Chapter 5. A Night Of Anxiety

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_ CHAPTER FIVE. A NIGHT OF ANXIETY

I looked in the direction from which the sounds came, but there was nothing visible, save the thick white fog, and in my excitement and horror, thinking I was looking in the wrong direction, I turned sharply round.

White fog.

I looked in another direction.

White fog.

Then I seemed to lose my head altogether, and hurried here and there with my hands extended, completely astray.

It only took moments, swift moments, for all this to take place, and then I heard voices that I knew, but sounding muffled and as if a long way off.

"Cob! Where are you, Cob?"

"Here," I shouted. "I'll try and come."

"No, no!"--it was Uncle Jack who spoke--"don't stir for your life."

"But," I shouted, with my voice sounding as if I was covered with a blanket, "I want to come to you."

"Stop where you are," he cried. "I command you."

I stayed where I was, and the next moment a fresh voice cried to me, as if pitying my condition:

"Cob, lad."

"Yes," I cried.

"There is a horrible precipice. Don't stir."

It was Uncle Bob who said this to comfort me, and make me safe from running risks, but he made me turn all of a cold perspiration, and I stood there shivering, listening to the murmur of voices that came to me in a stifled way.

At last I could bear it no longer. It seemed so strange. Only a minute or two ago we were all together on the top of a great hill admiring the prospect. Now we were separated. Then all seemed open and clear, and we were looking away for miles: now I seemed shut-in by this pale white gloom that stopped my sight, and almost my hearing, while it numbed and confused my faculties in a way that I could not have felt possible.

"Uncle Jack!" I cried, as a sudden recollection came back of a cry I had heard.

"He is not here," cried Uncle Bob. "He is trying to find a way down."

"Where is Uncle Dick?"

"Hush, boy! Don't ask."

"But, uncle, I may come to you, may I not?" I cried, trembling with the dread of what had happened, for in spite of my confused state I realised now that Uncle Dick must have fallen.

"My boy," he shouted back, "I daren't say yes. The place ends here in a terrible way. We two nearly went over, and I dare not stir, for I cannot see a yard from my feet. I am on a very steep slope too."

"But where has Uncle Jack gone then?"

"Ahoy!" came from somewhere behind me, and apparently below.

"Ahoy! Uncle Jack," I yelled.

"Ahoy, boy! I want to come to you. Keep shouting _here_--_here_--_here_."

I did as he bade me, and he kept answering me, and for a minute or two he seemed to be coming nearer. Then his voice sounded more distant, and more distant still; then ceased.

"Cob, I can't hear him," came from near me out of the dense gloom. "Can you?"

"No!" I said with a shiver.

"Ahoy, Jack!" roared Uncle Bob.

"Ahoy-oy!" came from a distance in a curiously stifled way.

"Give it up till the fog clears off. Stand still."

There was no reply, and once more the terrible silence seemed to cling round me. The gloom increased, and I sank on my knees, not daring to stand now, but listening, if I may say so, with all my might.

What had happened? What was going to happen? Were we to stay there all night in the darkness, shivering with cold and damp? Only a little while ago I had been tired and hot; now I did not feel the fatigue, but was shivering with cold, and my hands and face were wet.

I wanted to call out to Uncle Bob again, but the sensation came over me--the strange, wild fancy that something had happened to him, and I dared not speak for fear of finding that it was true.

All at once as I knelt there, listening intently for the slightest sound, I fancied I heard some one breathing. Then the sound stopped. Then it came nearer, and the dense mist parted, and a figure was upon me, crawling close by me without seeing me; and crying "Uncle Bob!" I started forward and caught at him as I thought. My hands seized moist wool for a moment, and then it was jerked out of my hands, as, with a frightened _Baa_! Its wearer bounded away.

"What's that?" came from my left and below me, in the same old suffocated tone.

"A sheep," I cried, trembling with the start the creature had given me.

"Did you see which way it went?"

"Yes--beyond me."

"Then it must be safe your way, Cob. I'll try and crawl to you, lad, but I'm so unnerved I can hardly make up my mind to stir."

"Let me come to you," I cried.

"No, no! I'll try and get to you. Where are you?"

"Here," I cried.

"All right!" came back in answer; but matters did not seem all right, for Uncle Bob's voice suddenly seemed to grow more distant, and when I shouted to him my cry came back as if I had put my face against a wall and spoken within an inch or two thereof.

"I think we'd better give it up, Cob," he shouted now from somewhere quite different. "It is not safe to stir."

I did not think so, and determined to make an attempt to get to him.

For, now that I had grown a little used to the fog, it did not seem so appalling, though it had grown thicker and darker till I seemed quite shut-in.

"I'll stop where I am, Cob," came now as if from above me; "and I daresay in a short time the wind will rise."

I answered, but I felt as if I could not keep still. I had been scared by the sudden separation from my companions, but the startled feeling having passed away I did not realise the extent of our danger. In fact it seemed absurd for three strong men and a lad like me to be upset in this way by a mist.

Uncle Dick had had a fall, but I would not believe it had been serious. Perhaps he had only slipped down some long slope.

I crouched there in the darkness, straining my eyes to try and pierce the mist, and at last, unable to restrain my impatience, I began to crawl slowly on hands and knees in the direction whence my uncle's voice seemed to come.

I crept a yard at a time very carefully, feeling round with my hands before I ventured to move, and satisfying myself that the ground was solid all around.

It seemed so easy, and it was so impossible that I could come to any harm this way, that I grew more confident, and passing my hand over the rough shale chips that were spread around amongst the short grass, I began to wonder how my uncles could have been so timid, and not have made a brave effort to escape from our difficulty.

I kept on, growing more and more confident each moment in spite of the thick darkness that surrounded me, for it seemed so much easier than crouching there doing nothing for myself. But I went very cautiously, for I found I was on a steep slope, and that very little would have been required to send me sliding down.

Creep, creep, creep, a yard in two or three minutes, but still I was progressing somewhere, and even at this rate I thought that I could join either of my companions when I chose.

I had made up my mind to go a few yards further and then speak, feeling sure that I should be close to Uncle Bob, and that then we could go on together and find Uncle Jack.

I had just come to this conclusion, and was thrusting out my right hand again, when, as I tried to set it down, there was nothing there.

I drew it in sharply and set it down close to the other as I knelt, and then passed it slowly from me over the loose scraps of slaty stone to find it touch the edge of a bank that seemed to have been cut off perpendicularly, and on passing my hand over, it touched first soft turf and earth and then scrappy loose fragments of shale.

This did not startle me, for it appeared to be only a little depression in the ground, but thrusting out one foot I found that go over too, so that I knew I must be parallel with the edge of the trench or crack in the earth.

I picked up a piece of shale and threw it from me, listening for its fall, but no sound came, so I sat down with one leg over the depression and kicked with my heel to loosen a bit of the soil.

I was a couple of feet back, and as I kicked I felt the ground I sat upon quiver; then there was a loud rushing sound, and I threw myself down clinging with my hands, for a great piece of the edge right up to where I sat had given way and gone down, leaving me with my legs hanging over the edge, and but for my sudden effort I should have fallen.

"What was that?" cried a voice some distance above me.

"It is I, Uncle Bob," I panted. "Come and help me."

I heard a fierce drawing in of the breath, and then a low crawling sound, and little bits of stone seemed to be moved close by me.

"Where are you, boy?" came again.

"Here."

"Can you crawl to me? I'm close by your head."

"No," I gasped. "If I move I'm afraid I shall fall."

There was the same fierce drawing in of the breath, the crawling sound again, and a hand touched my face, passed round it, and took a tight hold of my collar.

"Lie quite still, Cob," was whispered; "I'm going to draw you up. Now!"

I felt myself dragged up suddenly, and at the same moment the earth and stones upon which I had been lying dropped from under me with a loud hissing rushing sound, and then I was lying quite still, clinging to Uncle Bob's hand, which was very wet and cold.

"How did you come there?" he said at length.

"Crawled there, trying to get to you," I said.

"And nearly went down that fearful precipice, you foolish fellow. But there: you are safe."

"I did not know it was so dangerous," I faltered.

"Dangerous!" he cried. "It is awful in this horrible darkness. The mountain seems to have been cut in half somewhere about here, and this fog confuses so that it is impossible to stir. We must wait till it blows off I think we are safe now, but I dare not try to find a better place. Dare you?"

"Not after what I have just escaped from," I said dolefully.

"Are you cold?"

"Ye-es," I said with a shiver. "It is so damp."

"Creep close to me, then," he said. "We shall keep each other warm."

We sat like that for hours, and still the fog kept as dense as ever, only that overhead there was a faint light, which grew stronger and then died out over and over again. The stillness was awful, but I had a companion, and that made my position less painful. He would not talk, though as a rule he was very bright and chatty; now he would only say, "Wait and see;" and we waited.

The change came, after those long terrible hours of anxiety, like magic. One moment it was thick darkness; the next I felt, as it were, a feather brush across my cheek.

"Did you feel that?" I said quickly.

"Feel what, Cob?"

"Something breathing against us?"

"No--yes!" he cried joyfully. "It was the wind."

The same touch came again, but stronger. There was light above our heads. I could dimly see my companion, and then a cloud that looked white and strange in the moonlight was gliding slowly away from us over what seemed to be a vast black chasm whose edge was only a few yards away.

It was wonderful how quickly that mist departed and went skimming away into the distance, as if a great curtain were being drawn, leaving the sky sparkling with stars and the moon shining bright and clear.

"You see now the danger from which you escaped?" said Uncle Bob with a shudder.

"Yes," I said; "but did--do you think--"

He looked at me without answering, and just then there came from behind us a loud "Ahoy!"

"Ahoy!" shouted back Uncle Bob; and as we turned in the direction of the cry we could see Uncle Jack waving his white handkerchief to us, and we were soon after by his side.

They gripped hands without a word as they met, and then after a short silence Uncle Jack said:

"We had better get on and descend on the other, side."

"But Uncle Dick!" I cried impetuously; "are you not going to search for Uncle Dick?"

The brothers turned upon me quite fiercely, but neither of them spoke; and for the next hour we went stumbling on down the steep slope of the great hill, trying to keep to the sheep-tracks, which showed pretty plainly in the moonlight, but every now and then we went astray.

My uncles were wonderfully quiet, but they kept steadily on; and I did not like to break their communings, and so trudged behind them, noting that they kept as near as seemed practicable to the place where the mountain ended in a precipice; and now after some walking I could look back and see that the moon was shining full upon the face of the hill, which looked grey and as if one end had been dug right away.

On we went silently and with a settled determined aim, about which no one spoke, but perhaps thought all the more.

I know that I thought so much about the end of our quest that I kept shuddering as I trudged on, with sore feet, feeling that in a short time we should be turning sharp round to our left so as to get to the foot of the great precipice, where the hill had been gnawed away by time, and where the loose earth still kept shivering down.

It was as I expected; we turned sharp off to the left and were soon walking with our faces towards the grey-looking face, that at first looked high, but, as we went on, towered up more and more till the height seemed terrific.

It was a weary heart-rending walk before we reached the hill-like slope where the loose shaley rock and earth was ever falling to add to the _debris_ up which we climbed.

"There's no telling exactly where he must have come over," said Uncle Jack, after we had searched about some time, expecting moment by moment to come upon the insensible form of our companion. "We must spread out more."

For we neither of us would own to the possibility of Uncle Dick being killed. For my part I imagined that he would have a broken leg, perhaps, or a sprained ankle. If he had fallen head-first he might have put out his shoulder or broken his collar-bone. I would not imagine anything worse.

The moon was not so clear now, for fleecy clouds began to sail across it and made the search more difficult, as we clambered on over the shale, which in the steepest parts gave way under our feet. But I determinedly climbed on, sure that if I got very high up I should be able to look down and see where Uncle Dick was lying.

To this end I toiled higher and higher, till I could fairly consider that I was touching the face of the mountain where the slope of _debris_ began; and I now found that the precipice sloped too, being anything but perpendicular.

"Can you see him, Cob?" cried Uncle Jack from below.

"No," I said despondently.

"Stay where you are," he cried again, "quite still."

That was impossible, for where I stood the shale was so small and loose that I was sliding down slowly; but I made very little noise, and just then Uncle Jack uttered a tremendous--

"Dick, ahoy!"

There was a pause and he shouted again:

"Dick, ahoy!"

"Ahoy!" came back faintly from somewhere a long way off.

"There he is!" I cried.

"No--an echo," said Uncle Jack. "Ahoy!"

"Ahoy!" came back.

"There, you see--an echo."

"Ahoy!" came again.

"That's no echo," cried Uncle Bob joyfully. "Dick!"

He shouted as loudly as he could.

"Ahoy!"

"There! It was no echo. He's all right; and after falling down here he has worked his way out and round the other side, where we went up first, while we came down the other way and missed him."

"Dick, ahoy!" he shouted again; "where away?"

"Ahoy!" came back, and we had to consult.

"If we go up one way to meet him he will come down the other," said Uncle Bob. "There's nothing for it but to wait till morning or divide, and one of us go up one side while the other two go up the other."

Uncle Jack snapped his watch-case down after examining the face by the pale light of the moon.

"Two o'clock," he said, throwing himself on the loose shale. "Ten minutes ago, when we were in doubt, I felt as if I could go on for hours with the search. Now I know that poor old Dick is alive I can't walk another yard."

I had slipped and scrambled down to him now, and Uncle Bob turned to me.

"How are you, Cob?" he said.

"The skin is off one of my heels, and I have a blister on my big toe."

"And I'm dead beat," said Uncle Bob, sinking down. "You're right, Jack, we must have a rest. Let's wait till it's light. It will be broad day by four o'clock, and we can signal to him which way to come."

I nestled down close to him, relieved in mind and body, and I was just thinking that though scraps of slaty stone and brashy earth were not good things for stuffing a feather-bed, they were, all the same, very comfortable for a weary person to lie upon, when I felt a hand laid upon my shoulder, and opening my eyes found the sun shining brightly and Uncle Dick looking down in my face.

"Have I been asleep?" I said confusedly.

"Four hours, Cob," said Uncle Jack. "You lay down at two. It is now six."

"But I dreamed something about you, Uncle Dick," I said confusedly. "I thought you were lost."

"Well, not exactly lost, Cob," he said; "but I slipped over that tremendous slope up yonder, and came down with a rush, stunning myself and making a lot of bruises that are very sore. I must have come down a terrible distance, and I lay, I suppose, for a couple of hours before I could get up and try to make my way back."

"But you are not--not broken," I cried, now thoroughly awake and holding his hand.

"No, Cob," he said smiling; "not broken, but starving and very faint."

A three miles' walk took us to where we obtained a very hearty breakfast, and here the farmer willingly drove us to the nearest station, from whence by a roundabout way we journeyed back to Arrowfield, and found the landlady in conference with Mr Tomplin, who had come to our place on receiving a message from Mrs Stephenson that we had gone down to the works and not returned, her impression being that the men had drowned us all in the dam. _

Read next: Chapter 6. "Do Let Me Come"

Read previous: Chapter 4. Our Engine

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