She bent forward again and pulled the horses to the right, and as they obeyed her, plunging and tugging at their bits, as though they knew the danger they were in, the men threw themselves at the carriage.Clay caught the hood at the back, swung himself up, and scrambled over the cushions and up to the box seat.He dropped down behind Hope, and reaching his arms around her took the reins in one hand, and with the other forced her down to her knees upon the footboard, so that, as she knelt, his arms and body protected her from the bullets sent after them.Langham followed Clay, and tumbled into the carriage over the hood at the back, but MacWilliams endeavored to vault in from the step, and missing his footing fell under the hind wheel, so that the weight of the carriage passed over him, and his head was buried for an instant in the sand.But he was on his feet again before they had noticed that he was down, and as he jumped for the hood, Langham caught him by the collar of his coat and dragged him into the seat, panting and gasping, and rubbing the sand from his mouth and nostrils.Clay turned the carriage at a right angle through the heavy sand, and still standing with Hope crouched at his knees, he raced back to the woods into the face of the firing, with the boys behind him answering it from each side of the carriage, so that the horses leaped forward in a frenzy of terror, and dashing through the woods, passed into the first road that opened before them.
The road into which they had turned was narrow, but level, and ran through a forest of banana palms that bent and swayed above them.Langham and MacWilliams still knelt in the rear seat of the carriage, watching the road on the chance of possible pursuit.
``Give me some cartridges,'' said Langham.``My belt is empty.
What road is this?''
``It is a private road, I should say, through somebody's banana plantation.But it must cross the main road somewhere.It doesn't matter, we're all right now.I mean to take it easy.''
MacWilliams turned on his back and stretched out his legs on the seat opposite.
``Where do you suppose those men sprang from? Were they following us all the time?''
``Perhaps, or else that message got over the wire before we cut it, and they've been lying in wait for us.They were probably watching King and his sailors for the last hour or so, but they didn't want him.They wanted her and the money.It was pretty exciting, wasn't it? How's your shoulder?''
``It's a little stiff, thank you,'' said Langham.He stood up and by peering over the hood could just see the top of Clay's sombrero rising above it where he sat on the back seat.
``You and Hope all right up there, Clay?'' he asked.
The top of the sombrero moved slightly, and Langham took it as a sign that all was well.He dropped back into his seat beside MacWilliams, and they both breathed a long sigh of relief and content.Langham's wounded arm was the one nearest MacWilliams, and the latter parted the torn sleeve and examined the furrow across the shoulder with unconcealed envy.
``I am afraid it won't leave a scar,'' he said, sympathetically.
``Won't it?'' asked Langham, in some concern.
The horses had dropped into a walk, and the beauty of the moonlit night put its spell upon the two boys, and the rustling of the great leaves above their heads stilled and quieted them so that they unconsciously spoke in whispers.
Clay had not moved since the horses turned of their own accord into the valley of the palms.He no longer feared pursuit nor any interruption to their further progress.His only sensation was one of utter thankfulness that they were all well out of it, and that Hope had been the one who had helped them in their trouble, and his dearest thought was that, whether she wished or not, he owed his safety, and possibly his life, to her.
She still crouched between his knees upon the broad footboard, with her hands clasped in front of her, and looking ahead into the vista of soft mysterious lights and dark shadows that the moon cast upon the road.Neither of them spoke, and as the silence continued unbroken, it took a weightier significance, and at each added second of time became more full of meaning.
The horses had dropped into a tired walk, and drew them smoothly over the white road; from behind the hood came broken snatches of the boys' talk, and above their heads the heavy leaves of the palms bent and bowed as though in benediction.A warm breeze from the land filled the air with the odor of ripening fruit and pungent smells, and the silence seemed to envelop them and mark them as the only living creatures awake in the brilliant tropical night.
Hope sank slowly back, and as she did so, her shoulder touched for an instant against Clay's knee; she straightened herself and made a movement as though to rise.Her nearness to him and something in her attitude at his feet held Clay in a spell.He bent forward and laid his hand fearfully upon her shoulder, and the touch seemed to stop the blood in his veins and hushed the words upon his lips.Hope raised her head slowly as though with a great effort, and looked into his eyes.It seemed to him that he had been looking into those same eyes for centuries, as though he had always known them, and the soul that looked out of them into his.He bent his head lower, and stretching out his arms drew her to him, and the eyes did not waver.He raised her and held her close against his breast.Her eyes faltered and closed.
``Hope,'' he whispered, ``Hope.'' He stooped lower and kissed her, and his lips told her what they could not speak--and they were quite alone.
