The Admirable Lady Biddy Fane Part 37

"Blood!"

Glancing round he scanned the rocky ledge behind him; then suddenly he points his finger without a word to another stain not a foot off; but this told its tale more clearly, for it formed a print of an open hand; as if a wounded man, after trying to stanch the blood from a wound, had been forced to clap that hand on the rock to save him from falling into the road below.

That others had been on that ledge before us was clear enough, but it beat me to know how a wounded man could have crawled up there, or what his purpose had been.

"Come on, master," says Matthew, springing to his feet, "we must lose no time. This riddle concerns us, or I am wrong in my reckoning. G.o.d grant no mischief has come to the female; that's all I pray."

My heart was chilled to hear him speak thus, for I saw that he argued more from these signs than he chose to tell, and that he had grave fears to make him utter this prayer. I followed him close at his heels, quaking in every muscle for fear, until we came to a part where it looked possible to slide down into the road without very great danger; yet was it such a venture as we might not have made at another time, but Matthew was as desperate as I.

"Master," says he, as we lay down to slip over the edge; "we'll both let go at the same time, so that one may not have to bury the other if this hazard does our business."

So we hung over the side, and, recommending ourselves to Providence, nodded to each other, and let go. In about two minutes we slid down about fifty feet and more; but by a happy chance came upon our feet at the bottom in the middle of that narrow road, not much more bruised and torn than we had hoped for.

As soon as he had fetched breath, Matthew falls to examining the dust in the road foot by foot, going in the direction of the chasm where the bridge had been (the northernmost of the two), I following in silence, for I had not his intelligence, yet looking stupidly on the ground, as if I expected to see Lady Biddy's history writ there.

When he had come right to the edge of the gulf and could go no further, he turns to me and says very gravely:

"Master, have you got a stout heart?"

"Ay," says I; but my voice belied me, for it was feeble as a child's, knowing by this prelude that he had come to a conclusion which must be terrible to my ear.

Matthew unslung his wine-skin and bade me drink.

"For," says he, "I warn you there is a call for all your manhood."

When I had drank I bade him tell me the worst of his fears.

"Look you," says he, pointing to the dust of the road, "here are the marks of mules' hoofs, and here the prints of those great boots the Portugals wear."

"Yes," says I, waiting with a throbbing heart for what was to follow hence.

"The boot-prints go all in one direction--south; not one is turned north as I can find; but the mules' hoofs turn both south and north; and see, here is one turned north that is right in the midst of a footprint turned south."

"Go on, Matthew," says I faintly, yet with a show of courage, that he might finish.

"The Ingas have been at work. I see the hand of those murderous savages in this; yet we should not call 'em hard names neither, for they only do that for revenge which the Portugals do for gold. They dread and hate every white face, and from time to time they travel in a great band leagues and leagues to come to a place like this, where they may rid themselves of these Portugal tyrants. Here was a place after their very heart. They destroy the further bridge, and when De Pino has pa.s.sed they came from their ambuscade, which, as we know, was in the rock above, and withdraw the timbers of the hither one, which they may have been loosing and preparing for weeks, and thus, when the whole train can neither go onward nor backward, they go up to the ledge again, and shoot down with their arrows from the rock above every one of their enemies. Then, when their deadly work is finished, they replace the timbers to fetch off the mules and their booty. To end all they cast down the timbers to delay discovery and give them time to escape. This is how it comes about that we see the hoofs turned north, but not a single footmark of those who went south with them."

"Out with it, Matthew!" I cries, in a pa.s.sion of despair; "tell me that she is ma.s.sacred with the rest--that not one has escaped!"

"Master," says he, with a great compa.s.sion in his voice, "the Ingas have no more pity for a white woman than a white man. All are gone!"

"No, no!" cries I imploringly; "'tis not so. They found the bridge broke and went back."

Without a word Matthew put his hand on my arm and pointed down to the valley where the great buzzard that I had laughed at but half an hour before was again sweeping round above the trees.

My heart stopped, and I felt it lie like a cold stone within me as I thought upon what dainty flesh this foul bird of carrion had been gorging.

CHAPTER XLVII.

WE GO DOWN INTO THAT VALLEY OF DEATH.

I knew too well what Matthew meant by this silent indication. He would have me to understand that the Ingas' slaughtered victims had been cast down the precipice (as the traces in the road bore out), and that the carrion birds were already feasting on their bodies.

My imagination could furnish forth no argument against the justice of this conclusion, and having now no hope to animate me, all about me appeared a blank, as if my heart could no longer feel, and all my faculties were stunned. So I stood there, watching the buzzard whirl round and round, as if I had nothing in the world to do but that.

I was aroused from this apathy by Matthew laying his hand on my shoulder, and saying in a gentle voice:

"Master, would it ease your mind to talk about her?"

Then I felt that I would like to pour out the grief from my heart, yet not to Matthew; so I turned away in an agony, thinking there was no one in the wide world to sympathize with me now she was gone. Who but I knew how gentle and sweet her nature was, and what words of mine could ever tell her praise as she deserved? Then recalling the sweet face, her delicate, gracious manner, the pretty tone of her voice, and in particular certain little kind words she had given me, with an encouraging look now and again, her brave habit of looking on the better side of our misfortunes to cheer me up, the dainty movement of her hands, and one or two little episodes wherein she had shown a pleasant wit--recalling these things, I say, and reflecting that they could never, never be repeated, my heart was wrung with bitter grief.

"Master," says Matthew again, seeing that I was in such great pain--"master, are you minded to find her body, and save her from those vile birds?"

I nodded eagerly; not because of my respect for the dead so much as that I longed to look once more upon that dear face, and kneel down beside her in secret, and weep, if the tears could find vent from my heart.

So we began to cast about how we might get down into that dark valley; and while I was spying below I noticed that the buzzard was perched on a point of rock about midway down, and near him were perched two others.

Seeing this, a wild idea came across my mind, and calling to Matthew I bade him observe these birds, and then says I:

"Why are they there?"

He looked at me as not quite seeing my drift.

"If they are all dead below there, would those birds stand aloof? Why have they been soaring round and round above the trees this half-hour and more?"

"What you say, master," says he, "is very much to the point. Certainly they do not use to hold off in this manner, except there be sign of life in their prey. And yet" (looking down the abyss) "is it possible that any one hurled down from this height could survive the shock five minutes? Nay, even if the bough of a tree did somewhat break the fall, the poor wretch would be so broken that death were preferable to such a maimed existence."

I wasted no time in replying to this argument, for I had no thought but that my dear lady yet breathed. And I must needs think it was she of all those who had been thrown down that had escaped, though any one not distracted with a new-born hope would have seen that her frail body least of any could survive that terrible catastrophe.

I ran along the road, seeking a place to descend, with Matthew at my heels, imploring me to have a care of my own life, and not rashly expose myself to death for the sake of two minutes. However, I paid no heed to his warning, but at the first point where there seemed a possibility of climbing down the rocks to the valley I made the attempt.

"Master, master!" cries Matthew, "for the love of Heaven, don't go down there. 'Tis a hundred chances to one we be dashed to pieces that way.

Look you a hundred yards ahead; there is a safer way."

"Nay," says I, "stay where you are, Matthew, or go a safer way. I make no doubt that Providence will help me here as before."

"If you go I go, master," says he, following without a moment's hesitation. "For I count upon Providence being as merciful to me as to you, though my legs _be_ shorter."

We got down the face of that mountain-side better than we might have expected from the look of it above (though how, I knew not), and with no great hurt, thanks be to G.o.d. And now, being at the top of that slope on which the trees grew, though still a prodigious height above the bottom of the valley, we made our way over the crags and scattered stones towards that part which lay below the road between the two bridges, which we made out at a distance clearly enough, because there the rock was straight down as any wall, and its side brushed by the arms of the great pine-trees we had observed from above. When we got amongst these trees, the first sign of the Ingas' business was seen in the timbers of the bridge, of which one stood on end, held so by the boughs of the pine through which it had pa.s.sed, but the rest lay splintered amongst the rocks, Matthew said nothing, but I saw by a toss of his head and a desponding look in his face that he was asking himself how any human being could escape death by such a fall when these solid timbers had been shivered in pieces. Then perceiving we could be at no great distance from where the bodies had been flung down, I grew sick with the dread of seeing at the next footstep the crushed and mangled form of my dear lady, so that I could go no further for the weakness of my legs, but was forced to lean against a tree for support, while a cold sweat came out upon my face.

Observing my case, Matthew without a word slung round his wine-skin, which he had brought down (though our swords and all else that was dispensable we had left above), and gave me a drink, but would have me sit down to it, making out he could not lift the skin high enough else by reason it was nearly empty.

"Do you feel a bit stronger now, master?" says he kindly, when I had drunk.

"Ay," says I; "in a minute I shall be ready to go on."