Part 26

With great caution Jack and the boy stole round the settlement towards Mr. Brown's hut. Unfortunately, as Jack thought, a bright moon was shining fitfully through gaps in the scudding cloud; and having to take advantage of every patch of shadow when it appeared, their progress was slow. The wind was bitter cold; the spring-like promise of the earlier part of the day had been succeeded by a sharp frost, which had already hardened the slush and mud except in places sheltered from the blast. The thin ice on standing pools broke under their tread, with a crackle that gave Jack a tremor lest it should have been heard. But there was not a light or a movement in the settlement, nor any sound save the whistling of the wind and the booming of the surf on the shore.

Stealthily they made their way up the hillside. They arrived at the hut. The door was closed, the window dark. Jack tried to peer through interstices between the rough logs of the wall; he put his ear against the wood; he heard nothing, saw no glimmer of light. With a sinking heart he pushed gently at the door. It yielded to his touch. He entered, groping in the dark; and bidding Hi Lo close the door, he struck a match and held it above his head. Feeble as the light was, it showed enough to strike him cold with despair. The hut was empty, and in disorder. A chair was overturned; a half-burnt candle lay on the floor; the table was pushed into a corner, and a book had fallen beneath it and stood on its bent leaves. Jack picked up the candle and lit it. The clean boards of the floor were marked with many muddy stains as of scuffling feet. Dreading to search, Jack yet looked for traces of blood; there were none. But among the marks one struck him particularly--a huge footprint, too large to have been made by either Count Walewski or his father. Someone had entered before the ground outside had frozen. But the struggle--everything in the bare hut spoke of a struggle--must have taken place after the fall of dusk, for with a pair of old perspective glasses found in the junk Jack had kept a close watch on the hut, and had seen his father enter, late in the afternoon, with another figure--presumably the count.

Dazed with this sudden set-back to his hopes, Jack sat down on one of the chairs, resting his throbbing head upon his hands. A feeling of utter helplessness paralysed him. Hi Lo stood watching him, the boy's whole attitude one of mute sympathy. Had the authorities got wind of the plot, thought Jack, and again spirited his father away? Had Godunof, the ex-convict, betrayed him? Scarcely, or a police visit would have been made to the junk, and he himself arrested. He tried to pull himself together; he must do something, and at once; but what? He could not tell; he was in the dark; and Gabriele in the junk was waiting, listening, wondering why ere this she was not in her father's arms.

Bending forward in his misery, suddenly his eye fell on the huge footmark made with a clay-clogged boot on the white floor. The boot must have been of quite unusual size; what could have been the stature of the man who owned it? Jack suddenly sprang up; if there was such a footmark within, would there not be others, similar, without? By them could not the assailants be traced? He was convinced that his father and the count had been attacked: should he rouse the settlement? Their lives might be in danger; in warning the authorities he would at the worst only risk his own liberty. But supposing the authorities themselves should be concerned in the matter! To appeal to them would then be worse than useless; he would merely sacrifice his own freedom, and with it all possibility of serving his father.

Still the footmark stared at him. An idea suggested itself. Could he trace the man himself? He had never followed any trail but that of a paper-chase; but what of that? It was worth a trial. In a rapid whisper he told his thoughts to Hi Lo. The boy nodded with full comprehension. Jack blew out the light, and pocketed the candle; then the two groped their way to the door and issued forth into the moonlit night.

*CHAPTER XXIX*

*The Heart of the Hill*

Trackers--Voices--Into the Open--Waiting for Dawn--Demons--Greater Love--Choke Damp--Found--A Rusty Chain--From the Depths--Explanations

The moonlight and the frost, which Jack had been disposed to regard as hindrances, were now all in his favour. The moon threw just sufficient light to enable him to avoid obstacles and to see the impressions of footsteps in the mud, which the frost had suddenly hardened. Bending low, he was at first unable to distinguish, among the many footprints in front of the hut, the large one for which he was so intently looking; but a little distance away he had no difficulty in picking out two separate trails of the enormous foot, one approaching the hut, the other receding from it. It was the latter that must be followed, and with Hi Lo at his side Jack walked as quickly as possible over the glistening track.

Every now and then the traces disappeared, for whenever the moonlight was obstructed by a cloud, a hut, or a tree, it was impossible to see clearly enough to distinguish them. Then it was that Hi Lo proved himself invaluable, and made Jack thankful he had not refused the boy's request. It was he, as a rule, who succeeded in finding the lost trail; scouting ahead like a sleuth-hound, he seemed to be able to see in the dark.

The way led steeply uphill. It was hard and rough going, following a narrow road probably used for the haulage of timber. Under the thin coating of ice the mud was deep, and at times their feet sank up to the ankle. The little hamlet of log huts was soon left behind; they came into a clearing dotted with the low stumps of trees; here, evidently, had been felled the timber of which the huts were built. Then they passed into a densely wooded clump, through which in the darkness they had to grope their way. Once or twice Jack ventured to light a match; this being the sheltered side of the hill, there was no wind, and during the few moments of feeble light Hi Lo could assure himself that they had not lost the trail. Crossing more rapidly another open stretch, they entered a still thicker and darker patch of wood. When, after going some distance into this, Jack again struck a match, the boy, peering on hands and knees, declared that the footprints were no longer visible. They must needs go back to pick up the trail, far more difficult to distinguish in these forest depths than in the open. The search took time; anxiety was all the while tearing at Jack's heart-strings, but he schooled himself to patience. At last they came again upon the huge footprint with which they had now grown familiar. Lighting the candle-end, Jack traced the mark for a few yards on the upward path; then, together with the other footprints, it suddenly disappeared.

"What in the world are we to do?" whispered Jack.

The forest was dense on each side of the path. At the few points in the course of their journey where a gap let through the moonlight, they had seen extraordinary effects, the trees seeming to have been tossed about by giants, lying at all angles against the trunks that had arrested their fall. But the path had been cleared of these obstructions, for if not removed, the waleshnik, as the fallen timber is called, would soon block up any forest road in Sakhalin.

Groping about, Hi Lo at length discovered, to the right of the main path, a fallen tree that concealed a narrower track, made by men, but apparently no longer in use, and partially overgrown. For some time the keen little fellow's search failed to find the footprint, but at last, at a break in the undergrowth, he pounced upon it. The man with the big feet had evidently passed this way. Jack struck up the path; it was steeper now, and blocked at many points by trees that had been allowed to remain where they fell; but it was fairly broad, and at one time must have been as important and as frequently used as the path they had just left. Here and there they came to a clearing--the work of fire; blackened stumps standing grim and gaunt in the moonlight. Then on into the forest beyond, picking their way by touch rather than sight, barking their shins and rasping their elbows against obstacles they were unable to avoid.

The air was pervaded by the musty smell of decayed vegetation. It was silent as the grave save when a quick rustle told of some wild beast scurrying away into the thicket. Suddenly Hi Lo stopped, putting his hand on Jack's arm.

"What is it?" murmured Jack.

The boy instantly clapped his hand upon his master's mouth, and pulled him from the path through a mass of tangled undergrowth. They were at the edge of a small clearing. Through the still air Jack could now hear voices ahead; then came the faint glimmer of a light; and soon, as they crouched breathless behind a friendly trunk, two figures appeared on the farther side of the clearing, coming towards them, one carrying a lantern. The men's voices were low; even in this remote spot they were doubtless mindful that it is illegal to be abroad after dark. Jack held his breath as they passed within two yards of him. He caught a few words in Russian.

"How long do you think?"

"About three or four days--unless they can eat coal!"

Then a hoarse chuckle.

The voices receded; the light died away; the men were gone. One of them was tall and broad, a son of Anak: clearly the owner of the giant foot.

His heart thumping against his ribs, Jack waited until he thought all was safe; then with Hi Lo he recommenced his climb up the wooded hill. He had no doubt that these men, whose voices the boy had fortunately heard in time, were concerned in the disappearance of his father and the count. But what had been done with them? Were it not for the evidences of the struggle Jack would have been tempted to suppose that the men were in league with the two prisoners, conniving at or assisting their escape. But the state of the hut belied any such thought.

It was some time before he ventured to strike another match in order to make sure that he was still on the track; the merest glimmer seen from below might lead to disaster. When at last he thought it safe to do so, he saw clear indications of the recent passage of several feet. He hurried on at the greatest speed the difficult path and the darkness allowed, and after some twenty minutes emerged upon a kind of table-land above the bay. He remembered seeing it from the junk--a huge terrace in the hills, sloping gradually upward, and after about a mile ending in another steep incline. The road was here more easy to follow; there were no fallen trees; it was the so-called tundra of Sakhalin. The trees were not so thick: through gaps in them he caught glimpses of the sea, silvery in the moonlight; and he thought of the fair girl waiting in the junk, now doubtless in an agony of apprehension regarding her father's fate.

The two pressed on. By and by they came to the steeper ascent. It was necessary once more to verify the trail. Fearful lest a gleam should give the alarm below, Jack took off his hat and struck a match within it. There were the footsteps, going up and down the hill, which was not, like the slope below, covered with trees. Indeed, during the last few hundred yards the two searchers had stumbled over sleepers, rails, and other things indicating a railroad either abandoned or in course of construction. Once they came full upon an upturned truck; a little beyond, upon a coil of wire rope. Jack stopped more than once to examine these impediments, always careful to conceal his light; and he concluded that they were rather the relics of a railway than material for a new line. He was still wondering what had tempted Russian enterprise to construct and then to abandon a railway in this spot, so remote and difficult of access, when the explanation came suddenly. He found himself among the outworks of a deserted coal-mine. The ground was littered with timber, dross, rusty tools; the path had come to an end; and Jack stopped abruptly, at a loss what to do.

It was hopeless in the darkness to attempt to explore the workings, for he had no doubt now that his father and Count Walewski had been brought here and left in some remote part of the mine, to perish of starvation. He saw through the villainous scheme. "About three or four days--unless they can eat coal!"--the words were now explained. What the motive was he could not guess. The conspirators had shrunk from murdering their victims outright; but when starvation had done its work they would no doubt come upon the scene, discover the dead bodies, and claim the reward which the governor would probably have offered for news of the fugitives.

The matches were used up; it would be dangerous to attempt to trace out a route in thick darkness. All that could be done was to wait for the dawn. What that might bring forth who could tell? With morning light the prisoners would certainly be missed, and a hue and cry would be raised. Even if the plot were the work of officials, still a search would be made. In that case it would be perfunctory; while if they were innocent undoubtedly they would scour the country all round the settlement. There would be little to guide them. The main path from the hut was largely used; many tracks crossed and recrossed on it; and if the night's frost was succeeded by a thaw, as was almost certain, the footprints would become mere puddles and give no clue.

Jack and the boy made themselves as comfortable as possible in the shelter of an overhanging cliff; but the hours till dawn seemed to creep along. Jack's thoughts dwelt in turn on the prisoners and their fate, and on Gabriele waiting in the junk. She was dressed in Chinese clothes, but would she escape undetected when the vessels in the bay were searched in the morning? Jack was tempted to send Hi Lo back, so that she might be warned; but second thoughts counselled him to wait until daylight. He might then at least let her know whether the count was alive or dead.

There was no sleep that night for either Jack or Hi Lo. As soon as it was light enough to see the ground they resumed their search. Almost immediately Jack understood why they had failed to pick up the trail the night before. The party had climbed on to a ledge of bare rock a few feet above the ground, and on this their boots had left no mark. But a little farther up the hill the track could be distinguished. It led directly towards a dark opening in the cliff--one of the galleries of the deserted mine.

As they approached the opening, Hi Lo began to shake with fear. A mine to an unsophisticated Chinaman is a terrible thing. He believes that the delving of the earth lets loose innumerable demons, enraged at the disturbance of their homes. So strong is this belief that mining is actually forbidden by law, though the law is now fast becoming a dead letter. Hi Lo knew nothing of western progress, and he implored Jack to turn aside from this black tunnel into the earth. Jack did not laugh at the boy's fears; he told him to remain at the entrance and give warning if anyone approached. Then he stepped into the mouth of the gallery.

He had already concluded that the mine consisted of galleries, not of shafts. The outcrop of coal was visible in the side of the hill. He therefore had no fear of coming unexpectedly upon a pit. But he groped his way along with great caution; the truck rails had not been removed from the floor of the gallery. The air was pure; he felt indeed a slight draught, which pointed to the existence of an outlet of some kind in the direction in which he was going. After proceeding for a few minutes he was brought to an abrupt halt by a solid wall of rock in front. Feeling each side of the gallery, he found that the passage branched off to right and left. Which turning should he take? He stood in indecision; in the darkness there was nothing to guide his choice. Then it occurred to him to shout. If his father and the count were in the mine, they were doubtless alone: they would hear his call, though it were inaudible outside. He gave a halloo, and listened; he heard nothing but the sound rumbling along the passages. He shouted again; there was an answering cry behind him; then the patter of footsteps hurrying, stumbling along towards him. Facing round, he raised his fist to fell an enemy; but a small form cannoned against him, and a boy's voice uttered a gasping yell. It was Hi Lo. Hearing the shout, he had unhesitatingly plunged into the blackness. Anxious as the moment was, Jack admired the spirit of the little fellow, who, to come to his assistance, had braved dangers none the less terrifying because so purely imaginary.

"Well done!" said Jack, patting his arm. "Now run back and wait for me. I'm all right here."

"My no can do," said Hi Lo decisively. "My stay-lo long-side masta. Big piecee debbils this-side; my helpum masta fightey; my no can lun wailo."

"Very well. Keep close."

Again and again he shouted, always without response. Then at a venture he turned into the right-hand passage. After a few yards he felt Hi Lo's hold on his tunic relax. The boy had fallen to the ground. Hastily stooping he picked him up, almost falling as he breathed the lower stratum of air, and staggered with his burden to the main gallery. He had but just reached it when he himself was overcome and sank to the floor. He did not lose consciousness, but his head buzzed and swam, and he felt a horrid nausea. When he was somewhat recovered, he carried Hi Lo back to the entrance, and was relieved to find that in the open air the boy quickly regained consciousness. But he could not expose the little fellow again to such peril; bidding him remain at the spot, and on no account to follow, he plunged once more into the darkness.

This time he turned into the left-hand passage, and found that it sloped rapidly upward. Before long he was brought up by a similar obstacle; the gallery again divided. He felt a slight current of air strike against him from the left-hand side; in that direction he continued to grope along. If the words he had overheard meant anything, they meant that the prisoners might be expected to survive for a few days. As that would be impossible in the foul air of the unventilated passages, he could not be wrong in pressing forward wherever he could breathe. Again he shouted; again there was no reply but a series of echoes. But moving on again, and listening intently, he fancied he heard a low continuous rumbling ahead; this could not be an echo. The sound grew stronger as he advanced; in a few moments he understood its cause; it was unmistakably the sound of falling water. Stepping now with still greater caution, he soon became aware that he was within a few yards of the waterfall; the sound seemed to rise from beneath his feet. He threw himself on his face and crawled forward--and the floor ended; he was on the verge of a precipice.

With a shudder and a long breath he drew back. For some distance he had noticed that the walls of the passage suggested to the touch stone rather than coal. They were hard as flint, and the roof was so low that he had to bend almost double. Apparently it was a prospector's gallery, not a real working. He wished he had a match; in the current of air that he now clearly felt, there was little risk of explosion from fire-damp. But his box was empty. He understood that the sound of the waterfall must hitherto have smothered his shouts; but if he hallooed now he might be heard, if there was anyone within hearing. Making a bell of his hands he uttered a shrill coo-ee. It gave him a kind of shock when, apparently from only a few feet below him, there came an answering call.

"Is that you, Father?"

"Yes. For heaven's sake be careful, Jack. It is a sheer drop. Wait a moment."

Mr. Brown struck a match. Jack peered over the edge. There, some fifteen feet below, on a broad ledge of rock sprayed by the waterfall that plunged past it into a dark abyss, stood his father and Count Walewski. The rock above them was perpendicular and smooth; on either side of them the ledge rounded inwards; in front of them yawned the unfathomable gulf. As he looked, the match went out, and with the return of complete darkness a feeling of terror seized upon him; his limbs shook, his skin broke into a cold sweat.

"Are you there, old boy?"

"Yes."

"You've no matches, I suppose?"

"No, but--of course, I've a candle-end." Jack was pulling himself together. "Do you think you could pitch up your box, Father?"

"I can try. I'll strike a match; the count will hold it so that I can get an aim."

Both spoke in a loud tone, to be heard above the splash and roar of the fall. Count Walewski held the lighted match aloft; Jack stretched himself to the edge of the precipice; his father, retreating a few feet along the ledge, took careful aim, and tossed the box of matches gently into Jack's outstretched hands. In a moment the scene was faintly illumined.

"You see how we stand, Jack; can you get us up?"

"You were let down by a rope?"

"Yes; they took it away with them."

Jack remembered the coil of wire-rope he had noticed at the entrance to the mine. It had no doubt been formerly used for hauling the trucks.

"Wait a few minutes, Father. I'm going to see what I can do."

"Blow the candle out; there isn't much of it left."

Again the scene was in darkness. Jack hurried back along the passage, and found Hi Lo at the entrance. Together they retraced their steps to the spot where the coil of wire lay. As Jack feared, it was too heavy to carry; it proved too thick to break. Wasting no time here, he sent Hi Lo in one direction while he went in another to search for any stray rope that would be long enough for his purpose. He came to a tumble-down hut which from its contents he guessed had been the foreman's tool-house. Rummaging about among its rubbish, he found a chain some ten yards long, rusty, but quite strong enough to bear a man's weight. In a corner stood a broken sledge-hammer; and among a heap of bolts, clamps, and miscellaneous old iron he came upon several iron wedges such as are used for breaking hard ground and rock. With these they hurried back to the waterfall. Lighting the candle again, Jack, now in complete possession of his faculties, saw that the ledge on which his father and Count Walewski stood was at the base of a cavern. By the feeble glimmer he drove two of the wedges into the floor of the passage. Then he quickly attached one end of the chain to them and lowered the other end. In this Mr. Brown made a loop, which he tested.

"The Count first," he shouted.

The poor old nobleman, who was ten years his elder, and older than his years through the sufferings he had endured, sat in the loop and clung to the chain with his thin feeble hands. Hi Lo coiled the chain round the wedges to prevent an accident, and Jack, steadily hauling on the chain, brought the Count--a very light weight--to the edge of the precipice. Then he firmly secured the chain to the wedges, and, his hands being now free, lifted the Pole over the brink. The old man, broken down by his terrible experiences and exhausted from lack of food, was at first helpless; but when he had recovered from the terror of his ascent, all three hauled on the chain, and succeeded in drawing Mr. Brown up.

"Thank God!" he said, as he gripped Jack's hand.

The Count murmured a feeble but heartfelt "Amen!"

"Let us get away from the noise of the waterfall," said Jack. "Then we can talk over the next step. Please God, we'll get you clear away yet, Father."