Story 3--Chapter X.
Amid the Ashes.
Edward Murray sank back exhausted, as Katie was snatched from his arms; but the desire for life was yet strong in him, and he tried to force his way along, just as the fierce wind sweeping up the valley drove back the flame and smoke from the doorway, giving him again the breath of life, as he was on the point of suffocation. But he was now scorching; and the little sense left told him that his last moments were at hand, when he felt his extended arms seized, and he was forced from the flaming building, to lie almost insensible for a while, till his eyes unclosed upon the tattooed face of Wahika, the savage lying beside him, until the convicts had turned a ridge of the gap. Then, lifting him in his arms, the native bore the young man a hundred yards into the shade of the trees behind the desolated farm, and scooping water in a broad leaf, poured the cold grateful fluid over his scorched face, and gave him some to drink.
Then he disappeared, but to return after a short time with the body of the poor old settler—Mrs Lee helping him with his burden—which they laid reverently down; when Wahika again took his departure, to help in one of the shepherds who was much injured, but able to lend some aid.
The savage was apparently unhurt, and he busied himself in the dark shadowy dell, where they lay concealed watching the reflection of the fire, by applying cooling leaves to wound and bruise, and bandaging them after the rude surgical fashion of his tribe. He did all, too, in a quiet fashion, with hands as soft and gentle as a woman’s, while the sufferers lay in a stunned, helpless state, hardly seeming to realise the horrors of the past night. For the dawn was fast approaching, and as the glow from the burning building slowly sank, far above their heads upon the icy summit of the mountain appeared the first gilding of the rising sun, making the snowy pinnacles to flash and sparkle in the glorious light of another day.
The savage can live where the European would starve; and Wahika soon contrived some food for the three who were in his charge; but when, feeling somewhat revived, Murray would have sought the ruins, Wahika restrained him, laying his hand upon his arm, and listening with bent head and distended nostrils, before gliding silently away to return before many minutes had elapsed, to whisper in his broken English the words, “Come back.”
At the same time he pointed down the valley, before helping the wounded shepherd farther back into the little ravine in which they lay, to where the concealment was better; then going forward, once more he crept from tree to tree, till he could peer down from behind a crag, and see the ruffianly crew, trooping back from the bay to the farm, stand in consultation for a few minutes, when one of their number pointing higher up the valley, they resumed their irregular march.
But there was a stoppage directly, and some confusion, and the sharp-eyed savage saw that one of the women, whom he soon made out to be Katie, had fallen, and that some arrangements were being made to carry her, when a fresh start was made, the poor girl having sunk down, partly from exhaustion, partly overcome by emotion at the sight which greeted her.
Wahika started then, for a few yards below him he heard an agonising exclamation, and he leaped down just in time to throw himself upon Murray, as he was rising to hurry to what must have been instant death.
“No good—no good! Stop; and Wahika get tribe to come and—”
He stopped; but there was a strange look in his eye as he brandished his club, and then held the young man back amongst the leaves, for his strength was but feeble as compared with that of the savage.
“Wahika friend—tribe friends,” he said after awhile, during which they had watched the convicts till they disappeared; and they were then about to return to the little ravine, when a low cry, as of some one in distress, smote upon their ears, apparently from the direction of the smouldering house, for they could not see it from where they stood.
There being apparently now no reason for concealment, the convicts being far up in a bend of the Gap, Murray slowly followed the savage down till they could peer through the leaves, when the former uttered a hearty “Thank heaven!” for, kneeling amongst the ashes, his face buried in his hands, and his whole frame shaken by the sobs which burst from his breast, was Mr Meadows, weeping like a child, and uttering disjointed words, as he mourned for the destruction that had come upon this peaceful home.
He did not hear their approach, for he was praying so fervently for those whom he had every reason to suppose dead, that Murray had stiffly knelt by his side and touched him ere he started to his feet; but only to kneel again and embrace his wounded companion as though he had been a son.
“Thank heaven! thank heaven!” he exclaimed fervently; “I thought you were there,”—and he pointed to the smouldering heap close by. “Has any one else escaped? Two of the women are there,”—and he pointed up the valley.
“And one is poor;”—Murray was too weak to overcome his emotion; he could not utter the name.
“I feared so—I feared so,” sighed Mr Meadows. “And her mother? Safe? Thank Providence! but let us get away from here; they may come back, and then there will be no mercy. Heaven bless you, my son!” he exclaimed fervently and gratefully to Wahika; for, seeing a gaping wound still bleeding upon the old man’s forehead, he had soaked a piece of native mat in the spring hard by, and begun tenderly to bind it up. “And you are a savage!” muttered Mr Meadows half to himself. “How can I preach to such as you, to leave your simple faith, when your white brethren do such deeds as these? No, no!” he cried; “not brethren, but the outcasts of our civilisation, let loose to raven and destroy. Thanks, thanks, my son; heaven bless you! Let us go now, friend Murray, and see those who are saved.”
The distance was but short; but, in pain from their injuries, they proceeded but slowly, Wahika stopping and looking back from time to time till they came up to him.
They had to pass the body of poor old Martin Lee; and here Mr Meadows paused, knelt down, took one stiffened hand, kissed it, and then softly replaced it by the old man’s side.
“Cut down like the wheat, and gathered into the heavenly garner. A true, blunt, honest Englishman, and a dear friend, Edward Murray.”
A tear or two fell upon the face of the inanimate form, as the old minister bent his head over him for a few moments, and then he rose.
“He looks at peace, friend Edward. Would that we could have saved him! I am weak now,” he said, wiping his eyes in a simple undisguised fashion; “but I do not see why I should feel ashamed. Let us go on.”
It was a sad meeting between the widow and the clergyman; but there seemed no time for tears. Katie was in the hands of the convicts, and how was she to be saved?
There was little said that the savage could not comprehend, though he was not so ready at expressing himself; but he said simply, and with an earnestness which bespoke his feeling.
“Wahika go fetch bright flower back; but Wahika only one—men kill, and bright flower of Moa’s Nest not saved.”
“Yes,” said Mr Meadows, “it would be madness to go alone; we must have help and strength. You, Edward Murray, must seek friends in one direction; and, with heaven’s help, I will see poor Lee’s wife into safety, and bring friends from elsewhere to fall upon the rear of these Philistines. Perhaps, too, our dark friend can bring up some aid. Which way will you go, Murray?”
The young man gazed almost reproachfully in his face for a few moments; and then pointed up the valley, in the direction taken by the convicts.
Mr Meadows then turned to Wahika.
“And which way go you, friend?”
“Wahika go with white friend here,” was the reply.
“Almost too daring to be of any avail,” mused Mr Meadows. “Then it is to me alone falls the task of bringing up help.”
They stayed that day in the little ravine, trying to recruit their strength. There was but little difficulty in securing some provisions, for the convicts had been prodigal in the midst of plenty, and there were tokens of their waste in all directions. There were the lowing unmilked kine too, asking to be relieved of their abundance, and eggs in plenty. A little search also placed weapons in the hands of Murray; but Mr Meadows declined to accept the gun offered him by Wahika.
“No,” he said; “I dropped mine when I climbed through the window, and escaped through the outhouse, and I trust I may never have to take one again in hand. I shall not need it—at least, at present, for my duty is to retreat and summon aid.”
That night a grave, hastily scooped out by Wahika, received the body of poor old Martin Lee; and an hour afterwards Mrs Lee was mounted upon Joey, who came from the field where he was grazing at his master’s call, and accompanied by the savage and Edward Murray, Mr Meadows took hold of the bridle and led the way.
At the end of a few hundred yards, the track began to ascend the side of the valley, and Murray stopped.
“Send help as soon as you can, sir,” he said; “and heaven speed you!”
“Heaven speed you too!” said the old man fervently. “It is a desperate hazard you go upon; but I dare not say stay. Break a branch once and again to show your track, and remember that you can do no more now than watch the enemy. You are weak and unable to cope with one, even; so bear in mind that your best way of helping her we love is by stratagem.”
Murray took the cold hand of Mrs Lee, and tried in choking tones to say a word or two of comfort; but she rested the other hand upon his shoulder, and whispered the one word, “Katie!”
“Or death!” muttered Murray in an undertone, and they parted.