Fifty-Two Stories For Girls Part 33

Elma lifted her long lashes with a glance of unfeigned surprise. "Oh, mother," she said humbly, "how could I snub any one? I am afraid of the clever men. I like to talk to the boys because they are as silly as I am myself, and they would not laugh at me for saying stupid things."

"No one is going to laugh at you, goosey," said her mother.

"I wish I was not going," said Elma.

The ayah came out of the bedroom, and wrapped the tall young figure in a long white opera-cloak; and then they all went down together to the front verandah, where the jampans waited with the brown, bare-legged runners in their smart grey and blue liveries.

Mrs. Macdonald started first. "Don't call out _jeldi_ too often, Elma,"

she called back, laughing: "I don't want to be run over."

And the ayah, hearing the word _jeldi_, explained to the jampannis that the Miss Sahib desired, above all things, fleetness, and that she had no mind to sit behind a team of slugs.

Elma got in very gingerly, and the ayah settled her draperies with affectionate care. The dark little woman loved her, because she was gentle and fair and never scolded or hurried.

The night was very dark. The road was by narrow backways, rough, heavily shadowed, and unprotected in many places. The jampannis started off at a run down the steep path as soon as they had pa.s.sed through the gate, and Elma sat trembling and quaking behind them, gripping both sides of the little narrow carriage as she was whirled along. Once or twice it b.u.mped heavily over large stones in the road; and when they had gone some little distance a dispute seemed to arise between the runners. They stopped the jampan and appealed to her, but she could not understand a word they said. She could only shake her head and point forward. Several minutes were lost in this discussion, and when at length it was decided one way or the other, the men started again at a greater speed than ever, to make up for the lost time.

They b.u.mped and flew along the dark road, and whirled round a corner too short. One of the men on the inner side of the road stumbled up the bank, and, losing his balance, let go the pole, and the jampan heeled over. Elma's startled scream unnerved the other runners, who swerved and stumbled, and in a moment the jampan was overturned down the side of the _kudd_. The white figure in it was shot out and went rolling down the rough hillside among the scrub and th.o.r.n.y bushes and broken stakes that covered it.

The jampannis ran away; and after that one scream of Elma's there was silence on the dark road.

It seemed to her that she was years rolling and buffeting down that steep hillside, which happily at that point was not precipitous. Then something struck her sharply on the side and stopped her farther progress. She did not faint, though the pain in her side gripped her breath for a moment. For all her delicate ethereal appearance, she was a strong girl, and, like many timid people, found courage when a disaster had really happened. She could not move. She was pinned down among the short, stiff branches of a th.o.r.n.y shrub; but she screamed again as loud as she could--not a scream of terror, but a call for help. Then she lay and listened. All about her there was no sound but the rustling murmur of the leaves and the tiny, mysterious noises of the little creatures of the night whose realm she had invaded. Now and again she tried to move and disentangle herself from the strong branches that held her; but they pressed her down, the thorns pinned her clothes, and her bruised side ached with every movement--and she was forced to lie still again and listen for some sound of the jampannis, who must surely be looking for her.

Presently, on the road above, there sounded, very faint and far off, the tramp of shod feet. She called again, and the tramp quickened to a run, and a man's voice shouted in the distance: "Hullo! Hullo!"

As the steps came nearer above her, she cried again: "Help! I am here--down the _kudd_."

In the leafy stillness her shrill young voice rang far and clear.

"Where are you?" came the answering voice.

"Down the _kudd_."

The steps stopped on the road above.

"Are you there?" the voice called. "I see something white glimmering."

"I am here," she answered; then, as the bushes crackled above her, she called a warning: "It is very steep. Be careful."

Very slowly and cautiously the steps came down the steep side of the _kudd_ to an accompaniment of rolling stones and cras.h.i.+ng and tearing branches, and now and then a muttered exclamation. Then she was aware of a white face glimmering out of the darkness.

"Are you there?" said the voice again, quite close to her.

"Yes, I am here, but I cannot move; the branches hold me down."

"Wait a moment. I will get a light."

She was lying on her back, and, turning her head a little, she could see a match struck and the face it illuminated--a strong, dark, clean-shaven face; a close-cropped, dark, uncovered head. The match was held over her for a moment, then it went out.

"I see where you are," said the rescuer, "we must try to get you out.

Are you hurt?"

"I have hurt my side, I think," she said.

Without more words he knelt down beside her and began to tear away and loosen the short, st.u.r.dy branches; then he took her under the shoulders, and drew her slowly along the ground. There was a great rending and tearing in every direction of her delicate garments; but at last she was free of the clinging thorns and branches.

"I am afraid the thorns have scratched you a good deal," he said in a very matter-of-fact voice. "Will you try if you can stand up now? Lean on me."

Elma scrambled to her feet, and stood leaning against him--a glimmering, ghostly figure, whose tattered garments were happily hidden by the darkness.

"Do you think you can manage to climb back to the road now?" he asked; "there may be snakes about here, you know."

"I will try," said Elma.

"I will go first," he said. "You had better hold on to my coat, I think.

That will leave my hands free to pull us up."

Very slowly and laboriously they clambered back again to the road above; there was no sign of the jampannis, and the jampan itself had gone over the _kudd_ and was no more to be seen.

They sat down exhausted on the rising bank on the other side of the road.

"How did you get here?" he asked.

"My jampan went over the side, down the precipice," said Elma, "and I am afraid those poor jampannis must have been killed."

The stranger laughed long and loud, and Elma, in the reaction of her relief, laughed too.

"I have not the slightest idea what you are laughing at," she said.

"You have not been long in this country?" he asked.

"Why?"

"You do not know the jampanni. As soon as the jampan tilted they let go, and directly they saw you had gone over they ran away. Killed! Well, that is likely! I daresay they will come back here presently to pick up the pieces, when they have got over their panic: they are not really bad-hearted, you know. We will wait a little while and see."

There was silence between them for a few peaceful moments; then Elma said gently, "I thank you with all my heart."

"Oh, not at all!" said the stranger politely.

They both laughed again, young, heart-whole, clear laughter, that echoed strangely on those world-old hills.

"Words are very inadequate," said Elma presently.

"Oh, one understands all right without words," said he; "but where is the rest of your party, I wonder? I suppose you were not alone?"

"Mother has gone to a dinner-party," she answered. "Oh dear, what ought I to do? She will be so frightened! She is waiting for me. I must get some one to go and tell her I am all right. How could I sit here and forget how frightened she will be when I don't come!"

"We had better wait a little longer, I think," he said. "You cannot walk just yet, can you?"