Why shoot, indeed? The fugitive had no other course, to escape being dragged by the current towards the gulf in which the brook disappeared, than to row straight across and come to shore at the very spot at which Marescal’s men were waiting for him, revolver in hand.
He must have perceived this, for suddenly he brought the boat sharply round and rowed back to the shore on which he had to fight only one adversary with an empty revolver.
“Shoot! Shoot!” shouted Marescal, who perceived what Ralph would be at. “You must shoot now! He’s coming back! Shoot, damn you!”
One of the men fired.
There was a cry from the boat. Ralph let go the oars and fell back, and with a cry of despair the girl threw herself upon him. The oars floated away on the surface of the water. The boat remained still for a few moments, as it could not make up its mind, then slowly turned, with its prow pointing towards the current, and began to move backwards, slowly at first then more quickly. [[151]]
“G-G-Good Heavens!” stammered Marescal, horrified. “They’re done for!”
What could he do? There was no doubt what the end would be. The boat was caught by two bubbling torrents which were hurrying along both sides of the pool to a central point; once it turned completely round, then, taking a straight course, with the two bodies lying in the bottom of it, it rushed to the gaping cave and was engulfed!
All this happened in less than three minutes after the two fugitives had left the bank.
Marescal did not stir, his legs in the water, his features contorted with horror, he gazed at the accursed spot as if he were gazing at the mouth of Hell. His hat was floating towards it; mud and water dripped from his hair and beard.
“Is it p-p-possible—is it p-p-possible?” he stammered. “Aurelie! Aurelie! Aurelie!”