The Top of the World Part 71

At the hour of luncheon there came a slight stir in the bungalow.

Mary Ann thrust her amazing visage round the door and rolled her eyes in frightened wonder at what she saw. The big _baas_ was lying across the table, a p.r.o.ne, stricken figure, with his head upon his arms.

For a few seconds she stood in open-mouthed dismay, thinking him dead; for she had never seen him thus in life. Then she saw his shoulders heave convulsively, and promptly she turned and fled.

Again the bungalow was empty and still, the hours dragged on unheeded. Lower and lower pressed the threatening clouds. But the man who sat alone in the darkening room was blind to all outward things. He did not feel the pitiless, storm-laden heat of the day.

He was consumed by the agony of his soul.

It was evening before the end came suddenly; a dancing flash that lighted the heavens from east to west and, cras.h.i.+ng upon it, an explosion that seemed to rend the earth. It was a cataclysm of sound, drowning the faculties, stunning the senses, br.i.m.m.i.n.g up the void with awful tumult.

A great start ran through the man's bowed figure. He sat up dazed, stiffly opening his clenched hands. The world without seemed to be running with fire. The storm shrieked over the _veldt_. It was pandemonium.

Stiffly he straightened his cramped muscles. His heart was thumping in heavy, uneven strokes, obstructing his breathing. He fought for a few seconds to fill his lungs. The atmosphere was dense with sand. It came swirling in upon him, suffocating him.

He stood up, and was astounded to feel his own weakness against that terrific onslaught. Grimly he forced his way to the open window. The _veldt_ was alight with lurid, leaping flame. The far-off hills stood up like ramparts in the amazing glare, stabbed here and there with molten swords of an unendurable brightness. He had seen many a raging storm before, but never a storm like this.

The sand blinded him and he dragged the window shut, using all his strength. It beat upon the gla.s.s with baffled fury. The thunder rolled and echoed overhead like the chariot-wheels of G.o.d, shaking the world. The clouds above the lightning were black as night.

Suddenly far across the blazing _veldt_ he saw a sight that tightened every muscle, sending a wild thrill through every nerve.

It came from the hills, a black, swift-moving pillar, seeming to trail just above the ground, travelling straight forward through the storm. Over rocks and past _kopjes_ it travelled, propelled by a force unseen, and ever as it drew nearer it loomed more black and terrible.

He watched it with a grim elation, drawn irresistibly by its immensity, its awfulness. Straight towards him it came, and the lightning was dulled by its nearness and the thunder hushed. He heard a swis.h.i.+ng, whistling sound like the shriek of a sh.e.l.l, and instinctively he gathered himself together for the last great shock which no human power could withstand, the shattering asunder of soul and body, the swift amazing release of the spirit.

Involuntarily he shut his eyes as the thing drew near; but he did not shrink, nor was there terror in his heart.

"Thank G.o.d I shall die like a man!" he said through his set teeth.

And then--while he waited tense and ready for the great revelation, while all that was mortal in him throbbed with anguished expectation--the monster of destruction swerved as if drawn by a giant hand and pa.s.sed him by.

He opened his eyes upon a flicker of lightning and saw it whirling onwards, growing ever in volume, towards the _kopje_ which Sylvia had never conquered. The blackness of the sky above was appalling.

It hung so near, pressing earthwards through that mighty spout.

With bated breath he watched till the _kopje_ was blotted from his sight, and the demons of the storm came shrieking back. Then suddenly there came a crash that shook the world and made the senses reel. He heard the rush and swish of water, water torrential that fell in a streaming ma.s.s, and as his understanding came staggering back he knew that the first, most menacing danger was past. The cloud had burst upon the _kopje_.

The thunder was drowned in the rush of the rain. It descended in a vast sheet through which the lightning leapt and quivered. The light of day was wholly gone.

The bungalow rocked on its foundations; the wrath of the tempest beat around it as if it would sweep it away. The noise of the falling rain was terrific. He wondered if the place would stand.

Gradually the first wild fury spent itself, and though the storm continued the sky seemed to lift somewhat, to recede as if the swollen clouds were being drawn upwards again. In the glimmering lightning the _veldt_ shone like a sea. The water must be deep in the hollows, and he hoped none of the sheep had been caught. The fact that the farm was on rising ground, though it had been exposed to the full force of the storm, had been its salvation. He thought of the Kaffir huts, and dismissed the idea of any serious danger there. The stables, too, were safe for the same reason. It was only on the lower ground beyond the _kopje_ that the flood could be formidable. He thought of the watercourse, dry for so many weeks, now without doubt a seething torrent. He thought with a sudden leap of memory of the hut on the sand above. . . .

"I shall go there to-day." How long was it since he had heard those words? Had they indeed been uttered only that morning? Or did they belong to an entirely different period of his life? He felt as if many empty and bitter years had pa.s.sed over him since they had been spoken. Was it indeed but that morning that the boy's eyes with their fierce appeal had looked into his--and he had given him that stern command to await his coming?

His hand went up to the fastening of the window. He knew Guy.

There was a strain of honour in his nature which nothing could ever change. He would keep that sort of appointment or die in the attempt. If he still lived--if that frightful cloudburst had not overwhelmed him--he was there waiting above the raging torrent.

The rain beat with a deafening rattle upon the roof of the _stoep_.

It was falling perfectly straight now as if a million taps were running. And another memory flashed upon Burke as he stepped forth,--the memory of a girl who had clung to him in just such another downpour and begged him not to leave her. He heard the accents of her voice, felt again the slender youthfulness of her frame. He flung his arms wide with an anguished gesture.

Another voice, keen-edged and ruthless, was cutting its way through his soul, lacerating him, agonizing him. "And they loved each other. That made all the difference." Ah, G.o.d, the bitter difference that it made!

He went down the steps up which he had lifted her on that first day of her coming, and floundered into water that was half way to his knees. The rain rushed down upon him, beating upon his uncovered head. He was drenched to the skin in five seconds.

The lightning flashes were less frequent now, and the darkness in between less intense. He splashed his way cautiously round the bungalow to the stable.

A frightened whinnying greeted him. He heard the animals stamping in the sodden straw, but the water was not so deep here. It scarcely covered their hocks.

He spoke rea.s.suringly to them as he made his way to Diamond, Sylvia's mount. Diamond had always been a favourite with him since the day she had laid her face against his nose, refusing to doubt him. By faith and love! By faith and love!

He saddled the horse more by feeling than sight, and led him out.

The rain was still beating furiously down, but Diamond did not flinch with his master's hand upon him. He stood firm while Burke swung himself up. Then, with the lightning still flas.h.i.+ng athwart the gloom and the thunder rolling in broken echoes all around them, they went down the track past the _kopje_ to find the hut on the sand.

CHAPTER XII

THE SACRIFICE

The sound of water, splas.h.i.+ng, welling, overflowing, was everywhere. It was difficult to keep the track, but Diamond trod warily. He knew the _veldt_ by heart. Pa.s.sing the _kopje_, the rush of the water was like the spouting of a thousand springs. It gurgled and raced over its scarred sides. The p.r.i.c.kly pear bushes hung flattened over the rocks. By the fitful gleam of the lightning Burke saw these things. The storm was pa.s.sing, though the rain still beat down mercilessly. It would probably rain for many hours; but a faint vague light far down on the unseen horizon told of a rising moon. It would not be completely dark again.

They splashed their way past the _kopje_, and immediately a loud roaring filled his ears. As he had guessed the dry watercourse had become a foaming torrent. Again a sharp anxiety a.s.sailed him. He spoke to Diamond, and they turned off the track.

The animal was nervous. He started and quivered at the unaccustomed sound. But in a moment or two he responded to Burke's insistence, and went down the sloping ground that led to the seething water.

Burke guided him with an unerring hand, holding him up firmly, for the way was difficult and uneven. A vivid flash of lightning gave him his direction, and by it he saw a marvellous picture. The spruit had become a wide, das.h.i.+ng river. The swirl and rush of the current sounded like a sea at high tide. The flood spread like an estuary over the _veldt_ on the farther side, and he saw that the bank nearest to him was br.i.m.m.i.n.g.

The picture was gone in a moment, but it was registered indelibly upon his brain. And the hut--Guy's hut--was scarcely more than twenty yards from that swirling river which was rising with every second.

"He can't be there," he said aloud. But yet he knew that he could not turn back till he had satisfied himself on this point. So, with a word of encouragement to Diamond, he splashed onwards.

Again the lightning flared torchlike through the gloom, but the thunder of the torrent drowned the thunder overhead. He was nearing the hut now, and found that in places the rain had so beaten down the sandy surface of the ground that it sank and yielded like a quagmire. He knew that it was only a matter of minutes--possibly seconds--before the crumbling bank above the stream gave way.

He was close to the hut now, though still he a.s.sured himself that the place was empty. The roar of the water was deafening, seeming to numb the senses. He never knew afterwards whether a light suddenly kindled as he drew near behind the canvas that screened the hut-window, or if it had been there all along and the leaping elusive lightning had blinded him to it. But the light was there before him as he reached the place, and in a moment the knowledge flashed upon him beyond all questioning that he had not come upon a vain quest.

He knew also with that menacing roar below him and the streaming rain around that there was not a moment to be lost. He swung himself from Diamond's back and secured the bridle to a projecting piece of wood at the back of the hut. Then, floundering and slipping at every step, he made his way round to the door.

He groped for some seconds before he found it. It was closed and he knew that there was no handle on the outside. He battered upon it with his fist, shouting Guy's name.

There came no answer to his summons, but the sound of the water seemed to swell in volume, filling the night. It drove him to a fierce impatience. If he had not seen the light he would scarcely have taken the risk. None but a fool would have remained in such a death-trap. But the presence of the light forced him on. He could not leave without satisfying himself. He set his shoulder against the closed door and flung the full weight of his body into one stupendous effort to force an entrance.

The wood cracked and splintered with the shock. He felt himself pitching forward and grabbed at the post to save himself. The door swung back upon its hinges, and he burst into the hut headlong.

The flame of a candle glimmered in his eyes, momentarily dazzling him. Then he heard a cry. A figure sprang towards him--a woman's figure with outstretched arms waving him back! Was he dreaming?

Was he mad? It was Sylvia's face, white and agonized, that confronted him--Sylvia's voice, but so strained that he hardly recognized it, broken and beseeching, imploring him for mercy.

"Oh, Burke--for G.o.d's sake--don't kill him! Don't kill him! I will kill myself--I swear--if you do."

He caught the outflung hands, gripping them hard, a.s.suring himself that this thing was no illusion. He looked into her eyes of wild appeal.

She attempted no, further entreaty, but she flung herself against him, impeding him, holding him back. Over her shoulder he looked for Guy; and found him.