight. Enormous bats hurtled in the air, blinded by the unusual light.
From the dense undergrowth strange denizens of the woods, disturbed in their nightly prowl, leaped forth and scurried squealing between the galloping hoofs, reckless of anything save their own fear. Everything that was alive upon the island was in motion, and fear was the motor of them all.
So far, we saw no natives. Their absence did not surprise me, for I had no time for thought. It was explained later.
Edith Metford's pony soon became unmanageable in its fright. I unbuckled one spur and gave it to her, directing her to hold it in her hand, for of course she could not strap it to her boot, and drive it into the animal when he swerved. She took the spur, and as her pony, in one of his side leaps, nearly bounded off the path, she struck him hard on the ribs. He bolted and flew on far ahead of us.
The light grew stronger.
But that the rays were red, it would now have been as bright as day. We were chasing our shadows, so the light must be directly behind us.
Mademoiselle Veret first noticed this, and drew my attention to it. I looked back, and my heart sank at the sight. In the terror it inspired, I regretted having burthened myself with the girl I had sworn to save.
The island was on fire!