Courage, True Hearts Part 29

Suddenly he uttered a bitter cry of anguish and despair.

"Mate, mate!" he shouted. "Oh, come, come! There has been a fearful accident, and Conal is killed."

As if hoping against hope, both he and the mate counted the number on the small ice plateau over and over again.

There had been six in all.

Now there were but five!

And these seemed now to be signalling for a.s.sistance.

There was but one thing to be done, however hopeless it might seem, and that was to get up and despatch a party to the rescue as soon as day should once more break.

Had they been ready they should have started at once. But Frank had a good head on his shoulders for one so young, and in a matter of life and death like this he was right in considering well what had best be done.

Of course he consulted with the mate, and he immediately suggested a rope of many, many fathoms in length.

"Doubtless," he said, "poor Conal is dead, or if stunned he will speedily freeze to death, but we would be all unwilling to sail away and leave the poor bruised body in the terrible creva.s.se."

"Have we rope enough on board to be of real service?" asked Frank in a voice broken with emotion.

"Bless you, yes, my boy, fifty fathoms of manilla, light, but strong enough to bear an ox's weight."

"Thank G.o.d!" cried Frank fervidly.

There was little thought of rest now till long past sunset.

A plank of extra breadth was got ready, and the rope was coiled so that several hands could a.s.sist in bearing it along.

Provisions were also packed, and so all was ready for the forlorn hope.

The relief party now lay down to s.n.a.t.c.h a few hours of rest, but, soon after the crimson and orange glory of the sky heralded the approach of the sun, they were aroused from their slumbers.

Breakfast was speedily discussed, and now they were ready.

There was no hesitation about Frank Trelawney, the c.o.c.kney boy, now. He was British all over, and brave because he was British. His dearest friend, Conal, lay stark and stiff in that fearful ice-gap; he would be one of the first to help the poor bruised body to bank, ay, and bedew it with tears which it would be impossible to restrain.

It had been an anxious and sad night for those on the hill. They could until sunset see the wretched Conal in that darksome creva.s.se, and they did all they could do, for they made up a bundle of rugs with plenty of provisions enclosed and hurled it down.

Strangely enough, he could talk to those on the hillside, and they to him, without elevating their voices.

They bade him be of good cheer, for signals from the _Flora_ told them that preparations for rescue were already being made.

Frank's march across the great snow plains was a forced one, but an hour's rest and a good meal was indispensable before the ascent could be attempted.

Perhaps no mountain was ever climbed more speedily by men in any country. They had the trail of the captain and his party to guide them, but nevertheless the work was arduous in the extreme.

Should they be in time?

Or was Conal dead?

These were the questions that they asked each other over and over again.

They hoped against hope, however, as brave men ever do.

CHAPTER XI.--THUS HAND IN HAND THE BROTHERS SLEEP.

They arrived at the plateau in the afternoon, and cautiously, yet quickly was the plank placed over.

Frank did not wait to attach the rope to his waist, so eager was he.

The yawning green gulf beneath him might have tried the nerve of Blondin. He paused not to think, however, but went over almost with the speed of a bird upon the wing, and more slowly the others followed.

They brought with them the end of the coils of rope, and these were speedily hauled across.

For a few moments Frank and Duncan stood silently clasping each other's hands; and the c.o.c.kney lad could tell by the look of anguish in his Highland cousin's face that the worst had occurred.

"Too late! too late!" Duncan managed to say at last, and he turned quickly away to hide the blinding tears.

"Poor Conal," explained the captain, "is lying down yonder--that black object is he enveloped in rugs, but he has made no sign for hours, and doubtless is frozen hard enough ere now."

"Come," cried Frank, "be of good cheer, my dear Duncan, till we are certain. Perhaps he does but sleep."

"Yes, he sleeps," said Duncan mournfully, "and death is the only door which leads from the sleep that cold and frost bring in their train."

"Come, men," cried Frank, now taking command, for he was full of life and energy, "uncoil the rope most carefully. I am light, Captain Talbot, so I myself will make the descent. I shall at once send poor Conal to bank, or as soon as I can get him bent on. Haul up when I shout."

When all the rope was got loose and made into one great coil, the end was thrown over into the crevice to make sure it would reach.

It did reach, with many fathoms to spare; so it was quickly hauled up and recoiled again.

A bight was now made at one end, and into this brave Frank quickly, and with sailor-like precision, hitched himself.

"Lower away now, men. Gently does it. Draw most carefully up as soon as I shout. When poor Conal is drawn to bank, lower again for me."

Next minute Frank had disappeared over the brink of the abyss, and was quickly and safely landed beneath.

He approached the bundle of rugs with a heart that never before felt so brimful of anguish and doubt.

And now he carefully draws aside the coverings. A pale face, white and hard, half-open eyes, and a pained look about the lowered brows and drawn lips.

Is there hope?