A LITTLE after daylight they left the cave and descended the mountain. With Rocco leading they plunged into the first fringe of forest and by a a little toe-trail travelled swiftly, keeping high above the valley. Hugh saw nothing but the sombre pine trunks. They encountered no one and the silence was profound. Rocco spoke little. Once or twice he stopped to listen, then, seemingly satisfied, went on at the same rapid pace. At noon they made a short halt for lunch.
They were gradually descending. The sharpness of the mountain air had given way to a softer temperature, the pines had yielded to oaks. At first the oaks had been bare branched, then they were clothed with leafage. Underfoot, too, the grey had given way to brown, the brown in turn yielded to green. They were dropping through the temperate zone to the warmer one of the coast.
It was early afternoon when Rocco stopped and turned to Hugh.
“This is as far as I dare go,” said he. “I think you can manage alone. You must descend that path to the railway. You will then be about fifteen miles above Agaccio. The road almost parallels the railway. You will have to wait to travel it until the dusk, and should get to the town about nine o’clock. The boat leaves at ten. If nothing happens you should catch it. Have you any money?”
Hugh had not thought of that. He searched his pockets.
“No, they got all.”
“Take this. I have no use for money as you can see.”
He handed Hugh a note for five hundred francs.
“Oh, I can’t accept that.”
“Come now. Consider it a loan. You will repay me some day.”
“All right. But let’s sit down and have a smoke before we separate.”
They flung themselves under a tree and lit their cigarettes.
“Look here,” said Hugh suddenly, “what would you do if you had a lot of money, say three million francs.”
Rocco showed his white teeth in a derisive smile.
“What would I do with three million francs? Why, first of all I would buy my pardon; then I would go into politics again. I would devote my life to the welfare of Corsica. With all that money one could almost change the destiny of our people. Ah! what a dream....”
“I can tell you where you will find three million francs. You can take or leave them as you choose. Only let it be a secret between us.”
“That is understood,” said Rocco gravely.
Hugh described where he had hidden the money, and sketched the events which had led up to its coming into his possession. When he had finished, Rocco sat in silence; his eyes brooded sombrely, his brows below his lofty forehead knitted in thought. Hugh watched his face, that fine Roman face so full of virility and courage. Beyond a doubt he was stirred by ambitious dreams. Hugh was reminded of Napoleon. Might this, too, not be a man of destiny? Suddenly Rocco roused himself.
“I do not know. It needs reflection. It is too stupendous. I may take the money and use it for my country; but if I do not, you will be sure it will remain there untouched, perhaps forever.... But now you must be on your way. You have far to go; see, already the sun is declining. You must reach the Agaccio road before dusk, and then hurry, hurry to the boat. And now good-bye. Good luck to you.”
“Good-bye. I’ll never forget you.”
The two men shook hands with a long grip. As Hugh turned on the downward trail, he looked back at the tall, graceful figure of Rocco, standing erect with folded arms. He waved his hand and Rocco took off his broad-brimmed hat. Then a turn of the trail parted them forever.
It seemed to Hugh that he must have taken a wrong turning, for the trail, which had been growing less and less defined, suddenly disappeared. He was lost in the forest. Night was approaching. However, by keeping on down the hill, he must eventually come to either the road or the railway. He struck into a brisker pace, and, as there was no underbrush, made rapid progress. He had been descending for perhaps half an hour, when he heard a welcome sound, the whistle of a train. A little further on the forest lifted, and the line of railway lay below him.
Less than a kilometre away, was the station; a freight train laden with logs was drawing ponderously out. He decided to let it pass, before continuing down the track. He waited impatiently. It had occurred to him that perhaps he was exposing himself too much; and he was drawing back when he heard a shout, ... a shout of fury and of triumph.
With a heart leap of fear he recognized the three men who were hunting him. What ghastly misfortune! They were on horseback too. Castelli, who had been searching the hillside with a pair of powerful glasses, had been the one to discover him. He handed the glasses to Doctor Bergius and pointed to Hugh. At the same instant Gamba leaped from his horse, crossed the railway track and launched in pursuit.
For a dazed moment Hugh cursed his folly in thus exposing himself, then turned and crashed back into the brush. It was very thick and he made progress with difficulty. At this rate he would surely be caught. Then to his joy, he came upon a little trail that descended and skirted the railway. He raced along it.
Once with panting lungs he stopped to listen. Was he being followed? He heard a cracking of underbrush; Gamba had taken a short cut and was appallingly near. Hugh tore on again. The trail broke from the forest and skirted a bluff that overhung the railway, running along it for about three hundred yards. As Hugh came out on this exposed stretch his heart sank. Here at last he was surely trapped. To his right was the steep cut to the railway, to the left the dense brush of the forest. The only way of escape was straight ahead. If only he could make the end of the pathway before Gamba reached him.... Well, he must do his best.
He had gone but a short distance when Gamba crashed into the open. The little man was as fleet as a deer, as sure-footed as a goat. Hugh knew he had no chance; but with the strength of despair he pounded on. There was a roaring in his ears. The train! It was puffing and clanking below him. Gamba was gaining on him fast. As he dashed on, Hugh noticed that the bluff dipped, so that in one place it was only about ten feet above the track. If he could make this gap, leap the track and reach the gully that lay on the other side, there was a chance he might yet escape. He made a desperate spurt to gain it.
But he had reckoned without the train. As he got to the lowest point of the cut, it was passing just below him. Again luck was against him. He must wait until all those heavy wagons had lumbered by. Gamba was only fifty yards behind him. Oh, that cursed train! Would it never pass! But why wait? Why not ... ah! that was an idea. Desperate, maybe, but he would stick at nothing.... Nerving himself he leaped, and fell sprawling on the train.
Fortunately he landed between two huge logs. He was bruised and shaken, but he raised himself immediately. He had alighted about midway in the line of wagons and there were three others still to pass the place from which he had jumped. Now one had passed, then the second, then, just as the third and last wagon was rumbling by Gamba reached the point.
He hesitated, stared for a moment as if confused, then caught sight of Hugh. He looked down at the last of the passing wagons. Was he, too, going to jump? Hugh held his breath. No, Gamba could not make it. That little moment of hesitation had been fatal; even as he crouched to spring, the last wagon rolled from beneath him.
Hugh heard a yell of anger. As if dumbfounded, Gamba stood on the point of rock shaking his fists in impotent rage at the train carelessly lumbering on its way.
It grew dark quite suddenly. Hugh heard the puffing of the engine, and saw a cloud of steam with an under-glow of orange. In spite of his bruises he was feeling extravagantly happy. How lucky to have jumped on the train! At the rate they were going he would be in Agaccio in an hour. He breathed freely now. Freedom, safety lay ahead. Soon, very soon, he would be on the boat for Marseilles. Then ho! for Paris.... What was the matter? They were slowing up.
Yes, they were stopping at a station. He hoped it would not be a long stop. In any case he must be well ahead of his pursuers by now ... that is, if they had not given up the pursuit. There in the dusk he lay between the two great logs, and once more congratulated himself on his escape. The air was rich with the perfume of pines, and the stars were like glow-worms in the fields of heaven.
Hark! What was that? He was horribly nervous. As he strained his ears, he fancied he heard the distant beat of galloping hoofs. They came nearer. He heard them drumming on the road that ran beside the railway track. He might have known it; his enemies were racing to cut him off. Had they arrived at the station before the train, they could have easily captured him. What an escape! And now they were drawing closer. When they got too close, he would take to the forest. Then the awful nerve-racking hunt would begin again.
In imagination he saw them, spurring and lashing their horses, straining every nerve to reach the station before the train pulled out. Would it never start? The drumming hoofs sounded very near indeed. The engine-driver lighted his pipe, and made some joking remark to the station master. At last, he turned and jumped up to his cab. Thank God! the train was in motion.
It cleared the station and gathered speed, plunging once more into the forest. And not a moment too soon! Hugh looked back to see three horsemen dash into the light, leap from their horses and run forward. Too late!...
A few miles further on the train came to another halt. Perhaps it was imagination, but Hugh thought he heard again the sound of furious galloping. He heaved a sigh of relief when once more they were under way.
Soon the lights of Agaccio appeared and the train slowed up. Hugh jumped down and made for the harbour. With a thrill of joy he boarded the steamer, and, going forward, mingled with a crowd of garlic-flavoured Corsicans.
When the boat cleared and blew her whistle it sounded to him like a hoarse bellow of triumph. As she stood out to sea he looked back at the lights of the harbour. He fancied he still heard the galloping of exhausted horses, and the curses of three maddened men. Perhaps they were there now, standing on the wharf, gazing in rage and despair after the departing steamer. He hoped they were.
“Corsica, farewell!” he cried. “As long as I live I’ll never set foot on your shores again. I’m free, free once more. And now for Paris ... Margot....”