pocket, strike itto keep up their spirits."
Well, he stopped short, and I was ashamed of myself a minute after forspeaking so to a mere lad whose life was before him and who'd everyright to be afraid.
"Come," said I, more kindly, "keep close to me, Dolly, and if you don'tknow where I am, why, put out your hand and touch me. I've been inworse scrapes than this, my boy, and I'll lead you out of it somehow.After all, we've ship over yonder and Mister Jacob isn't done with yet.Keep up your heart, then, and put your best leg forward."
Now, this was spoken to put courage into him--not that I believed whatI said, but because he and the others counted upon me, and my ownfeelings had to go under somehow. For the matter of that, it looked allLombard Street to a China orange against us when we took the woodlandpath again; and so I believe it would have been but for something whichcame upon us like a thunder-flash, and changed all our despair to adesperate hope. And to this something Peter Bligh was the first to callour attention.
"Is it fireflies or lanterns?" cries he all at once, bringing outthe words like a pump might have done; "yonder on the hillside,shipmates--is it fireflies or lanterns?"
I stood to look, and while I stood Seth Barker named the thing.
"It's lanterns," cries he; "lanterns, sure and certain, captain."
"And the three ripping little girls carrying them," puts in Dolly Venn.
"'Tis no woman ever born that would hunt down four poor sailor-men,"cries Peter Bligh.
"To say nothing of the he-lion they was a-fondling of"--from SethBarker.
"Lads," said I, in my turn, "this is the unlooked for, and I, for one,don't mean to pass it by. I'm going to ask those young ladies for ashort road to the hills--and not lose any time about it either."
They all said "Aye, aye," and we ran forward together. The halloaing inthe wood was closing in about us now; you could hear voices whereveryou turned an ear. As for the lanterns, they darted from bush to bushlike glow-worms on a summer's night, so that I made certain they woulddodge us after all. My heart was low down enough, be sure of it, when Ilost view of those guiding stars altogether, and found myself face toface with the last figure I might have asked for if you'd given me thechoice of a hundred.
For what should happen but that the weird being, whom Seth Barker hadcalled the "he-lion," the old fellow in petticoats, whom the littlegirls made such a fuss of, he, I say, appeared of a sudden right in thepath before us, and, holding up a lantern warningly, he hailed us witha word which told us that he was our friend--the very last I would havenamed for that in all the island.
"Jasper Begg," cried he, in a voice that I'd have known for aFrenchman's anywhere, "follow Clair-de-Lune--follow--follow!"
He turned to the bushes behind him, and, seeming to dive between them,we found him, when we followed, flat on his stomach, the lantern out,and he running like a dog up a winding path before him. He was leadingus to the heights, I said; and when I remembered the great bare peaksand steeple-like rocks, upstanding black and gloomy under the starrysky, I began to believe that this wild man was right and that in thehills our safety lay.
But of that we had yet to learn, and for all we knew to the contrary itmight have been a trap.
CHAPTER VIII
THE BIRD'S NEST IN THE HILLS
There had been a great sound of "halloaing" and firing in the woodswhen we raced through them for our lives; but it was all still and coldon the mountain-side, and you could hear even a stone falling or thedrip of water as it oozed from the black rocks to the silent poolsbelow. What light there was came down through the craggy gorge; and itwas not until we had climbed up and up for a good half-hour or morethat we began to hear the sea-breeze whistling among the higher peakslike wild music which the spirits might have made. As for the pathitself, it was oftentimes but a ledge against the wall of some sheerheight; and none, I think, but seamen could have followed it, surely.Even I remembered where I was, and feared to look down sometimes; butdanger bridges many a perilous road, and what with the silence and thefresh breezes and the thought that we might live through the night,after all, I believe I could have hugged the wild old man who led usupward so unflinchingly.
I say that he went on unflinchingly, and surely no goat could haveclimbed quicker than he did. Now standing over an abyss which made yousilly to look down into; now pulling himself up by bush or branch; atother times scrambling over loose shale as though he had neither handsnor knees to cut, he might well have scared the coolest who had met himwithout warning on such a road. As for the four men he had saved fromthe devils in the thickets below, I don't believe there was one of themwho didn't trust him from the first. The sea is a sure school forknowing men and their humours. If this old Frenchman chose to put apetticoat about his legs, and to wear a lion's mane down his back, weliked him all the better for that. What we had seen of the young girls'behaviour towards him made up for that which we did not know about him.He must have had a tender place somewhere in his heart, or three youngwomen wouldn't fondle him like a dog. Like a ship out of the night hadhe crossed our path; and his port must be our port, since we knew noother. That's why, I say, we followed him over the dangerous road likechildren follow a master. He was leading us to some good haven--I hadno doubt of it. The thing that remained to tell was, had we thestrength and the breath to reach it?
You may imagine that it was no light thing to run such a race as we hadrun, and to be asked to climb a mountain on the top of it. For my part,I was so dead tired that every step up the hillside was like a knife inmy side; and as for Peter Bligh, I wonder he didn't go rolling down tothe rocks, so hard did he breathe and so heavy he was. But men will dowonders to save their necks, and that is how it is that we went up andstill up, through the black ravine, to the blue peaks above. Aye, afearsome place we had come to now, with terrible gorges, and wildshapes of rocks, like dead men's faces leering out of the darkness. Thewind howled with a human voice, the desolation of all the earth seemedhere. And yet the old man must push on--up, up, as though he wouldtouch the very sky.
"The Lord be good to me," cried Peter Bligh, at last; "I can go nofarther if it's a million a mile! Oh, Mister Begg, for the love of God,clap a rope about the wild man's legs."
I pushed him on over a sloping peak of shale, and told him to hold histongue.
"Will you lie in the pool, then? Where's your courage, man? Anotherhundred yards and you shall stop to breathe. There's the old lionhimself waiting for us, and a big bill of thanks he has against us, tobe sure."
I said no more, but climbed the steep to the Frenchman's side, andfound him waiting on the bank of that which seemed to be a greatcup-like hole, black and bottomless and the last place you'd havepicked for a camp on all the hillside. Dolly Venn was already there,and Seth Barker, lying on the stones and panting like a great dog.Old Clair-de-Lune alone was fresh and ready, and able in his brokenEnglish to tell us what he wished.
"Messieurs," he said, "speak not long but go down. I myself am shipmatetoo. Ah, messieurs, you do wise to follow me. Down there no dog bark. Ishow you the ladder, and all be well. To-morrow you speak your ship--gohome. For me, never again--I die here with the children, messieurs;none shall come for old Clair-de-Lune, none, never at no time--but you,you I save for the shipmates' sake----"
It was odd talk, but no time to argue about it. I saw a ladder thrustup out of the pit, and when the old man went down I followed withouthesitation. A lantern lighted in the darkness showed me a hollow nest20 feet deep, perhaps, and carpeted over with big brown leaves and rugsspread out; and in one corner that which was not unlike a bed.Moreover, there was a little stove in the place and upon one side anawning stretched against the rain; while cooking pots and pans andother little things made it plain at a glance that this was the man'sown refuge in the mountains, and that here, at least, some part of hislife was spent. No further witness to his honesty could be asked for.He had brought us to his own home. It was time to speak of thanks.
"What you've done for us neither me nor mine will ever fo
rget," said I,warmly. "Here's a seaman's hand and a seaman's thanks. Should the daycome when we can do a like turn to you, be sure I'll be glad to hear ofit; and if it came that you had the mind to go aboard with us--aye, andthe young ladies, too--why, you'll find no one more willing than JasperBegg."
We shook hands, and he set the lantern down upon the floor. Peter Blighwas lying on his back now, crying to a calendar of saints to help him;Seth Barker breathed like a winded horse; little Dolly Venn stoodagainst the wall of the pit with his head upon his arm, like a runnerafter a race; the old Frenchman drew the ladder down and made all snugas a ship is made for the night.
"No one come here," he
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