CHAPTER X.
BURIED ALIVE IN HIS ROOM.
For some reason then unknown to Roland, there was no candle in his room when the robbers shut the bolts outside; so he was obliged to make the best of the darkness and the solitude through the long autumn evening. As may be supposed, no air came to the sleeping rooms save through the mouth of the cavern; and as the aperture above our hero's door had been likewise closed, the air was oppressive almost to suffocation.
He shook the door, smote it with his heel, and called aloud many times for Nancy. After a while he heard her voice in the tunnel and knew that she was coming.
'Well,' he heard her say, 'it can't do any harm to ask him what he wants.' He knew then that the old woman was protesting against the girl's response to his call. Again he shook the door and cried out.
'I am suffocating for air.'
'Ah,' screamed the hag, 'I knew he wanted to get out. Now stay in your pit, my gamey young'un, and thank heaven if you ever come out of it alive.'
'I am speaking to you, Nancy; I do not want to come out, nor do I ask you to open the door. All I need is the removal of the hatch above my door, so that some air may come in.'
'May the devil take me if she'll move the hatch. You want to creep through it. I know what you'd be at. Back now to your bed, Nancy; an' if I ketch you about here again to-night, beware.'
'Good-night, sir,' Nancy said; 'when the Captain gets back, I shall tell him about you. Then you will get what you want.'
Roland fell into a sort of reverie a short time afterwards; and how long he so remained he could not afterwards say. But he was called to consciousness by hearing something soft fall, and smash, as it seemed to him, into small particles upon the stony floor of his room. Something fell then upon his face, about an egg's weight and size; and taking it into his hand he discovered that it was clay.
Springing to his feet, he lighted a small 'taper' match and examined the ceiling. To his horror he now discovered that the beams which stretched across to prevent the clayey roof from falling in had been removed. He was certain that they had been there that morning, for as he arose he observed a spider weaving a net from beam to beam, and wondered what she expected as prey. He was certain that the beams had been purposely taken away; and his blood became chilled with horror as he reflected over the motive.
The clay and turf still continued to fall, now in small pieces, and again in huge flakes, till the rock and his couch became covered. 'Could the dropping be accidental?' he asked himself. 'Would the clots if undisturbed, fall so rapidly? How was it that when he first entered the vault this evening, not a particle of anything came down?'
He stood still, his head almost touching the ceiling, listening as if to catch some sound. But for a minute he could only hear the tumultuous beating of his own heart and the occasional downfall of a fragment of clay or turf. At last he did hear something; or rather more felt than heard it. At intervals of a few seconds apart he felt the walls of his room vibrate as if under some powerful blow; and succeeding each vibration was a shower from the ceiling. The truth, naked and horrible now rushed upon his mind: his enemies were trying to bury him alive.
Gradually the sound of the blows grew more distinct, from which he gathered that the miscreants were not about to content themselves with pounding the surface, and trusting in that slow fashion to accomplish their crime. Plainly they were delving through the covering which Roland judged was about four feet thick; but as to the manner of implement they were using he was puzzled. He had not long to wait, however, to determine this; for in a little while the ceiling began to shake violently, as if something like a pile-driver were being forced by a series of blows through the yielding turf. What the result must be, too easily could be foreseen. The ponderous driver would first send all the lower portion of the ceiling into the room, and a pressure from above would force the outer portion in.
He had a large knife in his girdle, and bitterly did he now reproach himself for his lack of caution. Why had he not examined the room when he entered it in the early evening? Then with all these long hours before him, he could have cut his way through the door. He understood now why the candle had been taken away from his room. Yet another form of question ran through his terror-tortured mind: who were the miscreants at work above him? That the old woman and her daughter had a hand in the undertaking he felt quite certain; but surely all those mighty blows could not have been dealt by the old woman and her daughter. Had the robbers returned from their mission to the road, and if so, was the Captain privy to the proceedings? He would not believe that he was, for he knew that the chief was reserving him for some selfish end. He then gave up his questionings and rushed at the door. But an elephant flinging himself against those sturdy oaken boards and posts could not force his way; and Roland recoiled with a feeling of numb despair in his heart. Then with one of his bed-posts he began to pound upon the door, calling upon Nancy and The Lifter to come to his rescue.
At this moment an enormous mass fell from the roof, and striking him upon the head and back, felled him senseless to the ground. * * * When he recovered, a kind voice, Nancy's, was whispering in his ear:
'We outwitted them, didn't we? Are you better now?'
'We were just pulleen you out as the whole thing caved in and filled up the room,' said The Lifter, who ended his words with a groan. The pain of his broken arm was very severe.
'It will be rather good fun in the morneen, when you appear among them at breakfast: they think you are buried alive. You will come to my room to-night, Roland; there's room enough for two.'
Roland's brain was still bewildered, and he had many questions to ask
'Good night,' Nancy said, softly, 'I must be away. The Lifter will tell you all about it.' When The Lifter reached his room Roland noticed that his arm was in a sling, and learnt full tidings of the attack upon the negro, and how the captain was absent from home in pursuit of the prey. Joe Murfrey, who had been in league with the old woman and Silent Poll, assisted by Rev. Mr. Jonas, had driven in the earth-roof with a heavy log made like a pile driver. The conspirators believed that The Lifter and Nancy were sleeping; 'and they will never know,' concluded The Lifter, with a joyous chuckle, 'how you got out.'
In the morning all save Roland had assembled about the breakfast-table, and a sound of triumph was in the voice of the hag.
'The living cannot subsist by the dead,' murmured the Rev. Mr.
Jonas. 'Even though our poor brother lies ready-tombed we shall begin
our repast, thankful that our unworthy lives still exercise
His care.'
'Here's brimstone and blazes to the whelp in hell,' shouted Murfrey, as he swallowed nigh upon a tumbler of brandy.
'You ruffian!' They all started, and turning, observed Roland standing by the mouth of the tunnel, whence he saw and heard all that had passed. The two leading conspirators were simply speechless from amazement and rage; and then Murfrey's eyes fell upon Nancy with a dark look of suspicion. But the girl returned his look with one of such innocent, enquiring wonder that he was at once satisfied she had nothing to do with the thwarting.
The old woman seemed for a time to have lost the use of her faculties, and she raved in the most incoherent fashion. Taking little heed of their disappointment, Roland helped himself to many of the good things upon the table, and retiring a little way he seated himself at breakfast upon the dry turf. Before doing so he coolly drew from the pocket at his hip one pistol, and from that at his breast another, laying both beside him on the ground. With the knife in his girdle he cut his bread and meat; and when his meal was ended, sharpened it, most ostentatiously, on a stone near by, now and again giving a glance, in which there was threat as well as defiance, towards Murfrey and the Rev. Mr. Jonas.
'Mother hag,' he went on to say,' I do not think that I can offer you any more grace. The attempt to bury me alive I attribute to your charitable brain. I suppose you think that you have me at your power now that you have deprived me of a sleeping room. Well, these are my terms, dear old lady: unless you give me up your bedroom, which is substantial enough for my needs, I shall shoot you the first slant I get. Then I can hold my own against this precious preacher of the Don here and his confederates. But should the strain of holding my life against these prove too great I shall fall back in good order into the wood, and make my way to the nearest magistrate, where I will render myself up.'
'You seem to have forgotten,' he went on, with a peculiar voice, 'that if I choose to turn King's evidence against you all that the den contains will be unearthed while I go free.'
Every word of this harangue had been heard by the robber chief, who was returning from his expedition, but whose footsteps were so noiseless that they could not be heard.