She
We rose and stretched ourselves, and looked at the cloud-wreaths
stained the colour of blood by that red ray as they tore through
the sickening depths beneath, and then at the empty space between
the swaying stone and the quivering rock, and, in our hearts,
despaired, and prepared for death. Surely we could not clear
it—desperate though we were.
“Who is to go first?” said I.
“Do you, old fellow,” answered Leo. “I will sit upon the other
side of the stone to steady it. You must take as much run as you
can, and jump high; and God have mercy on us, say I.”
I acquiesced with a nod, and then I did a thing I had never done
since Leo was a little boy. I turned and put my arm round him,
and kissed him on the forehead. It sounds rather French, but as a
fact I was taking my last farewell of a man whom I could not have
loved more if he had been my own son twice over.
“Good-bye, my boy,” I said, “I hope that we shall meet again,
wherever it is that we go to.”
The fact was I did not expect to live another two minutes.
Next I retreated to the far side of the rock, and waited till one
of the chopping gusts of wind got behind me, and then I ran the
length of the huge stone, some three or four and thirty feet, and
sprang wildly out into the dizzy air. Oh! the sickening terrors
that I felt as I launched myself at that little point of rock,
and the horrible sense of despair that shot through my brain as I
realised that I had _jumped short!_ but so it was, my feet never
touched the point, they went down into space, only my hands and
body came in contact with it. I gripped at it with a yell, but
one hand slipped, and I swung right round, holding by the other,
so that I faced the stone from which I had sprung. Wildly I
stretched up with my left hand, and this time managed to grasp a
knob of rock, and there I hung in the fierce red light, with
thousands of feet of empty air beneath me. My hands were holding
to either side of the under part of the spur, so that its point
was touching my head. Therefore, even if I could have found the
strength, I could not pull myself up. The most that I could do
would be to hang for about a minute, and then drop down, down
into the bottomless pit. If any man can imagine a more hideous
position, let him speak! All I know is that the torture of that
half-minute nearly turned my brain.
I heard Leo give a cry, and then suddenly saw him in mid air
springing up and out like a chamois. It was a splendid leap that
he took under the influence of his terror and despair, clearing
the horrible gulf as if it were nothing, and, landing well on to
the rocky point, he threw himself upon his face, to prevent his
pitching off into the depths. I felt the spur above me shake
beneath the shock of his impact, and as it did so I saw the huge
rocking-stone, that had been violently depressed by him as he
sprang, fly back when relieved of his weight till, for the first
time during all these centuries, it got beyond its balance, fell
with a most awful crash right into the rocky chamber which had
once served the philosopher Noot for a hermitage, and, I have no
doubt, for ever sealed the passage that leads to the Place of
Life with some hundreds of tons of rock.
All this happened in a second, and curiously enough,
notwithstanding my terrible position, I noted it involuntarily,
as it were. I even remember thinking that no human being would go
down that dread path again.
Next instant I felt Leo seize me by the right wrist with both
hands. By lying flat on the point of rock he could just reach me.
“You must let go and swing yourself clear,” he said in a calm and
collected voice, “and then I will try and pull you up, or we will
both go together. Are you ready?”
By way of answer I let go, first with my left hand and then with
the right, and, as a consequence, swayed out clear of the
overshadowing rock, my weight hanging upon Leo’s arms. It was a
dreadful moment. He was a very powerful man, I knew, but would
his strength be equal to lifting me up till I could get a hold on
the top of the spur, when owing to his position he had so little
purchase?
For a few seconds I swung to and fro, while he gathered himself
for the effort, and then I heard his sinews cracking above me,
and felt myself lifted up as though I were a little child, till I
got my left arm round the rock, and my chest was resting on it.
The rest was easy; in two or three more seconds I was up, and we
were lying panting side by side, trembling like leaves, and with
the cold perspiration of terror pouring from our skins.
And then, as before, the light went out like a lamp.
For some half-hour we lay thus without speaking a word, and then
at length began to creep along the great spur as best we might in
the dense gloom. As we drew towards the face of the cliff,
however, from which the spur sprang out like a spike from a wall,
the light increased, though only a very little, for it was night
overhead. After that the gusts of wind decreased, and we got
along rather better, and at last reached the mouth of the first
cave or tunnel. But now a fresh trouble stared as in the face:
our oil was gone, and the lamps were, no doubt, crushed to powder
beneath the fallen rocking-stone. We were even without a drop of
water to stay our thirst, for we had drunk the last in the
chamber of Noot. How were we to see to make our way through this
last boulder-strewn tunnel?
Clearly all that we could do was to trust to our sense of
feeling, and attempt the passage in the dark, so in we crept,
fearing that if we delayed to do so our exhaustion would overcome
us, and we should probably lie down and die where we were.
Oh, the horrors of that last tunnel! The place was strewn with
rocks, and we fell over them, and knocked ourselves up against
them till we were bleeding from a score of wounds. Our only guide
was the side of the cavern, which we kept touching, and so
bewildered did we grow in the darkness that we were several times
seized with the terrifying thought that we had turned, and were
travelling the wrong way. On we went, feebly, and still more
feebly, for hour after hour, stopping every few minutes to rest,
for our strength was spent. Once we fell asleep, and, I think,
must have slept for some hours, for, when we woke, our limbs were
quite stiff, and the blood from our blows and scratches had
caked, and was hard and dry upon our skin. Then we dragged
ourselves on again, till at last, when despair was entering into
our hearts, we once more saw the light of day, and found
ourselves outside the tunnel in the rocky fold on the outer
surface of the cliff that, it will be remembered, led into it.
It was early morning—that we could tell by the feel of the sweet
air and the look of the blessed sky, which we had never hoped to
see again. It was, so near as we knew, an hour after sunset when
we entered the tunnel, so it followed that it had taken us the
entire night to crawl through that dreadful place.
“One more effort, Leo,” I gasped, “and we shall reach the slope
where Billali is, if he hasn’t gone. Come, don’t give way,” for
he had cast himself upon his face. He rose, and, leaning on each
other, we got down that fifty feet or so of cliff—somehow, I have
not the least notion how. I only remember that we found ourselves
lying in a heap at the bottom, and then once more began to drag
ourselves along on our hands and knees towards the grove where
_She_ had told Billali to wait her re-arrival, for we could not
walk another foot. We had not gone fifty yards in this fashion
when suddenly one of the mutes emerged from the trees on our
left, through which, I presume, he had been taking a morning
stroll, and came running up to see what sort of strange animals
we were. He stared, and stared, and then held up his hands in
horror, and nearly fell to the ground. Next, he started off as
hard as he could for the grove some two hundred yards away. No
wonder that he was horrified at our appearance, for we must have
been a shocking sight. To begin, Leo, with his golden curls
turned a snowy white, his clothes nearly rent from his body, his
worn face and his hands a mass of bruises, cuts, and
blood-encrusted filth, was a sufficiently alarming spectacle, as
he painfully dragged himself along the ground, and I have no
doubt that I was little better to look on. I know that two days
afterwards when I inspected my face in some water I scarcely
recognised myself. I have never been famous for beauty, but there
was something beside ugliness stamped upon my features that I
have never got rid of until this day, something resembling that
wild look with which a startled person wakes from deep sleep more
than anything else that I can think of. And really it is not to
be wondered at. What I do wonder at is that we escaped at all
with our reason.
Presently, to my intense relief, I saw old Billali hurrying
towards us, and even then I could scarcely help smiling at the
expression of consternation on his dignified countenance.
“Oh, my Baboon! my Baboon!” he cried, “my dear son, is it indeed
thee and the Lion? Why, his mane that was ripe as corn is white
like the snow. Whence come ye? and where is the Pig, and where
too _She-who-must-be-obeyed_?”
“Dead, both dead,” I answered; “but ask no questions; help us,
and give us food and water, or we too shall die before thine
eyes. Seest thou not that our tongues are black for want of
water? How, then, can we talk?”
“Dead!” he gasped. “Impossible. _She_ who never dies—dead, how
can it be?” and then, perceiving, I think, that his face was
being watched by the mutes who had come running up, he checked
himself, and motioned to them to carry us to the camp, which they
did.
Fortunately when we arrived some broth was boiling on the fire,
and with this Billali fed us, for we were too weak to feed
ourselves, thereby I firmly believe saving us from death by
exhaustion. Then he bade the mutes wash the blood and grime from
us with wet cloths, and after that we were laid down upon piles
of aromatic grass, and instantly fell into the dead sleep of
absolute exhaustion of mind and body.
XXVIII.
OVER THE MOUNTAIN
The next thing I recollect is a feeling of the most dreadful stiffness,
and a sort of vague idea passing through my half-awakened brain that I
was a carpet that had just been beaten. I opened my eyes, and the first
thing they fell on was the venerable countenance of our old friend
Billali, who was seated by the side of the improvised bed upon which I
was sleeping, and thoughtfully stroking his long beard. The sight of
him at once brought back to my mind a recollection of all that we had
recently passed through, which was accentuated by the vision of poor
Leo lying opposite to me, his face knocked almost to a jelly, and his