The Vast Abyss Part 93

CHAPTER FIFTY ONE.

"Where is he?" cried Uncle Richard. "Yes, I see!"

The words brought Tom back to himself, and he was as active again as the rest, his strange seizure having lasted only a few moments.

"Heaven grant that we are not too late!" said the Vicar. "Here, Tom, you had better keep the dog back."

"But you are sure some one is buried here?" said Uncle Richard.

"Yes; it is Pete Warboys--he has a kind of cave here. It's crushed in,"

Tom hastened to explain.

"If we try to dig him out we shall suffocate him," cried Uncle Richard, speaking as if he had no doubt of the boy living still. "Look here, carpenter--David, there is only one way: three of us must be here with a rope fastened to this great root, and three others must work at a branch yonder. We shall have great leverage then, and we may be able to turn the trunk right over."

"Want a screw-jack, sir," said the carpenter.

"We must make screw-jacks of ourselves," cried Uncle Richard. "You, David, take the axe and lop off a few of the branches that will be in our way; you, carpenter, saw off three or four of these roots as closely as you can; Tom, keep the hole open; Mr Maxted, keep the dog out of the way; I'll make fast the ropes."

Every one went to work at once as Uncle Richard fell back into his old way when he was a planter with a couple of hundred coolies under him, and acre after acre of primeval forest to clear before he could begin to cultivate the ground.

Then the dog barked furiously for a few moments, but at a word from Tom crouched panting with its tongue out and ears p.r.i.c.ked, evidently satisfied with the efforts being made to release its master. The strokes of the axe fell thick and fast, the saw rasped through the wood, and dust and chips flew, while the forest echoed to the sounds of busy work.

Best part of an hour's hard toil, and then one side of the tree was fairly clear; the ropes were tied to root and branch projecting at right angles, and the ends pa.s.sed round tree-trunks.

"Now then!" said Uncle Richard. "Ready?"

"Hadn't we better haul straight, sir?" cried the carpenter. "It'll give us more power."

"No," said Uncle Richard; "the pulling will be harder, but we can hold inch by inch this way, and make fast the ropes when we have turned the trunk over."

"Right, sir," said the man.

Then the word was given, and after a glance to see that the burrow was still open, Tom seized the end of the rope, to add his bit of weight, wondering the while whether they would injure the poor fellow beneath, but pretty well satisfied that they were pulling right away.

The tree creaked and moved, some smaller branches snapped, but no good was done.

"All together again," cried Uncle Richard; and they panted and hauled, but all in vain.

"Off with that rope from the branch," cried Uncle Richard.

This was done, and it was then made fast to another projecting root, so that all could pull at the one end.

Again the word was given, but there was no result, and after a couple more tries the task seemed hopeless, when Tom seized the saw, and began to cut at a piece of root which he had seen rise a little and move some sand.

"Hah, that's right," cried the Vicar; "that's a sound root, and holds the tree down."

In five minutes the saw was through, and once more all began to haul, when the great tree seemed to give, turning over slowly like a wheel, and amidst shouts and cheers, and a furious burst of barking from the dog, the ma.s.s turned more and more, till the whole tree, with its vast root, had made a complete revolution; and when the ropes had been made fast, to secure it, there was the great hollow clear, but the sand had gone down with a rush, and the burrow was covered in.

Tom did not wait for the trunk to be secured, for he had seen the result.

"Don't, boy, don't," shouted the Vicar; "the tree may come back and crush you."

"Let it!" muttered Tom between his teeth, as he dropped upon his knees, scooping away at the sand, helped now by the dog, which began to be too useful, and got in the way. All the same though, by the time the tree was fast the sand had been swept from Pete Warboys' face; and David and Uncle Richard stooping and pa.s.sing their hands beneath him, very little effort was required to draw him right out of the hole, and up among the pine-trees, where he was laid gently down, amid a profound silence, while Uncle Richard knelt beside him, and the dog, after a furious volley of barks, began to snuffle at its master's face.

"Dead?" whispered the Vicar, as Uncle Richard carefully made his examination, just as he had many a time played medicine-man or surgeon to a sick or injured coolie.

He made some answer, but it was drowned by the dog, which threw up its head and uttered a mournful howl, while a feeling of awe made those around look on in silence.

"You are in too great a hurry, my good friend," said Uncle Richard then, as he turned to the dog. "There's a little life in your master yet, but one arm is broken, and I'm afraid that he is badly crushed."

Tom drew a breath full of relief, while his uncle rose to his feet.

"I think, Maxted, if you will go on first, and warn his grandmother, and have a bed ready, and also get the doctor there, we will make a litter of a couple of poles and some fir-boughs, and carry him home. It would be better for you to go to the old woman than for Tom."

"Yes," said the Vicar, who set aside his regular quiet, sedate bearing, and ran off through the wood at a sharp trot.

"Out with your knife, Tom," cried Uncle Richard; "cut a piece three feet long off one of those ropes, and unravel it into string."

Tom set to work, while the carpenter cut off a couple of straight fir-boughs, which David trimmed quickly with the axe, and a few cross-pieces were sawn off about thirty inches long.

Then Tom stared in wonder to see how rapidly his uncle bound the short pieces of wood across the long, afterwards weaving in small pieces of the green fir, and forming a strong, fairly soft litter.

"Not the first time by many, Tom," he said. "Accidents used to be frequent in clearing forest in the East. There: that will do. Now for our patient."

He knelt down beside Pete, placed a bough of thickly-clothed fir beneath the injured arm, and then closely bound all to the boy's side.

"More harm is often done to a broken limb by letting it swing about," he said, "than by the fracture itself. Now four of us together. Pa.s.s your hands beneath him, enlace your fingers, and when I give the word, all lift."

This was done, Pete deposited upon the litter, and secured there by one of the ropes, after which he was carefully borne to his grandmother's cottage, where the doctor was already waiting, and the old woman, tramping about stick in hand, looking as if prepared to attack her visitors for bringing down mischief upon the head of her grandson.

At last, as the boy was laid upon a mattress, she began to scold at Uncle Richard, but only to be brought up short by the doctor, who sternly bade her be silent, and not interrupt him while he examined Pete and set his arm.

This silenced the poor old woman, who stood back looking on, till the doctor had finished, and gone away to fetch medicine for his patient.

"Yes," he said, "very bad, and will be worse, for in all probability he will have a sharp attack of fever, and be delirious when he recovers his speech. It is really wonderful that he is still alive."

As these words were said, Tom looked back through the open cottage door, to see Pete lying motionless upon the mattress, and the dog sitting up beside him, looking down at the still white face.

"Looking at the dog, Tom?" said the Vicar.

"Yes, sir. What a faithful beast it is."

"Splendid," said the Vicar. "And yet I've seen Pete ill-use the poor brute, and I'm afraid it was half-starved; but it does not seem to influence the dog's affection for him."

"No, sir, not a bit. There are worse things than dogs, sir."

"Yes, Tom," said the Vicar, tightening his lips, "a great deal."