Denis Dent: A Novel. Hornung Ernest William

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      This lad Doherty was the first person in Australia to learn the fate of the North Foreland, and the first to discredit the wild finish of the wild man's talk.

      "Why, there's stairs right down," he cried. "Over two hundred on 'em, cut in the sandstone."

      "What a silly lie," sighed Denis.

      "Did you sample the caves?"

      "One of them."

      "Which one?"

      "The one with the big mouth."

      "Don't you tell me you never went into the other! It's a nat'ral chimbley at the fur end, and the boss had it shoved right through, and steps cut in the sandstone for bathing."

      The sailor's bloodstains were cracking in a ghastly grin.

      "So that won't do, old man," added Mr. Doherty, severely.

      "Will these?"

      And Denis lifted one naked foot after the other; the left sole showed a purple bruise, the right a gash that still dripped as he held it up.

      Mr. Doherty supposed that he must be the liar, but only allowed himself to look confounded for the moment; the next, he was emptying his water-bag, from which Denis had already enjoyed a deep pull, over the wounds. The sheep had scattered right and left, but the horse stood apparently fast asleep in the sun.

      "Now up you jump," said Doherty. "He's as quiet as a cow."

      Denis stared at him.

      "Jump up? What for?"

      "You're within a mile of the homestead. You struck the right track on top."

      "Oh, but I'm not going on," said Denis hastily. "I must go back to – her."

      "With them feet and without your tucker?"

      And the lean brown lad stood with his bare arms akimbo, a stained statue in a flannel shirt and moleskins.

      "At once," said Denis. "I've wasted time enough; and if there are stairs there's no difficulty. Go you back to the homestead, and tell them to send down everything they can think of for a young lady. Food and clothes; mind, she hasn't had a bite since dinner yesterday."

      The young Australian doffed his wide-awake with a sweep.

      "Why, mister!" he got out, but that was all. "I'm sorry I didn't call you 'mister' before," he added, after the stare of an idolater. "I'll never leave it out again!"

      Denis was limping along only a few minutes later when the sound of a gallop made him look round for the rider who had just left him; and the same horse it was, but a different horseman, for whom the stirrups were grotesquely short. In a few seconds he had bobbed and bounded into a blue-eyed man with fair beard blowing and tanned face filled with humane distress.

      "Get on this horse," he cried, flinging himself off. "If you don't, I'll carry you myself! There – let me give you a hand; my name's Kitto; this is my run. Everything's following in the buggy, but here's a biscuit to begin on; the beds will be made and aired by the time we get you both back. But only two of you – only two!"

      Mr. Kitto had a heart of gold, and wore it on his sleeve; rarer still was a tact almost incongruous in that desolate spot. Not a question had Denis to answer as the horse ambled under him and the squatter strode alongside. But when they came to the mouth of a long stair tunneled through the soft sandstone, it was Mr. Kitto who looked curiously at the rude steep steps.

      "Nobody has come up here," said he. "We had a dust-storm yesterday before the wind went round, and the sand on these top steps is as it drifted."

      Denis could afford to smile.

      "So you didn't believe it either."

      "What's that? I could believe the side of a house of you, my brave fellow!" cried Mr. Kitto. "I only mean that your companion hasn't found her way up in your absence."

      "Ah, if she could!" sighed Denis. "But she is so weak I am afraid we shall have to carry her up between us."

      The squatter smiled, but said nothing.

      "If only she is no weaker – if only she has slept right through!" Denis went on, and repeated himself all the way down; but at the base he button-holed his guide.

      "Do I look very awful, sir? Is my face as bad as my hands? Wait a bit, then – stay where you are."

      And his injured feet could still dance him down to the water's edge; but he came stealing back, one index finger to his lips, signing with the other to Mr. Kitto to let him go first; and the smile on the cleansed face told that good man a tale.

      The mouth of the greater cave was just as Denis had left it. He crept on all fours between the table legs, and listened. There was no sound. He leaped up and looked over.

      The cave was empty.

       CHAPTER IV

      LOST AND FOUND

      Mr. Kitto saw the ragged figure shoot from the cave as though propelled by some unseen power within; and for one second he imagined the worst. He was relieved when the shipwrecked sailor raised his voice.

      "Nan! Nan!" he yelled. "Miss Merridew! Miss Merridew! Nan! Nan! Nan!"

      The squatter, running up, alone interrupted him.

      "She's gone!" cried Denis in terrible excitement. "Gone clean away – God knows where! Look for yourself, if you like; with the sun pouring in you can see to the very end. Do you think I would miss her if it were ten times the size? See, there's where I left her lying; that was all the pillow I could give her; you can almost see the shape of her head!"

      And the hoarse voice broke piteously; but such a firm, kind hand had him by the arm, that Denis bit his lips and blinked the tears back to their source.

      "Come, now," said Kitto, "there's nothing wonderful in this; the only wonder is that we didn't expect it. Why should she have slept so much longer than you? She had done far less; and they are tougher than you think. She would wake up and find you flown – "

      "Poor Nan! Poor Nan!"

      "And having the vitality she must have, to say nothing of the pluck, you wouldn't expect her to sit still and wait, would you?"

      "I suppose not," said Denis, gloomily. "I only know I would have died to save her what she must have gone through alone – alone."

      "You have done your best to die for her," retorted Mr. Kitto, with his kind smile. "Were her people on board with her?"

      "Her father, yes; she has no one else."

      "Then you may have to live for her," the older man said gravely. "So don't commit any more of your follies, and above all don't make yourself ill without a cause. She is probably trying to find her own way to the station, and it's safe to be the wrong way."

      "But you said no one had been up those stairs."

      Mr. Kitto stood confounded in the sun.

      "She may be about the beach somewhere," he said СКАЧАТЬ