In Search of the Castaways [183]
clinging to the sides of the "pah," were cutting a passage into its exterior wall. What could be the object? Did they know of the existence of the prisoners, or was it some private enterprise that led to the undertaking? The prisoners redoubled their efforts. Their fingers bled, but still they worked on; after half an hour they had gone three feet deep; they perceived by the increased sharpness of the sounds that only a thin layer of earth prevented immediate communication. Some minutes more passed, and the Major withdrew his hand from the stroke of a sharp blade. He suppressed a cry. John Mangles, inserting the blade of his poniard, avoided the knife which now protruded above the soil, but seized the hand that wielded it. It was the hand of a woman or child, a European! On V. IV Verne neither side had a word been uttered. It was evidently the cue of both sides to be silent. "Is it Robert?" whispered Glenarvan. But softly as the name was breathed, Mary Grant, already awakened by the sounds in the hut, slipped over toward Glenarvan, and seizing the hand, all stained with earth, she covered it with kisses. "My darling Robert," said she, never doubting, "it is you! it is you!" "Yes, little sister," said he, "it is I am here to save you all; but be very silent." "Brave lad!" repeated Glenarvan. "Watch the savages outside," said Robert. Mulrady, whose attention was distracted for a moment by the appearance of the boy, resumed his post. "It is all right," said he. "There are only four awake; the rest are asleep." A minute after, the hole was enlarged, and Robert passed from the arms of his sister to those of Lady Helena. Round his body was rolled a long coil of flax rope. "My child, my child," murmured Lady Helena, "the savages did not kill you!" "No, madam," said he; "I do not know how it happened, but in the scuffle I got away; I jumped the barrier; for two days I hid in the bushes, to try and see you; while the tribe were busy with the chief's funeral, I came and reconnoitered this side of the path, and I saw that I could get to you. I stole this knife and rope out of the desert hut. The tufts of bush and the branches made me a ladder, and I found a kind of grotto already hollowed out in the rock under this hut; I had only to bore some feet in soft earth, and here I am." Twenty noiseless kisses were his reward. "Let us be off!" said he, in a decided tone. "Is Paganel below?" asked Glenarvan. "Monsieur Paganel?" replied the boy, amazed. "Yes; is he waiting for us?" "No, my Lord; but is he not here?" inquired Robert. "No, Robert!" answered Mary Grant. "Why! have you not seen him?" asked Glenarvan. "Did you lose each other in the confusion? Did you not get away together?" "No, my Lord!" said Robert, taken aback by the disappearance of his friend Paganel. "Well, lose no more time," said the Major. "Wherever Paganel is, he cannot be in worse plight than ourselves. Let us go." Truly, the moments were precious. They had to fly. The escape was not very difficult, except the twenty feet of perpendicular fall outside the grotto. After that the slope was practicable to the foot of the mountain. From this point the prisoners could soon gain the lower valleys; while the Maories, if they perceived the flight of the prisoners, would have to make a long round to catch them, being unaware of the gallery between the Ware-Atoua and the outer rock. The escape was commenced, and every precaution was taken. The captives passed one by one through the narrow passage into the grotto. John Mangles, before leaving the hut, disposed of all the evidences of their work, and in his turn slipped through the opening and let down over it the mats of the house, so that the entrance to the gallery was quite concealed. The next thing was to descend the vertical wall to the slope below, and this would have been impracticable, but that Robert had brought the flax rope, which was now unrolled and fixed to a projecting point of rock, the end hanging over. John Mangles, before his friends trusted themselves to this flax rope, tried it; he did not think