Part 40 (1/2)

On level ground and under ordinary circ.u.mstances it would have been a simple matter. For Jeffreys was brawny and powerful; and the light weight of the slender, wiry boy was nothing to him. But on that slippery mountain-side, after the fatigue and peril of the afternoon, it was as much as he could do to stagger forward under the burden.

Yet--was it quite unnatural?--a strange sort of happiness seemed to take possession of him as he felt this helpless boy's form in his arms, the head drooped on his shoulder, and the poor bruised arm tenderly supported in his hand. There seemed hope in the burden; and in that brotherly service a promise of expiation for another still more sacred service which had been denied him! He tramped down that long gradual slope in a contented dream, halting often to rest, but never losing heart. Percy, too exhausted to remonstrate, yielded himself gratefully, and lay only half conscious in his protector's arms, often fancying himself at home in bed or lolling idly in the summer fields.

It may have been midnight, or later still, when Jeffreys, looking beyond the shadows projected by the moon in front of him, perceived a gleam of light far down in the valley.

”Probably,” thought he, ”some honest shepherd, after his day's work, is happily going to rest. Think of a bed, and a pillow, and a blanket!”

But no, the light--the lights, there were two--were moving--moving rapidly and evenly.

Jeffreys stood still to listen. The wind had long since dropped into rest, and the clear night air would have carried a sound twice the distance. Yes, it was a cart or a carriage, and he could even detect the clatter of the horses on the hard road. Possibly some benighted wagoner, or a mail cart.

He raised a shout which scared the sleeping rabbits in their holes and made the hill across the valley wake with echoes. The lights still moved on. He set Percy down tenderly on the gra.s.s with his coat beneath him. Then, running with all his speed, he halved the distance which separated him and the road, and shouted again.

This time the clatter of the hoofs stopped abruptly and the lights stood still.

Once more he shouted, till the night rang with echoes. Then, joyful sound! there rose from the valley an answering call, and he knew all was safe.

In a few minutes he was back again where Percy, once more awake, was sitting up, bewildered, and listening to the echoes which his repeated shouts still kept waking.

”It's all right, old fellow; there's a carriage.”

”They've come to look for us. I can walk, Jeff, really.”

”Are you sure?”

”Yes, and they'd be so scared if they saw me being carried.”

So they started forward, the answering shouts coming nearer and nearer at every step.

”That's Appleby,” said Percy, as a particularly loud whoop fell on their ears. It was, and with him Mr Rimbolt and Scarfe.

When darkness came, and no signs of the pedestrians, the usual uneasiness had prevailed at Wildtree, increased considerably by Walker's and Raby's report as to the mountaineering garb in which the missing ones had started. The terrible tempest which had attacked the face of Wild Pike had swept over Wildtree too, and added a hundredfold to the alarm which, as hour pa.s.sed hour, their absence caused. Scarfe, arriving at home about ten o'clock, found the whole family in a state of panic. Mr Rimbolt had been out on the lower slopes of the mountain, and reported that a storm raged there before which nothing could stand.

The only hope was that they had been descending the back of the mountain, and taken refuge somewhere in the valley for the night. The carriage was ordered out, and Mr Rimbolt and Scarfe started on what seemed a forlorn hope. For an hour or two they pa.s.sed and repa.s.sed the valley road, inquiring at every cottage and farm without result.

At last, just as they were resolving to give it up for the night, Appleby pulled up the horses suddenly, and said he had heard a shout.

Instantly they jumped out and shouted back; and now, following the direction of the voice, far up the great slope, they _met_ Jeffreys, with the boy leaning on his arm safe, but almost exhausted.

Neither of them retained a vivid recollection of that drive home.

Jeffreys was vaguely conscious of them calling on the way for the doctor, and taking him along in the carriage. He also heard Scarfe say something to Mr Rimbolt in tones of commiseration, in which something was added about the inconsiderateness and untrustworthiness of Jeffreys.

But for the rest he reclined back in his seat, scarcely conscious of anything but the rest and warmth.

At Wildtree, the now familiar scene of the whole household gathered panic-struck an the threshold drove him precipitately to his room. He knew what to expect if he stayed there.

Jeffreys dropped asleep with the dog's howl ringing weirdly in his ears.

In his dreams it seemed to change into that still more terrible howl which had stunned him long ago on the Bolsover meadow. It followed him as he carried young Forrester in his arms across that fatal ledge. It was pitch dark; and on the ledge Scarfe stood to drive him back. Then suddenly a new bright path seemed to open at his side, into which he stepped with his precious burden. And as he did so he saw, far off, Raby standing at the end of the way.

It was ten o'clock when he awoke; but the house was still asleep. Only a few servants were stirring; and even Walker had taken advantage of the occasion to ”sleep in.”