CHAPTER XV
BOUND TO THE WHEEL
Gerald Danvers was never able to realize how long he lay there.
Blissful moments of unconsciousness came with awful awakenings to thereality of that painful binding. Every time he moved the cords seemed toattain the heat of redness, and to burn into his flesh.
Thirst--that was the most awful feeling. He had not been there an hourbefore he was assailed with it.
The handkerchief made his mouth water, and the linen seemed to act likeblotting paper, absorbing and drawing up every drop of moisture in hisbody.
He could turn his head, and there, not a yard away, sparkling in thesun, was water trickling down; the waterfall which was to swell in bodyand force and whirl him to his death.
It was not long before he was praying for death--life seemed so full ofpain.
The acute agony of that immovable position, with the cords seeming tocut into his flesh every time he attempted to move, became unendurable.
He could keep no count of the hours, but when at last the setting sunturned things red, he felt that he had been there days and days.
Not that he noticed the color of the sun; the blood which had rushed tohis head made things all black one moment, all red the next.
Night fell; all was darkness--so black a darkness that in the shadow inwhich he lay he could not see the faintest outline of the mill.
Presently a little speck of light appeared above him. Water was in hiseyes, tears forced there by the pain, blurring his sight.
The little light looked like a flashing diamond. He could not wipe thewater from his eyes, but when presently it fell away, and his vision wasclearer, he saw that what had appeared as a speck of light was a star inthe sky above him.
Then he realized that it was night. He gathered some idea of the time,too.
He knew that the moon did not rise till nine o'clock, and it had notrisen yet. It was clear and cloudless, the canopy above him, and he knewthat ere long the moon would rise and lighten up his surroundings.
Then he lapsed into unconsciousness again.
From that state he was aroused by a noise--aroused to find that the moonwas up, and flooding half the mill wheel with light, and throwing theother half in deep shadow.
His head and chest were in the former, and the rest of him in darkness.
The noise was slight, but his tense nerves caught it; it was on thewheel, and presently he was conscious that some one was feeling hislegs, and then higher up his body, round his waist.
He guessed it was the mad woman come back, and he was not sorry. Hestill heard the slight noise, and imagined it to be the woman creepingalong the paddle.
He closed his eyes.
Not that he feared death. In his conscious moments, for hours past, hehad been praying for release from his torturing position--praying fordeath.
And he felt that it was coming at last. He closed his eyes because hedid not want to see in what shape it had arrived.
He guessed that it would be a noiseless weapon, perhaps a knife, and afeeling of wonder stole over him, wonder of how it would feel as theknife sheathed itself in his heart.
No feeling of fear, not a scrap; he would welcome it. It would end thepain. And then he prayed.
He felt the movements about his legs, but his limbs were so numbed thathe could not very well tell what was being done.
And then he felt a weight on his chest, a moving weight. He thought thathis last moments had arrived--that his murderer was getting closer andcloser. Still he prayed.
His had not been a very religious upbringing. Indeed, there had beentimes when he had scoffed at godly people, and the idea of entering achurch had never occurred to him since his childhood.
There had been nothing particularly vicious in his life, but the idea ofprayer had never entered his mind. He had, he had thought, too much todo in thinking of this world to trouble himself about the next one. Timeenough for that when he was dying.
Quite a number of persons think that way. The heavenly bookkeepers aretroubled only with entries on the debit side during most men's healthytimes.
No grateful acknowledgment rises for that same health; it is only whenillness reaches the man on earth that he thinks of heaven.
The recording angel can usually gauge a man's health by a reference tothe credit side of his ledger account. The entries tell.
Now, with closed eyes, Gerald Danvers prayed. He thanked God forbringing his torture to an end, and asked forgiveness for his previousforgetfulness. He was earnest in his prayer, and he prayed on. And allthe time he felt the movement on his chest; but his life was spared.
Then he wondered why. He knew that his chest was in the moonlight, andthat if he opened his eyes he could see his murderer there.
And the suspense was as bad to bear as the previous torture. He wouldopen his eyes.
Danvers opened his eyes. Could he have given vent to a scream it wouldhave been one of mortal fear and agony.
His cry to God was not one of thankfulness now, but of fear, horror, andfear of being eaten alive!
For on his chest, his legs, his whole body, there seemed to be swarminghundreds and hundreds of huge rats!
Perhaps his prayer was answered, for once more he became oblivious ofhis surroundings. And he remained unconscious for many hours, so much sothat, when next he opened his eyes, the sun was rising, and the wholeplace was bright with the light of daybreak.
He cast his eyes to his chest, to his feet; thank God! not a sign of arat. Moreover, the feeling of numbness and pain had left him.
He began to wonder whether it had all been a fearful dream.
And then something happened which startled him. A fly alighted on hisface.
Involuntarily he started to brush it away with his hand. And the handbrushed it away!
It was not till he had so used his hand that he realized that thatmember was free. Then he could not understand.
He lay there quite still with the hand poised in the air--his own handfree. He looked at his wrist, and there were the red marks where therope had been. He could not understand it.
Gently he tried to move his left hand--and succeeded. Lifted it till itgrasped the blade of the wheel to his left.
Still he lay quiet, unable to realize that his hands were free--and whatthat meant.
But it did not take long for the full meaning to burst on him, and whenit did, he lost no time.
A moment after he was in a sitting position, and had wrenched thehandkerchief from his aching, parched mouth.
The sitting position pained him intensely for a few moments, after hislong recumbent attitude, and he rested for the pain to go off.
He heard a noise, and, looking down over the wheel, saw cattle on thebrink of the rivulet--cattle endeavoring to bury their noses in the coolwater.
The sight gave him fresh life; he must reach that water and drink, anddrink, and drink.
He essayed to move his legs--he could. He was quite free. Just cramped,that was all.
What could it mean? How had his liberation been effected?
He looked around, and there was not a trace of the ropes which had boundhim.
Yet stay, what was that upon which he was sitting? He put his handsbeneath him, and withdrew a piece of rope--a piece of greasy rope.
He examined it carefully. It was a piece that had been entirely coveredby his body. He examined the ends, and the marks thereon told him all.
The rats which had caused him such horror had been his salvation.Attracted by the fat sodden rope, they had gnawed it and gnawed it allthe while he was lying unconscious.
And now--thank God--he was free at last.