Part 26 (2/2)
Her thoughts went then to Lord Huntingford, her husband. There was scant regret in her heart over the fate of the old n.o.bleman. She was not cruel enough to rejoice, but there was a certain feeling of relief which she could not quell, try as she would, in the belief that he had gone down to death and a younger, n.o.bler man spared. The last she saw of her husband was when he broke past the officers and plunged out upon the deck, leaving her to her fate. That he had been instantly swept overboard she had no doubt. All she could remember of her thoughts at that thrilling moment was the brief, womanly cry for mercy to his soul.
After that came the lurch which prostrated her, and then Ridgeway's cry, ”Be brave, dearest!”
Bitter tears streamed down her cheeks as she thought of the strong-hearted Veath and the forsaken American girl--and all of the others in that merry company. It was not in such anguish as this that she summed up her individual loss.
Ridgeway was soon in the thick of the jungle. For two or three hours he plunged through beautiful glades, over swelling knolls, across tiny streams, but always through a waste of nature that, to all appearance, had never been touched by a human being save himself.
At last he dropped wearily upon a gra.s.sy mound and resigned himself to the conviction that they had been swept upon an absolutely unexplored, perhaps undiscovered, portion of the globe. It did not occur to his discouraged mind that he had covered less than five miles of what might be a comparatively small piece of uninhabited land and that somewhere not far distant lay the civilization for which he sought. His despairing mind magnified the horrors of their position to such an extent that he actually wondered how long it would be before death broke down their feeble resistance. Arising despondently, he turned his steps in the direction of the little cave.
It was not long before he reached a small sandy stretch about five hundred yards from the spot where he had left Lady Tennys. Little waves licked the short strip of sand lazily, seeming to invite him down to meet them on their approach from the big sea whose tidings of woe they bore. High, dark and ominous loomed the great rock on the south. He could not see the cave or the rivulet on account of obstructing trees and a curve in the sh.o.r.e, so he walked down to the very edge of the water, expecting to obtain a view from that point.
A startling discovery flashed upon him as he strode upon the beach.
There, in the white, soft sand were plainly revealed the footprints of a bare human foot. He rubbed his eyes and gazed again. Before him were a number of small footprints, running to and from the water. In a dazed, wondering way he sought to follow them, eventually finding where a single line of tracks led directly toward a clump of trees to his left.
At the edge of this he found a confusion of bewildering barefoot moulds, mixed with others unquestionably made by a shoe on the foot of a civilized person. Hurrying through the trees, fearful that savages had attacked Lady Tennys at this place, he was suddenly confronted by a spectacle that made him gasp. Down at the water's edge, over near the place where he had left her, he saw white garments spread upon the rocks. She was nowhere to be seen. Like a flash the truth came to him, and he looked at his watch in consternation. It was but three-thirty o'clock. He had told her he would be away until five or after.
Turning about, he dashed back into the depths of the wood. It was after five when he again approached the rendezvous, carrying a quant.i.ty of plums and other fruits and a number of gaudy feathers that he had found. Away back in the wood he began to shout to her, long before he was in sight of the hill. She answered cheerily, venturing into the wood to meet him. Her clothes were white, clean, even shapely.
CHAPTER XX
THE SIGN OF DISTRESS
The next morning before she was awake he arose and made a tour of the beach in quest of sh.e.l.l fish, took a plunge in the cool waters of the bay, and again inspected the little footprints in the sand. He smiled as he placed his own foot, a number nine, beside the dainty imprint. On his way back to the cave he killed a huge turtle, the meat of which he promised should keep them alive for several days, if nothing better could be found. As he turned the bend he saw her standing on the ledge at the mouth of the cave, the wind blowing her hair and skirts freely.
He called to her, and she turned her face eagerly in his direction. They met among the trees some distance from the spring.
”Where have you been?” she cried, her cheeks glowing.
”Hunting wild beasts,” he replied valiantly.
”Pooh! Wild flowers, you mean. I thought perhaps you had gone off to join the monkeys for an old-time frolic in the trees.”
”You won't be so frivolous when I tell you of the narrow escape I have had. See that trusty club? See the blood on it?” They were standing close to each other as he held up the blood-spattered stick.
”Oh, Hugh,” she gasped, ”is it blood?”
”Life's blood,” he answered laconically.
”Not yours, Hugh? You are not hurt?” she cried.
”This is the beast's blood, Tennys. I am not so much as scratched, but it was a frightful encounter,” he went on, with well-a.s.sumed gravity.
”Tell me about it. Where was it? What was it? Tell me everything,” she begged. He took her arm and together they proceeded toward their wild home.
”After breakfast I'll take you around the bend and prove to you my valor.”
”But I cannot wait and, besides, you have proved your valor. Do tell me where the blood came from.”
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