The Second G.A. Henty

by G. A. Henty

  The sticks were removed carefully, but a quantity of fine snow fell in on their feet. One was then shoved up through the top, but the only effect, when it was removed, was that it was followed by some snow powdering down on their faces.

  “Let us tie four of them together,” Dick said. “I have plenty of string in my pocket.”

  This was done, fresh sticks being tied to the bottom as the first were shoved up through the snow.

  “Now, Tom, help me to work it about a bit, so as to press the snow all round, and make a sort of tube.”

  For some time a shower of little particles fell as they worked, but gradually these ceased. Then the stick was cautiously lowered, being untied joint by joint, and looking up the boys gave a shout of pleasure. At the top of the hole, which was some six inches wide at the bottom, was a tiny patch of light.

  “We have only just reached the top,” Dick said; “the snow must be near fifteen feet deep.”

  Small though the aperture was, it effected a sensible relief. The feeling of oppression ceased; half an hour later the hole was closed up, and they knew that the snow was still falling.

  Another length of stick was added, and the daylight again appeared.

  The boys slept a good deal; they had no sensation of cold whatever, the heat of their bodies keeping the air at a comfortable temperature. They did not feel so hungry as they expected, but they were very thirsty.

  “I shall eat some snow,” Tom said.

  “I have heard that that makes you more thirsty,” Dick remarked; “hold some in your hands till it melts, and then sip the water.”

  Four days passed; then they found that the snow no longer continued to cover up the hole, and knew that the snow-storm had ceased. The number of sticks required to reach the top was six, and as each of these was about four feet long they knew that, making allowance for the joints, the snow was over twenty feet deep.

  Very often the boys talked of home, and wondered what their friends were doing. The first night, when they did not return, it would be hoped that they had stayed at the farm; but somebody would be sure to go over in the morning to see, and when the news arrived that they were missing, there would be a general turn out to find them.

  “They must have given up all hope by this time,” Dick said, on the fifth morning, “and must be pretty sure that we are buried in the drift somewhere; but, as all the bottoms will be like this, they will have given up all hopes of finding our bodies till the thaw comes.”

  “That may be weeks,” Tom said; “we might as well have died at once.”

  “We can live a long time here,” Dick replied confidently. “I remember reading once of a woman who had been buried in the snow being got out alive a tremendous time afterwards. I think it was five weeks, but it might have been more. Hurrah! I have got an idea, Tom.”

  “What is that?” Tom asked.

  “Look here; we will tie three more sticks—”

  “We can’t spare any more sticks,” Tom said; “the snow is up to our knees already.”

  “Ah! but thin sticks will do for this,” Dick said; “we can get some thin sticks out here. We will tie them over the others, and on the top of all we will fasten my red pocket-handkerchief, like a flag; if any one comes down into this bottom they are sure to see it.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  The Red Flag

  Dick’s plan was soon carried into effect, and the little red flag flew as an appeal for help ten feet above the snow in the lonely valley.

  Down in Castleton events had turned out just as the boys had anticipated. The night of the snow-storm there was no sleep for their parents, and at daybreak, next morning, Mr Humphreys and Mr Jackson set out on foot through the storm for the distant farm. They kept to the road, but it took them four hours to reach the farm, for the drifts were many feet deep in the hollows, and they had the greatest difficulty in making their way through.

  When, upon their arrival, they found the boys had left before the gale began, their consternation and grief were extreme, and they started at once on their return to Castleton.

  Search-parties were immediately organised, and these, in spite of the fury of the storm, searched the hills in all directions.

  After the first day, when it was found that they were not at any of the shepherds’ huts scattered among the hills, all hopes of finding them alive ceased. So hopeless was it considered, that few parties went out on the three following days; but on the fifth, when the snow-storm ceased and the sun shone out, numbers of men again tramped the hills in the vague hope of finding some sign of the missing boys; they returned disheartened. The snow was two feet deep everywhere, twenty in many of the hollows.

  The next day but few went out, for the general feeling was, that the bodies could not be discovered until the thaw came, and at present it was freezing sharply.

  Among those who still kept up the search were several of the boys’ school-fellows. They had not been permitted to join while the snow-storm continued, and were therefore fresh at the work. A party of four kept together, struggling through the deep snow-drifts, climbing up the hills, and enjoying the fun, in spite of the saddening nature of their errand.

  On arriving at the brow of a deep valley five miles from home, they agreed that they would go no farther, as it was not likely that the missing boys could have wandered so far from their track. That they had in fact done so was due to a sudden change in the direction of the wind; it had been driving in their faces when they started, and with bent down heads they had struggled against it, unconscious that it was sharply changing its direction.

  “Just let us have a look down into the bottom,” one of the boys said; “there may be a shepherd’s hut here.”

  Nothing, however, was seen, save a smooth, white surface of snow.

  “What is that?” one exclaimed suddenly. “Look, there is a little red flag flying down there—come along.”

  The boys rushed down the hill at full speed.

  “Don’t all go near the flag,” one said; “you may be treading on their bodies.”

  They arrived within ten yards of the flag, in which they soon recognised a red pocket-handkerchief. They were silent now, awestruck at the thought that their companions were lying dead beneath.

  “Perhaps it is not theirs,” the eldest of the party said presently. “Anyhow I had better take it off and carry it home.”

  Treading cautiously and with a white face, for he feared to feel beneath his feet one of the bodies of his friends, he stepped, knee-deep in the snow-drift, to the flag. He took the little stick in his hand to pluck it up; he raised it a foot, and then gave a cry of astonishment and started back.

  “What is the matter?” the others asked.

  “It was pulled down again,” he said in awestruck tones. “I will swear it was pulled down again.”

  “Oh, nonsense!” one of the others said; “you are dreaming.”

  “I am not,” the first replied positively; “it was regularly jerked in my hand.”

  “Can they be alive down there?” one suggested.

  “Alive! How can they be alive after five days, twenty feet deep in the snow? Look at the flag!”

  There was no mistake this time; the flag was raised and lowered five or six times. The boys took to their heels and ran and gathered in a cluster fifty yards away on the hill-side.

  “What can it be?” they asked, looking in each others’ pale faces.

  The behaviour of the flag seemed to them something supernatural.

  “We had better go back and tell them at home,” one of them said.

  “We can’t do that; no one would believe us. Look here, you fellows,” and he glanced round at the bright sky, “this is nonsense; the flag could not wave of itself; there must be somebody alive below; perhaps there is a shepherd’s hut quite covered with the drift, and they have pushed the flag up through the chimney.”

  The supposition seemed a reasonable one, and a little ashamed of their panic the group returned towards the flag. The
eldest boy again approached it.

  “Go carefully, Tomkins, or you may fall right down a chimney.”

  The flag was still continuing its up and down movement; the boy approached and lay down on the snow close to it; then he took hold of the stick; he felt a pull, but held fast; then he put his mouth close to the hole, two or three inches in diameter, through which it passed.

  “Halloa!” he shouted; “is any one below?”

  A cry of “Yes, yes,” came back in reply. “The two Jacksons and Humphreys.”

  “Hurrah!” he shouted at the top of his voice, and his companions, although they had not heard the answer, joined in the cheer.

  “Are you all right?” he shouted down again.

  “Yes, but please get help and dig us out.”

  “All right; I will run all the way back; they will have men here in no time; good-bye; keep up your spirits.”

  “They are all there below!” he shouted to his friends. “Come on, you fellows, there is not a moment to lose.”

  Wild with excitement the boys made their way home; they rushed down the hill-sides, scrambled through the drifts in the bottoms, in which they sometimes disappeared altogether, and had to haul each other out, struggled up the hills, and, panting and breathless, rushed in a body into Mr Humphreys’ farmhouse, that standing nearest to them, on their way to Castleton.

  “We have found them; we have found them,” they panted out. “They are all alive.”

  Mrs Humphreys had risen from her seat in a chair by the fire as the boys entered, and uttering a faint cry fell back insensible.

  At this moment the farmer, who had but five minutes before returned, having been out since daybreak on the hills, hurried into the room; he was taking off his heavy boots when he heard the rush of feet into the house. “We have found them, sir; they are all alive!”

  “Thank God! thank God!” the farmer exclaimed reverently, and then seeing his wife insensible hurried towards her, uttering a shout for the servants. Two women ran in. “Look to your mistress,” he said; “she has fainted; the good news has been too much for her—the boys are found alive.”

  With mingled exclamations of gladness and dismay the servants raised their mistress.

  “Now, boys, where are they?” Mr Humphreys asked.

  The lads gave a rapid narrative of what had happened.

  “Under the snow all this time!” the farmer exclaimed; “they must be, as you say, in a hut. Now, will one of you stay and show me the way back, and the others go on to Mr Jackson’s and other places, and bring a strong party of men with shovels on after us?”

  The lad who had spoken with the prisoners remained to act as guide, the others hurried off.

  “Come with me, my boy, into the larder. There, help yourself; you must be hungry and tired, and you have got to do it over again.”

  Mr Humphreys then ran into the yard, and bade the four labourers provide themselves with shovels and prepare to accompany him at once.

  He then went back into the parlour. His wife was just opening her eyes; for a time she looked confused and bewildered, then suddenly she sat up and gazed beseechingly at her husband—memory had come back to her.

  “Yes, wife, thanks be to God, it is true—the boys are alive; I am just going with these men to dig them out. They are snowed up in a hut. Now, Jane, get a large basket, and put in it lots of bread, and bacon—the men who are working will want something; fill the largest stone jar with beer; put in a bottle of brandy and a bottle of milk, and set to and get some soup ready; bring three small mattresses downstairs and a lot of blankets.”

  Five minutes later the search-party started, Mr Humphreys and the guide leading the way; the men followed, one carrying five shovels; another, the basket and jar; the other two, three hurdles on which were placed the mattresses and blankets.

  It was no easy matter so laden making their way over the hills and through the deep drifts. Mr Humphreys took his share of the labour; but it was two hours from the time when they started before they arrived at the spot where the flag was waving, and the night was already closing in.

  Mr Humphreys hurried forward to the flag; he knelt down beside it.

  “Are you still alive, Dick?—it is I, your father!”

  “Yes, father, we are all alive, and we shall be all right now you have come. Don’t get too near the stick; we are afraid of the hole closing up, and smothering us.”

  “Which side is the door,” Mr Humphreys asked, “so that we can dig that way?”

  “There is no door, father; but you had better dig from below, because of the wall.”

  “There must be a door,” Mr Humphreys said to himself, as he rejoined the men. “There can’t be a hut without a door; Dick must be a little lightheaded, and no wonder. Now, lads, let us set to work from below.”

  The five men were soon at work, throwing aside the snow. In a short time the other parties arrived.

  Mr Humphreys had brought with him a stock of candles. These were lit and stuck in the snow, where, as there was no wind, they burnt steadily, affording sufficient light for the search. The work was all the more difficult from the lightness of the snow, as the sides fell in like sand as they worked upon it, and they were obliged to make a very broad cutting.

  At last there was a cheer, as they struck the ground.

  “Now, working up hill we must be at the hut in a few feet.”

  Twenty willing hands laboured away incessantly, but to their surprise no hut was met with; they worked and worked, throwing the snow behind them, until Mr Jackson struck his shovel upon something hard.

  “Here is a wall or something,” he said.

  Another minute uncovered a low wall of two feet in height, and directly afterwards a leg was popped up through the snow. A loud cheer broke from the men.

  But again the snow-drift fell in from the sides, and it was another quarter of an hour before the lads were lifted from the narrow shelter where they had for five days lain.

  The Jacksons were too weak to stand, but Dick was just able to keep on his feet. A cup of milk mixed with some brandy was given to each. Then Dick in a few words told the story, and the surprise of all, as they examined the little hut and heard the details of the almost miraculous preservation of the boys, was almost unbounded.

  They were now wrapped in blankets and laid on mattresses placed on the hurdles; the contents of the baskets—for others besides Mr Humphreys had brought a stock of provisions, not knowing how long the search-party might be engaged—were distributed among the workers, and then four men lifted each hurdle and the party started for home, a messenger having been sent back at full speed directly the boys were got out, to bear the glad news to Castleton.

  It was just midnight when the main body returned. A second cup of brandy and milk had done much to revive the two elder boys, and Dick had been able to eat a piece of bread. James, however, had fallen asleep directly he was wrapped in the blankets, and did not awake until he was set down at his father’s door.

  At both houses doctors were in waiting for their arrival. Dick was at once pronounced to be none the worse for his adventure, except that his feet were frost-bitten from long contact with the snow; indeed had it not been from this cause he could, on the following day, have been up and about. As it was, in a fortnight, he was perfectly himself again.

  Tom Jackson was confined to the house for many weeks; he lost several of his toes, but eventually became strong and hearty again. James, however, never recovered—the shock to his system had been too great; he lingered on for some months, and then sank quietly and painlessly.

  The events of the snow-storm left a far deeper trace upon Mrs Humphreys than upon her son. The terrible anxiety of those five days had told greatly upon her, and after they were over she seemed to lose strength rapidly. She had never been very strong, and a hacking cough now constantly shook her. The doctor who attended her looked serious, and one day said to Mr Humphreys—

  “I don’t like the state of your wife; she has a
lways been weak in her lungs, and I fear that the anxiety she went through has somehow accentuated her former tendency to consumption. The air of this place—you see she was born in the south—is too keen for her. If I were you I would take her up to London and consult some first-rate man in lung diseases, and get his opinion.”

  The next day Mr Humphreys started for London. The celebrated physician examined his wife, and afterwards took him aside.

  “I cannot conceal from you,” he said, “that your wife’s lungs are very seriously affected, although consumption has not yet thoroughly set in. If she remains in this country she may not live many months; your only hope is to take her abroad—could you do that?”

  “Yes, sir,” Mr Humphreys said. “I can take her anywhere. Where would you advise?”

  “She would benefit from a residence either in Egypt or Madeira,” the doctor said; “but for a permanency I should say the Cape. I have known many complete cures made there. You tell me that you are engaged in agricultural pursuits; if it is possible for you to settle there, I can give you every hope of saving her life, as the disease is not yet developed. If you go, don’t stay in the lowlands, but get up into the high plateaus, either behind the Cape itself, or behind Natal. The climate there is delicious, and land cheap.”

  Mr Humphreys thanked him and left, returning the next day to Castleton. The astonishment of the boys, and indeed of Mrs Humphreys, was unbounded, when the farmer announced in the evening at supper that he intended to sell his land and emigrate at once to the Cape.

  The boys were full of excitement at the new and strange idea, and asked numerous questions, none of which the farmer could answer; but he brought out a pile of books, which he had purchased in town, concerning the colonies and their resources, and for once Dick’s aversion to books vanished, and he was soon as much absorbed as his brother in the perusal of the accounts of the new land to which they were to go.

  On the following Saturday, to the surprise of all Castleton, an advertisement appeared in the Derbyshire paper announcing the sale by auction at an early date of Mr Humphreys’ farm.