CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
LEFT ALONE.
We must now go back a little.
Standing there on the mountain side, enveloped in the thick mist,nothing visible but a few yards of wet ground, Hilda Clive felt asthough she were turned into stone.
How far had she come? how retrace her steps? It occurred to her thatshe had better not move until she had thoroughly made up her mind whichdirection to take. To this end she lifted up her voice in a loud, clearcall. No answer.
Again she lifted up her voice, and on the principle that a person willmore readily catch his own name than any other word she called to hercompanion by his. Still no answer.
She tried another plan. She thought of every kind of call that shecould sound on the highest of notes, so as to produce the most carryingeffects. All useless. Still, no answer.
Should she move, or would not her best plan be to remain exactly whereshe was? The mist might lift, and then she could find her way back,whereas if she began wandering about she might lose her bearingsentirely. She knew she was in a mountain cloud, and such lift assuddenly as they come down. On the other hand, they are apt to hangabout the slopes for days. And as though to emphasise this side of thequestion the dark folds seemed to close in around her darker and darker.
She tried her voice again, this time turning to every point of thecompass as she sent forth her clear, high-pitched calls. Then her heartseemed to hammer within her as though it would burst. She heard ananswer.
Faint and far away it sounded, coming from a little above her.Impulsively she took a few steps in that direction then called again.The answer came this time louder and more distinct.
Poor Hilda! She could have sunk to the ground with sheer heart sicknessand despair as she stood there listening. The answer was the mere echoof her own voice. She tried it again and again to make sure of this,and then two or three tears forced themselves from her eyes, and a sobescaped her. It was too terrible, too heart-breaking altogether.
No. It was clearly of no use standing still; besides, she felt the coldand damp. She must move if only to keep off the deadly shivers whichwere creeping upon her. But in what direction? And as though thebewildering effect of the mist was not enough she remembered that intrying to catch the horse she had been drawn to describe a completecircle, and that three times: in fact the perverse brute had done forher exactly what is done for the blindfolded one in blind man's buff,when he or she is started upon his or her quest, and with exactly thesame effect.
Darker it grew. Night was coming on, and far down in the valley beneatha wolf howled--then another and another. Hilda remembered how they hadlistened to the cry of the ravening beasts there in the lighted securityof the camp, could almost have smiled to herself as she pictured MrsTarleton, or any other woman of her acquaintance, here, in her ownplight, with the certainty before her of a night in the awful lonelinessof these savage mountain solitudes, surrounded, for all she could tell,by prowling beasts of prey. That such would hardly do less than simplyexpire she firmly believed, and in truth the situation was fraught withevery terrifying and exhausting element even for her.
Yet Hilda Clive thought but little of herself in the matter. What wouldbecome of her companion, left alone on the wet hill side--ill, fainting,fever-stricken? and this was the idea that caused her to raise her handto her head and press her brows hard as though to control the working ofthe busy brain within the limits of coherency.
What should she do, and how do it? Again and again all sorts ofexpedients would suggest themselves. She would walk a given distance ineach direction--not down, for she had been descending slightly in herpursuit of the horse--then retrace her steps, and try another. Shewould walk all night if necessary--but she would find him. And then,with a terrible heart sinking, two considerations occurred to her--onethat she might pass him within a few yards in the darkness and mist, theother that she herself was beginning to feel faint with fatigue andhunger. No matter. If will power could carry anyone through, it shouldher.
Then an idea came to her--swept in upon her mind like a lighthouse flashin the gloom; for it seemed just the idea she had been groping after.The quarter of the wind!
It had blown upon her right ear she remembered during her pursuit of thehorse--yet rather from behind. She remembered it because of an escapedtress of hair which had played about her cheek. Now by getting it uponher left ear from in front, and keeping it there, she would be able toretrace her steps. Thrilling with renewed thankfulness and hope shestarted to put this plan into immediate execution.
But alas! for poor Hilda. There was now no wind at all, or but faintbreaths of it, and these she thought to perceive were coming from anyand every direction. Then she remembered that in following the horsethe rise of the slope was on her right. By keeping it on her left shemight find her way. Anything rather than remain inactive.
It was quite dark now, but the cloud showed no disposition to lift.Stumbling onward, every now and then lifting her voice in a call, Hildapressed on, with a determination and endurance well-nigh superhuman.Twice she fell, bruising herself among the stones, then up and on again.He would die if he were not found, would die, fever-stricken, helpless,alone. Die! The word seemed ringing in her brain, and then--and then--what was this? She was beginning to go _downhill_.
Downhill! That could not be. She had kept steadily upward, and yet,without swerving in the least from the course she had been following,she was plainly and unmistakably walking downhill, and this fact onceestablished, the significance of the situation became clear. She washopelessly and entirely out of her reckoning, and had no more idea as towhere she had left Herbert Raynier than she had as to where she herselfnow stood. And then nature asserted itself over mind. Overwhelmed withdespair and hunger and exhaustion poor Hilda sank to the ground in afaint that was more than half slumber.
When she awoke the mist had entirely disappeared, and the sun was wellup in the blue sky. A shadow was between it and her, and she startedsomewhat as her eyes rested on a dark face, crowned by a voluminousturban. A man was bending over her, a man clothed in the loose garmentsof the Gularzai, and armed with a sword and rifle, and the startled lookgave place to one of intense relief as she recognised Mehrab Khan.
"Where is the _Huzoor_?" was her first question in the best Hindustanishe could command. Then Mehrab Khan proceeded to explain the situation,partly by signs, partly in Hindustani, of which latter Hilda understooda good deal more than she could talk. The _Huzoor_ had been found by aparty of Gularzai, lying ill upon the mountain side. They had notharmed him, but had carried him away--probably to the Nawab's village;which intimation filled poor Hilda with unspeakable relief andthankfulness. For Herbert Raynier had the highest opinion of MushimKhan and his brother. He had often talked to her about them, andpromised she should see them on the occasion of the next _jirga_ atMazaran. If he was the Nawab's prisoner, he was safe, she decided. Butif Mehrab Khan knew otherwise, his Oriental inscrutability did notbetray the fact.
The Baluchi was reproachful, however, that they had left theirhiding-place before his return, and he managed to convey to his hearerthat he had got in with some people whom it had been impossible to leaveat his own convenience without exciting suspicion. When he had foundthe place deserted he had followed on their track, but the cloud hadbaffled him, even as it had them. He had found the runaway steed, andnow his plan was to take the Miss Sahib into Mazaran at once. The waywas clear just now and they ought to take advantage of it.
Refreshed with some food, which Mehrab Khan produced, Hilda felt almostlight-hearted. And then, going back over her wanderings now in theclear sunny daylight, she saw that, though the direction taken was notso greatly at fault, she had ascended much too high, and had gained akotal over which she was passing into another valley, when she haddetected the declivity of the ground.
Mazaran made a great deal of Hilda Clive when she returned safe andsound. What an experience she had had, and that poor Mr Ra
ynier, gushedthe feminine side of Mazaran. Well, he would soon be back among themagain. Mushim Khan had too much to lose to incur deposition, if notdestruction, by allowing harm to happen to so important a representativeof the Government as the Political Agent, pronounced Mazaran, andespecially Colonel Polwarth C.O., who was not in a position to weakenthe garrison by a single man, it being none too strong as it was.Indeed the station was in a state of siege, its European inhabitantsspending each night within the fort, and the bearded, long-hairedtribesmen, formerly conspicuous in the streets and bazaar, were nowconspicuous by their absence. Meanwhile, reinforcements were anxiouslyawaited, and it looked as if they might be so for long, for a very largeforce was in the field further along the border, where, according to thereports that came in, fighting was abundant and brisk.
Tarleton was somewhat subdued since his return, and whereas Haslam wasrather fond of expatiating upon their adventures, the Civil Surgeon wasmore inclined to shelve the subject when it was broached. It wasn't athing to _bukh_ about, he declared, nor could he understand how thatfellow Haslam could _bukh_ about nothing else. They had neither of themcut so great a figure in it for the matter of that, and he for his partdidn't seem to care if he never heard it mentioned again. Inwardly hewas relieved that so far no harm had come to Raynier through thedisclosure wrung from him by Murad Afzul.
"Just fancy, dear," Mrs Tarleton exclaimed, when she had fussed overHilda enough by way of welcome back. "Who do you think has arrived,just as poor Mr Raynier is away too? Isn't it sad?--and he not here towelcome her?"
"To welcome whom?" said Hilda, tranquilly.
"Why, his _fiancee_, of course."
"I didn't know he'd got one."
"No more did we, no more did any of us," rejoined Mrs Tarleton, glancingcuriously at the girl, yet feeling intensely relieved at the nonchalanceof her reply, for she too had noticed, in common with Haslam, howRaynier and her guest had been getting, as the Forest Officer put it,uncommonly thick together. "He was remarkably close on the subject, Imust say."
"Well, he naturally would be. That trick of gushing on the subject andrunning about showing the latest photograph and all that, is idiotic,and I can't imagine Mr Raynier being idiotic. Who is she?"
"A Miss Daintree. Rather a stylish-looking girl, handsome too. She'sstaying with the Croftons."
"Yes? Well, they'll have a happy reunion and live happy ever after."
Mrs Tarleton felt more relieved than ever. The light laughing badinageof the girl's tone could never have been assumed, she decided. Therewas nothing between them, then.
But Hilda Clive was putting two and two together. She rememberedRaynier's absence of mind and unwonted depression the day they had setforth on their ride which had ended so tragically. This, then, was thenews which had disconcerted him. The impending arrival of the girl towhom he was engaged gave him no pleasure--rather the reverse--and if so,why? The puzzle was no difficult one to piece together; indeed, to herperceptions, it constituted no puzzle at all.