The Man who Paid

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 322, 5 April 1928, Page 5

The Man who Paid

By

Pierre Costello

Author of ** A Sinner in Israel,'• Tainted Lives,” The Money Master,” Etc.. Etc.

CHAPTER XXVI.— (Continued). — THE RETURN TO THE HILLS. He tied the rope round her and then round himself. From this point onwards they needed caution. He led up the rocks, pointing out the hand and foot holds to her from above. She was really a surprisingly sure-footed and agile climber. Today she was in her element. She had no sense of fear. Her head was perfectly steady. She went scrambling lightly up, like a mountain goat, as he told her presently. They reached the summit. The mountain was higher than any of its neighbours, and isolated, as well, so that the view was glorious. Lakes lay like sheets of silver here and there'. The Sulpice camp looked no bigger than a beehive, seen across the valley. The cattle on the lower slopes of the hills were like mice. They were up aloft, sharing the region of the skies only with the young

eagle who still flapped about in his slow, steady, relentless flight. They sat for a long time, silent for the most part, busy with their own thoughts. Suddenly Rivett exclaimed: “Good gracious, we’ve been here an hour! We must be getting on. Look —there are clouds coming up there. That’s a bad quarter. And the wind has changed. We may get some rain yet. We’ve a long way to go. I think I'd better tie you up again, Grace. There are one or two places down here that are rather nasty.” They were going down the further side of Tarygg Knob, to a deep gap between the mountain and the next one which formed a pass back into the valley. About three miles down the valley the mules would be waiting for them. “It is after two o’clock,” Rivett murmured, “and we have a good hour and a-half down to the pass.” They went down. This time he led the way the length of the rope and steadied hiJlself while she came down after him. “My feet are wonderful to-day!” she informed him. “I feel as if I could

walk oil air. I’ve never been in such splendid form before. I don’t mind looking down heights or anything.” As she dropped lightly beside him from a steep and slippery rock, she looked at him a little anxiously. “Norman, you’re very pale. Is anything the matter?” “No,” he answered. “But I think we’d better hurry a little. The clouds are right over us.” “So they are. And I do declare I felt a spot of rain just then. What a nuisance! Let’s hurry by all means. I’m quite able to.” They descended rapidly about 50 feet, and then, crossing a narrow, horizontal ledge, reached a deep crack in the mountain, nowhere more than six feet wide and filled with loose stones, and here and there with a large boulder protruding, which had to be overcome or turned before one could descend any further. ‘This is the nasty bit,” Rivett said. He swung himself into the crack, scrambled down and disappeared over the first projecting rock, below which the crack, or gully, shelved steeply down. Suddenly, without the slightest warning, Grace heard him cry out and she was jerked off her feet and flung violently into the gully. She almost lost her senses for a few seconds; then found herself banging against a rock, and at th£ same time experienced a terrible sensation of strain, as if something was pulling at her, some dead weight that she could not resist. There was complete silence. “Norman, where are you?” she called feebly. His answer seemed to come from a long way off. “I’m jammed on a ledge, Grace. I can’t move. It’s that cursed left foot of mine given way.” Her heart seemed to come up and pound in her throat. “Norman, are you in danger? Are you in a safe place?” “I don’t know.” “What’s underneath you?” “Nothing—as far as I can see. It goes down very sheer. I think we’re just above what they call the ‘Witches* Soup Plate,’ a big hole that you have to avoid in getting down.” His voice struck terror to her heart.

“Can I climb down to you?” she asked. 1 “No, no, you couldn’t,” came the i answer. It sounded faint. “Where’s € the rope, Grace? It’s holding me i up.” 1 “It’s got fixed round a jagged rock here above this big block. Oh, Nor- 1 man I know you are in danger! I must try to get to you.” * “No,” he answered. “Stay -where you are and call for help.” She called and called and called. The empty sky echoed her voice. The 1 wind was blowing strongly. “Norman, are you in pain?” “No, Grace, no. And you?” “I’m safe enough, but the rope is pulling at me.” Suddenly the signi- j cance of this flashed across her mind. “Norman,” she cried in a panic, “do you mean that the rope is holding you up? That if it gave way, you would fall?” ; “I’m afraid so. I can’t move. I’m jammed right against the rock. But this ledge wouldn’t hold me alone. It must be the rope.” ; She was sick, as she began to realise the awful danger. She knew what 1 an expert he was. If he looked upon his own position as hopeless, it must be indeed. He was a lion in courage, and strong as a steel wire. He must be injured. “Norman, is your foot bad? Are you hurt anywhere?” she asked tremulously. #f “No, no—it’s nothing to speak of,’ he answered. “It’s being jammed like this! Go on shouting, Grace, go on shouting!”

She did so, but who was there to hear? There might be a few farmers in the valley, but the wind was strong enough to drown her voice. The mules, when they came, would be at j least three miles away. “Norman,” she asked, “if you fell, how far would it be?” “Into the valley, I should think,” he answered. “You would be killed! Norman, I shall go mad. Can I do nothing?” “Absolutely nothing. If you move, | the rope will go. But don’t you feel ; that you are bearing my w'eight?” As a matter of fact, the pull on her ; slender body was getting almost unbearable, but she answered stoically: j | “No, no! Oh, if I could only do ■ something!” j He shouted for help, but, to her-j I horror, his voice sounded feeble. She : was half-kneeling, half-lying against I the great boulder that completely hid ‘ everything from her sight. Around her were fantastic rocks on either side of the grim gully. She felt as if she j were in some dreadful giant’s cave,

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where the life was being pressed out of her by iron hands. There was a dreadful silence. She did not know how long it lacted. “Grace,” Rivett asked, and his voice was decidedly feebler; “look—is the lope wearing through at all?” “I don’t think so,” she said, examining it. And then, to her horror, she saw that it was being frayed slightly by the strain put upon it. At the same moment she felt a sickening jerk at the other end. “Norman!” she cried. “I’m trying to move,” he answered. “No, I can’t! I’ve made it worse. There’s nothing to be done.” His voice filled her with despair. Time passed. She talked; she chat- ; tered about nothing to encourage him. ; At first he answered, then he fell into silence. She was half dead with the strain: her temples throbbed and hammered. She felt as if her head . would burst. The pain under her arms was intolerable. At last Rivett’s voice came very low and faint. i “Grace, I don’t think I can stay long like this. I think I’m slipping. I Untie yourself. If I fall, I rnay pull you with me.” “Norman, if I untie myself you’ll fall —there’d be nothing to hold you." (To be continued.)