The Red Rat's Daughter by Guy Boothby (best books to read for self improvement TXT) 📖

offer to land on the island, and to make his way into the interior in the hope of being able to render some assistance should it be necessary.

"Well, you know your own business best," said Jimmy Foote to Browne, when the latter had informed him of the discovery he had made. "But I can't say that I altogether like the arrangement. If he had guessed our secret, why didn't he let us know that he knew it? It seems to me that there is a little bit of underhand work somewhere."

"I think you are misjudging him," returned Browne; "upon my word I do. Of one thing there can be no sort of doubt, and that is, that whatever he may have known, he is most anxious to help."

"Is he?" exclaimed Jimmy, in a tone that showed that he was still more than a little sceptical concerning Maas's good intentions. "I don't set up to be much of a prophet; but I am willing to go so far as to offer to lay a hundred pounds to a halfpenny, that we shall find he has been hoodwinking us somewhere before we've done."

Jimmy spoke with such unusual gravity that Browne looked at him in surprise. "Oh, you may look," answered Jimmy; "but you won't stare away what I think. Browne, old man," he continued, "you and I were at school together; we have been pals for a very long time; and I'm not going to see you, just when you're booked to settle down happily with your wife, and become a respectable member of society, upset and spoil everything by a foolish action."

"Thank you, Jimmy," said Browne. "I know you mean well by me; but, at the same time, you must not let your liking for me make you unjust to other people. Maas has proved himself my friend, and I should be mean indeed if I ventured to doubt him."

"All right," replied Jimmy; "go your way. I'll say no more."

That evening Browne realized his long-felt wish. He and Katherine promenaded the deck together, as the yacht sped on its way, across the seas, towards their goal, and talked for hours together of their hopes and aspirations. When at last she and Madame Bernstein bade the gentlemen good-night, the latter adjourned to the smoking-room to discuss their plan of action. Maas had been evidently thinking the matter over, for he was prepared with one or two new suggestions, which struck the company as being eminently satisfactory. So sincere was he, and so anxious to be of service, that when at last they bade each other good-night, and he had retired below, Jimmy turned to Browne, who was standing beside the bulwark, and said:--

"Jack, old boy, I believe, after all, that I've done that man an injustice. I _do_ think now that he is really anxious to do what he can."

"I'm glad indeed to hear you say so," Browne rejoined; "for I'm sure he is most anxious to be of use. Forgive me if I was a bit sharp to you this afternoon. I cannot tell you how grateful I feel to you for all your kindness."

"Fiddlesticks!" muttered Jimmy. "There's no talk of kindness between us."

Fourteen days after leaving Yokohama, and a little before sunset, those on board the yacht caught their first glimpse of the Russian island, of which they had come in search. At first it was scarcely discernible; then, little by little, it grew larger, until its steep and abrupt rocks could be distinctly seen, with a far-away line of distant mountain-peaks, stretching to the northward.

Katharine, Madame Bernstein, and the three young men were upon the bridge at the time. Browne, who held his sweetheart's hand, could feel her trembling. Madame Bernstein appeared by far the most excited of the group. Advanced though the time of year was, the air was bitterly cold. But, for once in a way, the Yezo Strait, usually so foggy, was now devoid even of a vestige of vapour. The season was a late one, and for some hours they had been passing packs of drift ice; but as they closed up on the land it could be seen lying in thick stacks along the shore.

"That is Cape Siretoko," said Browne. "It is the most southerly point of Saghalien."


CHAPTER XXV


Three weeks had elapsed since that memorable afternoon, when the party on board the yacht, had obtained their first glimpse of the island of Saghalien. In pursuance of the plan MacAndrew had revealed to him in Hong-kong, Browne had left his companions upon the vessel, and for upwards of forty-eight hours had domiciled himself in a small log-hut on the northern side of the Bay of Kroptskoi, awaiting news of the man whom they had come so far, and undertaken so much, to rescue. It was the night of full moon, and the scene which Browne had before him, as he stood, wrapped up in his furs, outside the door of the hut, was as miserable as a man could well desire to become acquainted with. The settlement, as I have said, was located at the northern end of a small bay, and had once consisted of upwards of six huts, built upon a slight eminence, having at its foot a river still ice-bound. At the back rose a still more precipitous hill, densely clothed with _taiga_, or forest. So impenetrable, indeed, was it, that even the wolf and bear found a difficulty in making their way through it. To the right, and almost unobservable from the huts, was a track that once connected with the coal-mines of Dui, but was now overgrown and scarcely to be distinguished from the virgin forest on either side.

On this particular evening, Browne was the reverse of easy in his mind. He had left the yacht buoyed up by the knowledge that in so doing he was best serving the woman he loved. It had been arranged with MacAndrew that they should meet at this hut, not later than the thirteenth day of that particular month. This, however, was the evening of the fifteenth, and still neither MacAndrew, nor the man they were endeavouring to rescue, had put in an appearance. Apart from every consideration of danger, it was far from being the sort of place a man would choose in which to spend his leisure. The hut was draughty and bitterly cold; the scenery was entirely uninviting; he had no one to speak to; he had to do everything--even his cooking--for himself; while, away out in the bay, the ice chinked and rattled together continually, as if to remind him of his miserable position. It was nearly nine o'clock, and he could very well guess what they were doing on board the yacht. His guests would be in the drawing-room. Katharine would be playing one of those soft German folk-songs, of which she was so fond, and most probably thinking of himself; Madame Bernstein would be knitting in an easy-chair beside the stove; while the gentlemen would be listening to the music, and wondering how long it would be, before they would be at liberty to retire to the smoking-room and their cigars. He could picture the soft electric light falling on a certain plain gold ring on Katherine's finger, and upon the stones of a bracelet upon her slender wrist. Taken altogether, he did not remember to have felt so home-sick in his life before. As if to add to his sensation of melancholy, while he was pursuing this miserable train of thought, a wolf commenced to howl dismally in the forest behind him. This was the climax. Unable to bear any more, he retired into the hut, bolted the door, and, wrapping himself up in his blanket, laid himself down upon his bed and was soon asleep. When he looked out upon the world next morning he found himself confronted with a dense fog, which obscured everything--the forest behind him, the ice-girdled shore in front, and, indeed, all his world. It is, of course, possible that, in this world of ours, there may be places with more unpleasant climates than Saghalien, but it would be difficult to find them. On the west coast the foggy and rainy days average two hundred and fifty-three out of every three hundred and sixty-five, and even then the inhabitants are afraid to complain, lest it might be worse with them. As Browne reflected upon these things, he understood something of what the life of Katherine's father in this dreadful place must be. Seeing that it was hopeless to venture out, and believing that it was impossible the men he expected could put in an appearance on such a day, Browne retired into his hut, and, having closed the door carefully, stirred up the fire, and, seating himself before it, lit a cigar. He had another day's weary waiting before him. Fortunately, when his boat had brought him ashore from the yacht, it had also brought him an ample supply of provisions and such other things, as would help to make life bearable in such a place. On the rough table in the centre of the hut were arranged a collection of books of travel and adventure, and, since he did not pretend to be a blue-stocking, a good half-dozen novels, yellow-back and otherwise. One of the latter, a story by Miss Braddon, he remembered purchasing at the Dover bookstall the day he had returned from Paris with Maas. As he recalled the circumstances he could see again the eager, bustling crowd upon the platform, the porters in their dingy uniforms, the bright lamps around the bookstalls, and the cheery clerk who had handed the novel to him, with a remark about the weather. How different was his position now! He opened the book and tried to interest himself in it; the effort, however, was in vain. Do what he would, he could not rivet his attention upon the story. The perilous adventures of the hero in the forests of Upper Canada only served to remind him of his own unenviable position. Little by little the sentences ran into each other; at length his cigar dropped from his fingers, his head fell forward, and he was fast asleep. How long he slept it would be impossible to tell, but when he rose again and went to the door the fog had drawn off, darkness had fallen, and the brilliant northern stars were shining in the firmament above. Once more his hopes had proved futile. Another day had passed, and still he had received no news of the fugitives. How long was this to go on? Feeling hungry, he shut the door and set about preparing his evening meal. Taking a large piece of drift-wood from the heap in the corner, he placed it upon the fire, and soon the flame went roaring merrily up the chimney. He had made his tea, and was in the act of opening one of his cans of preserved meat, when a sound reached him from outside, and caused him to stop suddenly and glance round, as if in expectation of hearing something further. It certainly sounded like the step of some one who was carefully approaching the hut. Who could it be? The nearest civilization was the township of Dui, which was upwards of a hundred versts away. He had been warned, also, that the forest was in