Part 45 (1/2)

I began to feel that I had made my last effort, and I was nerving myself for another stroke when my hand touched something hard.

”Loose your hold or I fire!” cried a fierce voice, and the barrel of a gun was pressed against my cheek.

”Uncle!” I gasped, in a voice that did not sound like mine, and as I spoke I grasped the cold barrel of the gun.

There was a loud e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n, a faint cry, hands were holding mine, I could feel the raft rocking to and fro, as if about to be overturned; and then, as I felt that I was drawn upon it--that I was saved--my senses reeled, and my mind became dark as the sky which hung over the river.

I believe my swoon did not last many minutes. How could it, when my head was being held to my aunt's breast, which heaved with emotion, and hot tears were falling upon my forehead.

”Lilla?” I whispered.

”Harry!” was breathed upon my cheek, as she came forward.

But this was no time for talking, and rallying my strength I rose to my knees.

”I thought I should never have reached you, Uncle,” I said.

”I did my best, Harry,” he whispered; ”but I felt that when those blood-hounds leaped suddenly out from the brake that I must push off.”

”But what was that struggle I heard? Did I not hear Garcia's voice?”

”Yes,” said my uncle, huskily.

”And where is Tom?”

My uncle was silent.

”Poor Tom?” I said, in an inquiring voice.

”Yes,” said my uncle, huskily. ”It seemed to me that Garcia and another reached the canoe Tom was in--the gold canoe, Harry--and that then there was a desperate fight, which lasted some minutes. I had seized the paddle, and tried to make for where the struggle seemed to be going on; but first there was a faint, gurgling cry, and then utter silence; and though I softly paddled here and there I could find nothing. Harry, that canoe was heavily laden--the gold was a dead weight--”

”And it took down with it what was worth ten thousand times more than the vile yellow trash,” I cried bitterly--”as true a heart as ever beat.

Oh, Uncle--Uncle! I have murdered as n.o.ble a man as ever breathed, and as faithful a friend. Oh, Tom--Tom!” I groaned.

I could say no more; but out there that night on the breast of the black, swift stream, with not a sound now but the sobs of the women to break the terrible silence, I--a woman myself now in heart--bent down to cover my face with my hands and cry like a child.

At last I grew more calm, for there was work to be done. I found that we had floated on to a kind of mud bank, and were aground, and I had to help my uncle to get the raft off, which we managed by drawing the canoe up alongside, and then getting in and paddling hard, with the effect that the raft at last floated off, and we retained our places in the canoe guiding the raft down the swiftly flowing stream.

Morning at last, to bring no brightness to my heart.

We paddled on, the little raft, buoyant as possible, following swiftly in our wake.

”Harry,” said my uncle, almost sternly, ”I have thought it over during the darkness of the night, and I cannot feel that we have been wanting in any way. Poor lad! it was his fate.”

”Uncle,” I cried, throwing down my paddle, ”I can bear this no longer.

I must go back!”

”Harry,” cried my uncle, ”you shall not act in that mad fas.h.i.+on. You have escaped with life, and now you would throw it away.”

”Is it not mine to cast away if I like?” I said bitterly.