Part 26 (1/2)

”Hold on, for G.o.d's sake!” shouted John. ”The traces have broken.”

He was right; the tough leather was at length worn through by constant rubbing against the rock, and the strain and sway of the dead horses on the one side, and of the cart upon the other. Round it spun, broadside on to the current, and immediately began to heave over, till at last the angle was so sharp that the dead body of poor Mouti slid out with a splash and vanished into the darkness. This relieved the cart, and it righted for a moment, but now being no longer held up by the bodies of the horses or by the sustaining power of the wind it began to fill and sink, and at the same time to revolve swiftly. John understood that all was finished, and that to stop in the cart would only mean certain death, because they would be held under water by the canvas tent. So with a devout aspiration for a.s.sistance he seized Jess round the waist with one arm and sprang off into the river. As he leapt the cart filled and sank.

”Lie still, for Heaven's sake!” he shouted, when they rose to the surface.

In the dim light of the dawn which was now creeping over the earth he could discover the line of the left bank of the Vaal, the same from which they had been driven into the river on the previous night. It appeared to be about forty yards away, but the current was running quite six knots, and he saw that, burdened as he was, it would be quite impracticable for him to reach it. The only thing to do was to keep afloat. Luckily the water was warm and he was a strong swimmer. In a minute or so he saw that about fifty paces ahead some rocks jutted out twenty yards into the bed of the stream. Then catching Jess by the hair with his left hand he made his effort, and a desperate one it was. The broken water boiled furiously round the rocks. Presently he was in it, and, better still, his feet touched the ground. Next second he was swept off them and rolled over and over at the bottom of the river, to be sadly knocked about against the boulders. Somehow he struggled to his legs, still retaining his hold of Jess. Twice he fell, and twice he struggled up again. One more effort--so. The water was only up to his thighs now, and he was obliged to half carry his companion.

As he lifted her he felt a deadly sickness come over him, but still he staggered on, till at last they both fell of a heap upon a big flat rock, and for a while he remembered no more.

When he came to himself again it was to see Jess, who had recovered sooner than he had, standing over him and chafing his hands. Indeed, as the sun was up he guessed that he must have lost his senses for some time. He rose with difficulty and shook himself. Except for some bruises he was sound enough.

”Are you hurt?” he asked of Jess, who, pale, faint and bruised, her hat gone, her dress torn by bullets and the rocks, and dripping water at every step, looked an exceedingly forlorn object.

”No,” she said feebly, ”not very much.”

He sat down on the rock in the sun, for they were both s.h.i.+vering with cold. ”What is to be done?” he asked.

”Die,” she said fiercely; ”I meant to die--why did you not let me die?

Ours is a position that only death can set straight.”

”Don't be alarmed,” he said, ”your desire will soon be gratified: those murderous villains will hunt us up presently.”

The bed and banks of the river were clothed with thin layers of mist, but as the sun gathered power these lifted. The spot at which they had climbed ash.o.r.e was about three hundred yards below that where the two Boers and their horses had been destroyed by the lightning on the previous night. Seeing the mist thin, John insisted upon Jess crouching with him behind a rock so that they could look up and down the river without being seen themselves. Presently he made out the forms of two horses grazing about a hundred yards away.

”Ah,” he said, ”I thought so; the devils have off-saddled there. Thank Heaven I have still got my revolver, and the cartridges are watertight.

I mean to sell our lives as dearly as I can.”

”Why, John,” cried Jess, following the line of his out-stretched hand, ”those are not the Boers' horses, they are our two leaders that broke loose in the water. Look, their collars are still on.”

”By Jove! so they are. Now if only we can catch them without being caught ourselves we have a chance of getting out of this.”

”Well, there is no cover about, and I can't see any signs of Boers. They must have been sure of having killed us, and gone away,” Jess answered.

John looked round, and for the first time a sense of hope began to creep into his heart. Perhaps they would survive after all.

”Let's go up and look. It is no good stopping here; we must get food somewhere, or we shall faint.”

She rose without a word, and taking his hand they advanced together along the bank. They had not gone twenty yards before John uttered an exclamation of joy and rushed at something white that had lodged in the reeds. It was the basket of food which was given to them by the innkeeper's wife at Heidelberg that had been washed out of the cart, and as the lid was fastened nothing was lost out of it. He undid it. There was the bottle of three-star brandy untouched, also most of the eggs, meat, and bread, the last, of course, sodden and worthless. It did not take long to draw the cork, and then John filled a broken winegla.s.s there was in the basket half full of water and half of brandy, and made Jess drink it, with the result that she began to look a little less like a corpse. Next, he repeated the process twice on his own account, and instantly felt as though new life were flowing into him. Then they went on cautiously.

The horses allowed themselves to be caught without trouble, and did not appear to be any the worse for the adventure, although the flank of one was grazed by a bullet.

”There is a tree yonder where the bank shelves over; we had better tie the horses up, dress, and eat some breakfast,” said John, almost cheerfully; and accordingly they proceeded towards it. Suddenly John, who was ahead, started back with an exclamation of fear, and the horses began to snort, for there, stark and stiff in death, already swollen and discoloured by decomposition--as is sometimes the case with people killed by lightning--the rifles in their hands twisted and fused, their clothes cut and blown from their bandoliers--lay the two Boer murderers.

It was a terrifying sight, and, taken in conjunction with their own remarkable escape, one to make the most careless and sceptical reflect.

”And yet there are people who say that there is no G.o.d, and no punishment for wickedness,” said John aloud.

CHAPTER XXV