CHAPTER XXV.
THE RESCUE.
It was a night of anxiety for Charlie and his faithful guide, and with great joy they hailed the first streaks of day-light, when they set out on their perilous journey in the track of the Warrigals. Quandak's vision and judgment were never before put to such a test, and bravely he encountered every obstacle which the fugitives left behind in order to obliterate their trail. The bush was set fire to in several places, and all traces were adroitly confounded, but to no purpose, the experienced tracker surmounted them all, and like a blood hound, was gaining quickly upon them.
The course taken by the fugitives led along the summit of the range, parallel with a wild mountain stream, until arriving at a certain point where some tracks diverged from the main, down towards the river.
Quandak was at a loss which of these to follow, as the Warragals had apparently separated, in order, no doubt, to baffle pursuit, He, however, followed the most legible which the largest body of the tribe had taken.
After travelling for a little distance with great care, he came to a dead halt, exclaiming, with a doubtful shake of the head, "Baal come up this way," and instantly retraced his steps to where the tracks separated.
He then followed those leading towards the cliffs, when he suddenly picked up something off the ground, and with delight exclaimed, "Ah Baal! stupid Maria," at the same time exhibiting a bit of that female's calico dress, evidently dropped by her in order to lead her husband on the right track.
This signal infused fresh vigour into the trackers, who prosecuted their task with indefatigable energy. They now scrambled down precipitous cliffs and other obstacles towards the river, Quandak picking up several pieces of calico.
On arriving at the last ledge of rocks overhanging the river, a sight burst upon their view which filled them with a mixture of fear and hope. Immediately opposite on a small point of level ground, and on the same side of the river where it had taken a sudden bend, were encamped a number of natives, elaborately painted and armed (a sign of hostility), which plainly denoted that the pursuers were not a moment too soon, as there was a visible commotion, indicating that some extraordinary act was about to take place.
They had formed themselves into a semi-circle, within which Charlie and Quandak beheld the two females they were searching for tied with their backs to two trees, and with their arms bound. Quandak told Charlie that this was the manner in which these savages put their captives to death when hard pressed, which fact Charlie had the most positive proof of on seeing two of the savages stop forth with their spears poised, and each placing himself in front of his intended victim.
Charlie, whose blood curdled in his veins, proposed to charge the savages at once, but Quandak held him back, saying, that before they could get round the bend of the river, the work of death would be complete, and proposed instead that as their rifles would kill at that distance, and as no time was to be lost, that each should take a true aim at his adversary both firing at the same time, when they saw the executioners shake their spears in the air.
In conformity with this proposition, the riflemen elevated their rifles, and with a steadiness and truer aim than ever they practised before, at the expected signal both fired.
The sharp ring of the rifles, the death shriek of the savages as they rolled on the ground, while the spears which were intended for their victims stuck quivering in the trees above their heads, caused such a panic among the savages that some plunged into the river, others ran for shelter among the scrub, and all deserting the scene and their victims, whom they intended to sacrifice.
With bounding steps the fortunate marksmen flew round the bend of the stream, cut the currijong which bound the captives, who fell into their arms.
What a moment of joy was that for the long-separated lovers, and now resored to each other under such strange circumstances. When the first effusion of love was over, Bella was the first to find speech, and whispered in her lover's ear, "Charlie dear, I have been true to you."
What a load of anguish these words removed from his mind. Folding her still more closely in his embrace, he exclaimed, raising his eyes to Heaven, "I believe you, Bella. Providence has been bountiful to us both."
Quandak, leading his faithful Maria, interrupted this happy re-union, by reminding them that their safety was not yet complete, and entreated them to make a speedy retreat from such dangerous quarters, remarking that when the effect of the sudden fright was over, the Warrigals would take courage, and attack them from the cliffs. Bella seconded this proposition, well knowing the disposition and determination of the Warrigals, especially Bungilina and his brother, whom she felt certain would face death sooner than surrender herself and Maria. A speedy retreat was accordingly commenced, but the steep ascent and intricate path made it a hard task, especially for Bella, and delayed them considerably.
On surmounting the last obstacle, and considering themselves comparatively safe, what was their alarm on seeing two powerful savages, with heavy bludgeons, advancing to contest the passage. "Save yourselves," exclaimed Bella, in terror, when Charlie and Quandak presented their rifles; but, alas! misfortune still clung to them, for they found that their sudden happiness had driven from their minds the duty necessary for their safety, namely, the re-loading of their rifles.
They had no room for consideration or time to repair the deficiency, for the savages attacked them at once, and their only means of defence was to take their rifles by the barrels, and ward off the blows, which were aimed at their heads, but the stocks flew to pieces at the first blow.
It was now that the small sword exercise, which Charlie had practised with his friend John Lorn, stood him in good need. Bungilina, who attacked him, applied his weapon with great skill and strength, but was much disappointed that his white adversary was equally skilful in parrying the blows intended for his head.
The contest now became hot and terrible to behold, and Bungilina, who was exhausting his strength in the rage with which he forced back his adversary towards the cliff, when, unfortunately, Charlie tripped, which caused an opening in his guard, which was instantly seized, the savage bringing his bludgeon down on his head, felling him instantly.
Bungilina stood over him with a malicious grin, dashing with one hand his matted hair from his brows in order to deal the finishing blow with more certainty. That moment Bran, who had been imprisoned by them in a small cave, broke loose, and missing his mistress, followed on her trail, and arrived at this critical moment. One look, and one command from her in Gaelic—"Bair air" (Seize him)—was sufficient; the noble animal sprung at Bungilina's bare throat, fastened his fangs in him, and brought him to earth. The savage, seized with a terrible superstition, caught the hound in his arms, when both rolled over and over in their deadly embrace, until they disappeared over the cliff.
Bella now ran to her lover's assistance, placed his head in her lap, and bathed his pallid face with her tears. The blow, which was partially broken, had only stunned him, and after a short while he revived.
The contest between Matoka and Quandak was no less severe, for both were well matched and equally expert in the use of their arms; however, a slight advantage lay on the side of Matoka, whose implement was more adapted to the struggle, and Quandak, like his master, was acting on the defensive, while his antagonist was pressing him very hard. But, fortunately for the former, a faithful friend was near who watched over him, for Maria stole quietly behind him, snatched his tomakawk from his belt, and concealing it among her clothes, crept unperceived behind the excited Matoka, then with a well-directed aim she buried the blade in his skull.
Charlie, who had recovered at the time, perceived the act, while Bella covered her eyes with her hands in horror; but as Charlie justified the act she became calm.
It was now that she satisfied her lover as to the cause of his escape from a violent death and who had been the agent, when both approached the edge of the cliff in order to ascertain the fate of the chief savage and the faithful hound, when a frightful spectacle presented itself.
The body of Bungilina lay apparently lifeless among the loose rocks, while the poor hound, whose spine had been dislocated, was struggling to raise himself. Their sorrow at the fate of the poor dog made them descend to the spot, hoping still to save him, but, alas, it was in vain, the poor animal whined and licked their hands without being able to rise, which made them shed tears for him. Their lamentations were soon disturbed by the cooey of the approaching savages who were coming to ascertain the fate of their leaders, when the necessity of saving their own lives compelled them to bid the last adieu to the faithful Bran who had sacrificed his life to save theirs. On seeing them depart, he made one more effort to rise, but with a mournful and heart-rending howl, he fell lifeless on the body of Bungilina.
A precipitate move was now made from the scene of such a frightful tragedy, but they were not long gone when the yells and lamentations of the savages over their fallen leaders caught their ears. Quandak halted for a while, and exultingly exclaimed—"Ah, big one frightened Warrigal now. That one too much coward, come up when chief tumble down." This proved correct, for no more annoyance was offered to the party who continued their homeward journey without any molestation on the part of the natives.
The four weeks which Charlie allotted as the time when Donald was to break open the package containing his instructions, were now expired. On the last evening Donald and his wife, with their two little ones, Bella and Charlie, after removing the tea things, sat down with great anxiety to puruse the contents, Donald, with little Charlie on his knee, and Mary with Bella in her lap.
The letter stated that, although the writer had made up his mind to extend his explorations towards another part of the Alps, he was also actuated by other motives; the strange impressions he felt, and the proofs which had come to his knowledge that a white captive was among the Warrigals, caused a great amount of anxiety to him, believing as he did that the captive was his long lost Bella McKay.
The faithful overseer could read no longer, and his fond wife burst into tears, embracing her little one, she exclaimed—"It must be true, Donald! I thought as much! Do'nt you remember Ni Ruari's prophecy? Takawarrant told me this very day that there was a white woman like me among the Warrigals! Alas, they are both lost now." Donald, who concurred in these opinions, gave expression to his grief in the same manner, fondling his little boy in his arms. The faithful servants having now no doubt but that their master and mistress had fallen victims to the savages, were rocking themselves in their chairs, with their moistened eyes buried in their children's curly locks.
How long this outburst of sorrow would continue it is hard to conjecture, but it was interrupted by Mary feeling two soft hands laid on her shoulders, when, suddenly raising her head, she beheld two dark eyes gazing affectionately in her own. "It is her! It's her own beautiful eyes! I would swear to them!" And rising up, the affectionate and overjoyed Mary was locked in the fond embrace of her long lost mistress.
The scene which ensued is impossible to describe. Mary Munro was seized with her old fit of delight. She danced round the room, giving utterance to her joy, exclaiming, "She is as beautiful as ever! The sun has made her more charming than ever, only for that frightful fur dress."
After the last remark, Mary conducted Bella to her own room, and brought from her wardrobe the largest and best dress she had, which she offered to her as a substitute for her squirrel-skin robe, which, when cast off, caused no little amusement to them. Nor did Bella's change of dress lessen their merriment, it being far too short for her.
On returning to the room, Mary laid a comfortable meal before the famished and almost worn-out travellers, after which Quandak, Maria, and Takawarrant were called in.
The joy which the latter manifested on seeing his generous and beloved Lindigo was most affecting, and all the company felt more gratitude and happiness than they had known for years.
A solemn and binding agreement was entered into by all, which was that the whole should be kept a secret from the public, until they had left the country, which was decided upon. Several reasons induced them to form this resolution, one of which was that Bella could not fancy herself secure while in the vicinity of the tribe, and amid scenes where she had endured so much suffering.