Story 3--Chapter XXI.
Just in Time.
Immediately after the victory over the convicts, all attention was drawn to the ledge; but not before the wounded had received the needful attention, careful arrangements being made to prevent farther danger.
But there was a manifest repugnance exhibited amongst those present to attempt to mount the ledge, whose silence terrified the men who had but a few minutes before faced death by rifle and knife; but at last, stern and rugged of brow, John Lawler laid down his gun, and, with much difficulty, made his way up to stand upon the ledge, peering forward into the rift for a few moments, and then, stifling the sob which rose from his breast, he turned sorrowfully, and pointed to the rough green rope yet lying by; and, upon its being thrown up, he held one end, while a couple of his companions climbed to his side.
“The savage isn’t dead,” said one, kneeling by Wahika’s side, and laying a hand upon his breast.
Carefully making the rough rope fast round him, they lowered the savage down; when, with the tears dimming their eyes, the three stout-hearted men stood gazing upon the couple before them, till they were reverently lowered down in the same way, to be received in the arms of Mr Meadows, who then knelt anxiously, rose hastily to fetch water and dash it in their faces, and afterwards tried to force some between their teeth.
“No hope, sir,” whispered Lawler sorrowfully, as he watched his proceedings.
“Mr Lawler,” was the stern reply, “it is our duty on this earth never to be too soon disheartened. I have hope here; and I pray heaven that that hope may not be vain.”
In spite of his weakness, Mr Meadows was now unceasing in his efforts to restore animation to those who had been found upon the rocky ledge. For a time, though, all his toil seemed vain. It was a hard battle, too; for he who ministered was more fit to receive ministrations.
At last, though, there was a faint sigh from Katie’s lips; and, soon after, a few muttered, unmeaning words from Murray told that the flame of life still burned feebly.
Wahika, too, with the hardihood of the savage, had, sooner even than his fellow-sufferers, shown that he was ready to fight for the last few sparks of life faintly burning in his breast; though had the rough, surgical aid of the old clergyman been much longer delayed, those sparks must have died out.
“Little flower of Moa’s Nest?” he said at last, in an inquiring whisper, as his eager eyes gazed from face to face.
“Safe, I hope, friend savage,” said Mr Meadows, as he laid a cool, wet hand upon the New Zealander’s fevered brow, when a quiet, satisfied smile flitted over the tattooed face; and he closed his eyes, to wait patiently, as became a warrior, for the fate that was to be his.
“Thank heaven, friend Lawler!” said Mr Meadows, at the end of an hour; “matters are even looking hopeful. I was ready to despair myself at one time; but providentially, I was able to conquer the weakness. Prompt action, John Lawler—prompt action has gained us the day. And now, good men and true, prepare something in the shape of a litter, and let us bear these poor sufferers gently down from this dreadful place before the night falls.”
“Mind! Take care! Here, lean on me, sir,” cried Lawler eagerly; for Mr Meadows had turned deadly pale, and now reeled, and would have fallen but for the friendly arm.
“Thanks. Lawler, thanks,” said Mr Meadows. “I’m afraid that I am very weak. I feel unstrung by what we have gone through; and it only wanted the sight of that poor fellow Bray, carried down—but a few hours ago a strong, healthy man—now so much clay—it only wanted that to completely overcome me.”
In a few minutes, though, Mr Meadows’s brave heart sustained him again; and in spite of all advice to the contrary, he insisted upon superintending the removal of the sufferers, himself adjusting their heads, that the rough journey might not add fresh pangs.