The Burning Bridge, Philip Verrill Mighels [the lemonade war series .txt] 📗

passed from this hasty examination of the island's general topography to a closer inspection of the perpendicular scarp of the terrace. On the seaward side it rose about one hundred feet above the mark of high water. Its right front appeared to overhang its base, a reassuring distance above the highest tree. Across its entire bulk at this place the cliff had once been cracked, and a "slip" had formed a ragged shelf. Then came the slope where the trail was worn, beyond which forty feet or more of unscalable tufa was reared above a section of the jungle once devastated by fire.

In the midst of this section, being rapidly reclaimed by vines and creepers, stood the shell of a huge old tree, the heart of which had been consumed, from the roots to its blackened top, leaving walls still thick and solid.

"Well," said Sidney, returning again to the principal cave, which he reinspected critically, "it doesn't take long to overlook our possessions. You'd better begin to make yourself at home, while I go below for fodder," and, taking up his club from a ledge where he had let it fall, he went at once down the long-abandoned trail and out across the clearing.

Elaine had followed to the scarp, where she watched till he disappeared. How helpless she was in the hands of this man, whose declaration and deeds had so aroused her indignation and hatred, she thoroughly understood. A sickening conviction that days might elapse before she could hope to escape, increased her sense, not only of alarm, but also of distrust in Grenville. His action in taking up his stick had not escaped her attention. Strangely enough, a horrible pang went straight to her breast as she suddenly thought of that tiger again—and of what it might mean if Grenville never returned. Whatever else might happen, nothing could be so terrible as to perish here alone. She tried to assure herself, however, that Grenville was thoroughly competent to cope with the dangers of the place.

Yet the silence of the jungle where she had seen him disappear, oppressed her unendurably. Not even a tree was shaken, to indicate where he had gone. Summoning all her resolution, she returned to the cavern, alone.

A slab of rock, once doubtless employed for a table, lay with one end resting on the earth, while the other leaned upon a second rock, against the wall of the cave. She lifted this slab to a second prop, then blew the last fragment of dust and sand from its surface, by way of preparing it for breakfast. She looked about, longing for further employment, but, inasmuch as two rude fragments of the rock already reposed beside her table for seats, there was absolutely nothing more she could add, either by way of utensils or furnishings, from the boulders scattered loosely on the terrace.

When she thought of leaves, whereon to serve what fruits the jungle might surrender, she started briskly for the trail—but halted at its summit. A horror of unknown things that might be lurking at the thicket's edge impressed itself upon her. Nevertheless, she shook it off, and, descending rapidly, soon filled her arms with large, clean "platters" from a rankly growing plant of the "elephant's ear" variety, then clambered back to her aerie.

Two of the leaves she dropped at the bend of the trail and left them there in the sun. Twice after that she returned to the edge, to search all the greenery for Grenville. Her uneasiness respecting his long absence was rapidly increasing when she turned once more toward the cave. He emerged at that moment from the farther thicket of the clearing, came unobserved to the winding trail, and discovered the leaves she had abandoned.

He was amazingly "loaded" with similar leaves for breakfast purposes, as well as with fruits, and a singular bowl of water, yet he paused, with a smile upon his lips, to discard every leaf he had provided, in order that Elaine's thoughtful effort at assistance might not be in the least belittled.

She met him just as he came to the top, and began to take a portion of his burden.

"Oh," she said, "you've found water—or is it the juice of the melon?"

"Water," he answered, moving towards the cave. "The bowl is half of a paw-paw, which, next to that spring itself, is the welcomest thing I've discovered."

She was glad to note bananas among his several fruits, but she made no further observations. More and more her sense of constraint increased, as she clearly foresaw her dependence upon and intimate association with this man, who had overstepped the bounds of honor to his friend, and to whom she had spoken in such anger.

Breakfast was soon begun. Elaine consumed all she could relish of the fruits, although neither the loco (loquet, a yellowish sort of plum), the guava—green and full of seeds—nor the custard apple, which was somewhat sickishly sweet, appealed irresistibly to her fancy.

She drank from a leaf, curled up to form a cup, and found the water decidedly refreshing and agreeable, despite the fact it was slightly flavored by the juices of the paw-paw shell in which it had been served.

Grenville leaned back, when his appetite was thoroughly appeased, and began to empty his pockets. He produced the remains of his broken knife, a few loose coins, a ring of keys, a pig-skin purse with several pieces of gold as its contents, the stub of a pencil, and his watch, which, by great good fortune, was waterproof, and still in good running condition, despite its several immersions.

Elaine was watching his movements, puzzled to guess his intent.

"Taking stock," he said, presently, "by way of facing the situation and formulating plans.... These trifling chattels are all I possess in the world—our world, at least—with which to begin certain labors. You probably haven't even hairpins."

Elaine had coiled her hair upon a twig. She shook her head, and faintly resented his allusion to the island as a sort of partnership property.

Grenville began to segregate his belongings.

"Money, keys, pencil, and watch—all mere encumbrances, absolutely worthless. One broken knife—invaluable. We shall require, as soon as possible, water-jugs, basins, cooking utensils, something to make a fire, implements to chop our fuel, some primitive weapons, and tools with which to fashion a boat. I must lose no time in exploring beyond the spring. I have found nothing yet that will especially lend itself to our uses."

Elaine's brown eyes were very wide. "You expect to remain here long enough to build a boat, when the raft—— I know it can't be rowed, of course, but—couldn't you try a sail?"

"We couldn't sail it in its present form," he answered, "even if we knew which direction to take when we started. With a small, swift boat we might venture a few explorations from the island as a base."

She was silent for a moment, and grave.

"You haven't much faith, then, in hailing some passing steamer?"

"I think it wiser to prepare against a probable wait that may be rather long." He read and understood her impatience with the situation—a situation rendered infinitely more complicated and delicate by what he had dared to say and do the previous afternoon.

Once more black dreads that she dared not permit to reveal themselves completely arose to engulf her mind. She could not doubt that Grenville knew, far better than herself, how meager were their hopes of immediate rescue or escape from this exile in the sea. More than anything else, however, she wished to be worthy of and loyal to the man to whom her plighted word had been given. That she owed so much to Grenville already was an added irritation. A braver, finer spirit than she summoned to her needs never rose in a woman's breast.

Her eyes met his with a cold look of resolution in their depths.

"I know you will show me how to help. I must do my share in everything. Can you tell how long it must have been since anyone was here?"

Grenville had never thought her finer—never loved her so madly before. Yet he quelled the merry demons of his nature.

"No," he replied, as he took in his hand a bit of bone, bleached cleanly white. "I can't even understand why an island so abundantly supplied with fruits and game, to say nothing of useful woods and the like, should be so utterly abandoned. There seems to be nothing wrong with the place, and much that is quite in its favor."

"Perhaps that tiger," she suggested.

Sidney shook his head. "It's something that goes a bit deeper—at least, there may once have been something sinister. The natives of all this part of the world are rather accustomed to tigers."

Her sense of divination was exceedingly keen.

"You think there is something worse? You haven't already encountered something more——"

"Nothing," he hastened to interrupt. "The problem of our daily existence affords our greatest present cause for concern—and I frankly admit I considerably relish the prospect of proving we are equal to all that our situation may demand."

She was not to be satisfied so readily.

"But there may be something wrong with the island?"

"Possibly—from a native's point of view."

"But—you are almost certain to meet that tiger again."

"All the more reason for getting to work at once." He arose in his quick, active manner, and once more surveyed their camp.

"A few rocks piled in your doorway," he continued, "and your cave will meet your requirements admirably. I should say mine would better be this small retreat, the roof of which I can readily restore. It is close enough to be neighborly, and is nearer the head of the trail."

The smaller cave thus indicated occupied a position suggestive of a sentry's box, before precincts to be guarded. Its opening faced the gateway of the trail, while its size was sufficient for the needs of any primitive man.

Elaine, who had mechanically followed Grenville from the shelter, looked resignedly about. She had failed till now to think, concretely, of actually remaining, perhaps night after night, in such a place.

"It was terrible!" she said, "—the accident—everything!—terrible!" She suddenly thought of the threat he had made—to compel her to love him as he loved her, before they should reach their home—and shivered anew at the unforeseen predicament in which she was plunged, and hated him more than before.

"Bad business," he answered, briefly, "but at present the task before us is to cut a lot of grass and strew it about on the rocks to dry."

He opened the stubby blade of his knife, glanced at it ruefully, and, selecting a bit of stone, began to whet its edge. But he halted the action abruptly.

A low, weird sound, like a human wail, came from somewhere over behind them.

CHAPTER VI VARIOUS DISCOVERIES

The sound had no sooner died on the air than a second, far louder, and far more uncanny in its suggestiveness of someone in mortal pain, followed piercingly, up around the rock, and rang in their startled ears.

The third sound more resembled a scream. It was immediately succeeded by a chorus of hideous cries and moans, singularly distressing. They rose to a pitch incredible; they seemed to involve every accent of human grief and torture, and to wrap the rock escarpment completely in an agonizing appeal.

This chorus sank, but a haunting solo of wailing arose as before, to be followed again by the air-splitting scream, and at length once more by the mingling of many dreadful voices.

The island exiles glanced at one another inquiringly, Elaine blanched white with awe.

"By Heavens!—it can't be human," Grenville muttered, as the programme recommenced with only a slight variation.

To Elaine's dismay he started for the cliff.

"Mr. Grenville!" she cried, and helplessly followed where he went.

The wail was dying, in a horrid series of feebler repetitions, when Grenville came to the edge of the wall and peered down below at the water.

There was absolutely nothing to be seen in any direction. The direful sounds, fast progressing once more to that nerve-destroying climax, appeared to issue from