When she had the pigeon in her hands she kissed its little bluish head, and she kissed it again after she had unfastened the note from its foot. Then the bird was released and went back into its loft, where a handful of grain was lying ready for it.
Hannah read out Ernest's letter. The few lines it contained were satisfactory, announcing the complete success of the expedition. They held a word of affection for every one, and Hannah had her share.
Full of the glad thought that the return would be made in the next forty-eight hours, they all went to their rooms. The message had come; the news was good! They gave thanks to God, and slept peacefully until the sun rose.
This next day was fully employed with household tasks. There was an important piece of work on hand, which could not have been postponed. A number of salmon had entered the mouth of Jackal River, up whose course these fish ascended every year at this season. The help of the absent three was greatly missed. Because of their absence, the fishing was not nearly so productive as it might have been.
During the afternoon all four left their work, crossed Family Bridge, and took the road towards the hermitage of Eberfurt. Mr. Wolston, Ernest, and Jack ought to have reached the defile of Cluse, and it would only take them a couple of hours at most to cover the distance from the farm to Rock Castle.
But the day wore on, and there was no sign of their coming, no barking of the dogs that would certainly have scented their masters, no sound of the gun which Jack would not have failed to fire to announce his return.
At six o'clock dinner was ready. It was kept back for the explorers, and, as they did not come, no one cared to sit down to table.
M. and Mme. Zermatt, Mrs. Wolston and Hannah, took a final walk half a mile or more along the road above Jackal River. Turk and Brownie went with them, but remained quiet and dumb, although they would certainly have been noisy and frantic enough if the two brothers had been anywhere near!
The four returned to Rock Castle, not quite easy in mind, but telling one another that the delay could not last much longer. They sat down to table in anxious mood, with ears alert for every sound outside, and none of them had any appetite.
"Come, come, we must be reasonable," M. Zermatt said at length. "If it took three days to get to the foot of the mountain, why should it not take three days to get back?"
"Quite right, M. Zermatt," Hannah answered, "but does not Ernest's letter suggest that forty-eight hours would be enough?"
"I quite agree, my child," Mme. Zermatt added. "But the dear boy is so anxious to see us again that he has promised more than he can perform."
There was no actual reason for serious worry as yet. But that night none of the inmates of Rock Castle enjoyed the same quiet sleep that they had known the night before.
But what, after all, was only anxiety, became trouble and even agony next day, the 3rd of October, when evening fell. The explorers had not put in an appearance. Such a long delay was inexplicable where such strong and tireless walkers were concerned. Some accident must have befallen them. They ought not to have met with any more difficulties when returning than they had met with when going, and they knew the road. Could it mean that they had decided to take another road—a more difficult, a longer one?
"No," said Hannah. "If they had been obliged to take another road, Ernest would not have said that they would be here in forty-eight hours."
An answer to that was difficult to find. Betsy and Mrs. Wolston began to lose hope. Hannah could not restrain her tears, and M. Zermatt knew not what to say to comfort her.
It was then agreed that if the missing party did not come back to Rock Castle next day, all should go to the hermitage at Eberfurt, since they could only come back by the defile of Cluse.
Evening came; night rolled on. There was no news at all. Nothing could now keep at Rock Castle those who were awaiting them there, a prey to mortal anxiety.
In the morning preparations were hurriedly made. The waggon was harnessed, provisions were put into it, and all took their seats. The cattle started, Brownie running ahead. After crossing Jackal River the vehicle went along the woods and fields which bordered the road to Eberfurt, travelling at its highest possible speed.
They had gone about two and a half miles and had reached the culvert over the irrigation canal which ran into Swan Lake, when M. Zermatt gave the signal to halt.
Brownie had rushed forward, barking faster and more furiously than ever.
"There they are! There they are!" cried Mrs. Wolston.
And, three hundred yards away, two men appeared, rounding a clump of trees.
They were Mr. Wolston and Ernest.
Where was Jack? He could not be far away—a gun-shot or two behind, no doubt.
Mr. Wolston and Ernest were welcomed with shouts of joy. But as they did not come on, everyone rushed towards them.
"Where is Jack?" Mme. Zermatt asked.
Neither Jack nor his dog Fawn was there.
"We don't know what has become of Jack," said Mr. Wolston, sadly.
And this is the story he told, a story often broken by the sobs of all who heard it.
The descent from the summit of the peak to the foot of the range had been made in two hours. Jack, the first to get down, shot some game on the fringe of the pine-wood. Supper was eaten in front of the cave, a fire was left alight outside, and all three retired within. One kept watch at the entrance while the other two slept soundly.
The night was disturbed only by the distant howling of wild beasts.
From the summit of the peak Ernest had noticed that the forest seemed to be clearer towards the east, and, at his suggestion, the three men went in that direction. It would mean quicker marching, and the distance would only be lengthened by a couple of miles or so.
At eleven o'clock a halt was made. After luncheon the three came on through the thinner forests, where it was easier walking.
About two o'clock they heard heavy trampling and a loud trumpeting noise among the trees.
There could be no mistake whence this proceeded. A herd of elephants was passing through the pine-wood.
No, not a herd—only three appeared, two of enormous size, the parents, and behind them a baby elephant.
It had always been Jack's most ardent wish to capture one of these creatures and tame it. The adventurous lad determined to take advantage of this opportunity.
Anticipating an attack, all three put themselves on the defensive, with guns loaded and ready, feeling by no means confident about the issue of a trial of strength with these formidable brutes.
When the elephants reached the end of the clearing, they stopped. Then, catching sight of the three men, they swerved off to the left, without hurrying, and plunged into the depths of the forest.
All danger was over, when Jack, carried away by his irresistible desire, disappeared in the wake of the elephants, followed by his dog Fawn.
"Jack! Jack!" cried Mr. Wolston.
"Come back, Jack! Come back!" cried Ernest.
The reckless young fellow either did not or would not hear.
One more glimpse of him was seen through the thicket. Then he vanished from view.
Full of apprehension, Mr. Wolston and Ernest rushed after him, and in a few minutes reached the clearing.
It was deserted.
Just at this moment the noise of trampling was heard again, close at hand. But no report rang out.
So Jack either had not decided to use his gun yet, or had not been able to.
It would be difficult, however, to overtake him, and it was impossible to pick up his tracks here, where the ground was covered with dead branches and dry leaves.
The tumult gradually died away in the distance. A few branches which had been set a-swaying became still again, and once more the silence of the forest was unbroken.
Mr. Wolston and Ernest beat the fringe of the clearing until evening, wormed their way into the thickest brakes, and shouted to Jack.
Had the unhappy lad fallen a victim to his imprud
ence? Had he been unable to avoid the elephants' charge? Was he lying motionless, perhaps dead, in some corner of the dark forest?
No cry, no call, reached Mr. Wolston's or Ernest's ears. A few shots, fired at intervals, remained unanswered.
At night-fall, both men, exhausted by fatigue and overwhelmed by anxiety, sank at the foot of the tree, listening intently and trying to catch the faintest sound. They lighted a large fire, hoping that Jack might find his way by its light and join them again, and they did not close their eyes until day.
Throughout these weary hours incessant howling betrayed the proximity of wild beasts. They could not help dreading that if Jack had not been driven to defend himself against the elephants, he still might have fallen in a more dangerous attack by tigers, lions, or pumas.
But he could not be left to his fate. The whole of the following day was spent in seeking his tracks through the pine-wood.
It was labour wasted, Mr. Wolston and Ernest plainly saw the way the elephants had passed, marked as it was by heavy foot-prints, trampled grass, broken branches, and crushed undergrowth. But of Jack himself there was not a sign; not even a sign that he had been wounded, not a drop of blood, not a single mark which might have put them on his track.
There was nothing for it but to go back to Rock Castle, whence they could start again on the search once more in better conditions.
The two traversed the portion of the pine forest which they had crossed that same evening. They walked all night and all day, and in the morning they arrived at the entrance to the defile of Cluse.
"My boy! My poor boy!" Mme. Zermatt murmured over and over again.
She fell into the arms of Mrs. Wolston and her daughter, who were on their knees beside her.
M. Zermatt and Ernest, plunged in grief, could not utter a word.
"This is what we must do, without losing a minute," Mr. Wolston said at last, resolutely. M. Zermatt turned to him. "What?" he asked.
"We are going back to Rock Castle, and we will start out from there again this very day to find Jack's tracks. I have thought of everything, my dear Zermatt, and I entreat you to do what I suggest.
"It was in the part of the forest near the sea-shore that Jack disappeared," he went on. "So thither we must go first, and by the shortest way. To return by the road beyond the defile of Cluse would take too long. Let us go aboard the pinnace. The wind is in the right quarter for rounding Cape East, and after that the breeze from the sea will take us back along the coast. If we start this evening we shall reach the mouth of the Montrose before daybreak. We will go on, and we will put in where the range ends. It was in that direction Jack disappeared as he went through the pine forest. By going there by sea we shall gain two days."
The suggestion was agreed to without demur. There was no room for hesitation if they wanted to take advantage of the wind which would bring the Elizabeth off Cape East in two or three tacks.
So both families got into the waggon again, and the team was driven so fast that an hour and a half later they were at the gates of Rock Castle.
Their first business was to get the pinnace ready to put to sea for a voyage of several days' duration, in which Mme. Zermatt, Mrs. Wolston, and Hannah were all to share.
In the afternoon, after food had been provided for the animals for a week, the pinnace was about to start when it was prevented by an unhappy mischance.
About three o'clock the wind, which had dropped, veered to the east, and was soon blowing a full breeze. The Elizabeth could have ventured beyond Cape East, although the sea must be running very high outside. But how was she to get so far as the cape against the violent surge which was rolling in from the sea? It would have been extremely difficult for her merely to leave her anchorage, and to get beyond Shark's Island would have been impossible.
It was heart-breaking. To wait and wait, while the least delay might mean the failure of the search! And if these adverse winds continued, if in the course of the evening or the night the weather conditions did not change, they would get even worse.
"Well," said Mr. Wolston, answering questions which rose in every mind, "what we can't try by sea, we will try by land. The waggon instead of the pinnace! Let us get it ready to go back to Eberfurt."
Preparations were at once made. If the journey was to be by waggon, they would have to make for the south-east, in order to work round the pine forest. The team could not have made their way through it, at any rate, not through the portion which Mr. Wolston and Ernest had explored. Thence they would try to reach the eastern extremity of the forest, that is to say, the point where the Elizabeth would put into shore, if a change in the wind allowed her to lift anchor. It would mean a delay of thirty-six hours, but that could not be helped.
Hopes for a change in the weather were disappointed. The wind blew constantly from the north-east and got steadily stronger. By evening huge waves were breaking on the beach at Rock Castle. The night threatened to be a bad one, and, in face of these conditions, the plan of the voyage had to be given up.
Mr. Wolston had all the provisions which had been put on board transferred to the waggon. At the same time final attentions were given to the two buffaloes and the onager, in view of a start at day-break.
Mme. Zermatt was quite broken down, only opening her lips to murmur:
"My boy! Oh, my poor boy!"
Suddenly about eight o'clock, the two dogs, Turk and Brownie, began to show signs of excitement. Mr. Wolston noticed how they ran in front of the verandah across the yard. Brownie was especially restless.
Then distant barking was distinctly heard.
"It's Fawn!" cried Ernest.
Fawn—Jack's dog! Brownie and Turk recognised him too, for they answered by barking more loudly than ever.
M. and Mme. Zermatt, with Mrs. Wolston and Hannah, rushed out of the verandah.
Jack appeared at the gate and flung himself into his mother's arms.
"Yes, I'm all right!" he cried. "But there may be great danger before us!"
"Danger? What danger?" M. Zermatt asked, hugging him.
"Savages," Jack answered; "savages who have landed on the island!"
CHAPTER XVI - TROUBLE AHEAD
THE two families went back into the dining-room with hearts overflowing with joy, in spite of the disquieting news brought by Jack. Their only thought was that Jack was back again!
Yet could a more serious event have been imagined? Savages were on the coast of New Switzerland! They knew now that the thin vapour seen by Mr. Wolston when the pinnace left the mouth of the Montrose River, and again when he was at the summit of the peak, was the smoke of an encampment pitched on that part of the island.
Jack was faint for want of food. He took his seat at the table with the others, and when he had recovered some of his strength he told the story of his adventures as follows:
"Forgive me, all of you, for the grief and anxiety I have caused you. I let my desire to capture a young elephant run away with me. I did not listen to Mr. Wolston or Ernest when they were calling me back, and it is only by a miracle that I have returned safe and sound! But my recklessness will have this one good result at least—it will enable us to organise a serious defence against these savages if they come as far as the Promised Land.
"Well, I plunged into the very thick of the pine forest after those elephants without any very clear idea, I must admit, of how I should manage to get hold of the smallest one. The father and mother went quietly along, breaking their way through the brushwood, and did not notice that I was following them. Of course I kept out of sight as much as possible, and I went along without its even occurring to me to ask in what direction they were taking me and Fawn, who was as mad as I was, or how I should find my way back! I continued for more than two hours, trying in vain to draw the baby elephant off on a side track.
"As a matter of fact, if I had tried to bring down the father and mother I don't know how many bullets I should have had to use before succeeding, and the only result might have been to infuria
te the two brutes and turn them onto me!
"However, I went farther and farther into the heart of the pine forest, keeping no account of time or distance, or of the trouble I should have to join Mr. Wolston and Ernest again, and never thinking—I hope they will not be too angry with me for it—of the trouble I was putting them to if they were hurrying after me.
"I calculate that I must have gone a good five miles to the eastward in this way, and all for nothing. Then a realisation of the position came back to me. Perhaps I was wise after the event; but since the elephants showed no intention of stopping I thought that it would be best I should stop.
"It was about four o'clock. The forest was thinner around me; there were spaces between the trees, and some large clearings. And I think, by the way, that when we want to go to Jean Zermatt Peak it will be best to make straight for the south-east."