The Top of the World by Ethel May Dell (best book club books for discussion TXT) 📕

feels so--good."
He glanced up at the brazen sky. "You wouldn't say so if you wanted rain as badly as I do," he observed. "We haven't had nearly enough this season. But I am glad you can enjoy it."
"I like it more and more," said Sylvia. She stretched an arm towards the wide veldt all about them. "I am simply aching for a gallop over that--a gallop in the very early morning, and to see the sun rise from that knoll!"
"That's a _kopje_," said Burke.
Again half-unconsciously his eyes dwelt upon her vivid face. She seemed to draw his look almost in spite of him. He set down the basket by her side.
"Am I to unpack?" said Sylvia.
He dropped his eyes. "No. I will. It isn't much of a feed; only enough to keep us from starvation. Tell me some more about yourself! Tell me about your people--your home!"
"Have you never heard of me before?" she asked. "Did--Guy--never speak of me?"
"I knew there was someone." Burke spoke rather unwillingly. "I don't think he ever actually spoke of you to me. We're not exactly--kindred spirits, he and I."
"You don't like him," said Sylvia.
"Nor he me," said Burke Ranger.
She looked at him with her candid eyes. "I don't think you are very tolerant of weakness, are you?" she said gently.
"I don't know," he said non-committally. "Won't you tell me about yourself?"
The subject of Guy was obviously distasteful to him, yet her whole life during the past five years had been so closely linked to the thought of that absent lover of hers that it was impossible to speak of the one without the other. She told him all without reservation, feeling in a fashion that it was his right to know.
He listened gravely, without comment, until she ended, when he made one brief observation. "And so you chose the deep sea!"
"Could I have done anything else?" she said. "Would you have done anything else?"
"Probably not," he said. "But a man is better equipped to fight the undercurrents!"
"You think I was very rash?" she questioned.
He smiled. "One doesn't look for caution in a girl. I think your father deserved a horsewhipping, for letting you go."
"He couldn't prevent me," said Sylvia quickly.
"Pshaw!" said Burke Ranger.
"You're very rude," she protested.
His smile became a laugh. "I could have prevented you," he said.
She flushed. "Indeed you couldn't! I am not a namby-pamby miss. I go my own way. I----"
She broke off suddenly. Burke's eyes, grey as steel in his sun-tanned face, were upon her. He looked amused at her vehemence.
"Well?" he said encouragingly. "Finish!"
She laughed in spite of herself. "No, I shan't say any more. I never argue with the superior male. I just--go my own way, that's all."
"From which I gather that you are not particularly partial to the superior male," said Burke.
"I hate the species," said Sylvia with simplicity.
"Except when it kneels at your feet," he suggested, looking ironical.
"No, I want to kick it then," she said.
"You seem difficult to please," he observed.
Sylvia looked out across the _veldt_. "I like a man to be just a jolly comrade," she said. "If he can't be that, I've no use for him."
"I see," said Burke slowly. "That's to be my _role_, is it?"
She turned to him impulsively with extended hand. "I think you can fill it if you try."
He took the hand, grasping it strongly. "All right. I'll try," he said.
"You don't mind?" she said half-wistfully. "You see, it makes such a difference to feel there's someone like that to turn to in trouble--someone who won't let you down."
"I shan't let you down," said Burke.
Her fingers closed hard on his. "You're a brick," she said. "Now let's have some lunch, and then, if you don't mind, I'm going to sleep!"
"Best thing you can do," said Burke.
They rested for the greater part of the afternoon in the shadow of their boulder. Sylvia lay with her head on a light rug that he spread for her, and he sat with his back to the rock and smoked with eyes fixed straight before him.
Sleep came to the girl very quickly for she was tired, and her healthy young body was swift to find repose. But the man, watching beside her, did not even doze. He scarcely varied his position throughout his vigil, scarcely glanced at the figure nestled in the long grass so close to him. But his attitude had the alertness of the man on guard, and his brown face was set in grimly resolute lines. It gave no indication whatever of that which was passing in his mind.


CHAPTER IX
THE ARRIVAL

It was drawing towards evening when Sylvia at length stirred, stretched, and opened her eyes. A momentary bewilderment showed in them, then with a smile she saw and recognized her companion.
She sat up quickly. "I must have been asleep for ages. Why didn't you wake me?"
"I didn't want to," he said.
She looked at him. "What have you been doing? Have you been asleep?"
He raised his shoulders to the first question. To the second he replied merely, "No."
"Why didn't you smoke?" she asked next.
For an instant he looked half-ashamed, then very briefly, "I don't live on tobacco," he said.
"How very silly of you!" said Sylvia. "It wouldn't have disturbed me in the least. I smoke cigarettes myself."
Burke said nothing. After a moment he got to his feet.
"Time to go?" she said.
"Yes. I think we ought to be moving. We have some miles to go yet. You sit still while I get the horses in!"
But Sylvia was on her feet. "No. I'm coming to help. I like to do things. Isn't it hot? Do you think there will be a storm?"
He looked up at the sky. "No, not yet. It'll take some time to break. Are you afraid of storms?"
"Of course not!" said Sylvia.
He smiled at her prompt rejoinder. "Not afraid of anything?" he suggested.
She smiled back. "Not often anyway. And I hope I don't behave like a muff even when I am."
"I shouldn't think that very likely," he observed.
They put in the horses, and started again across the veldt. The burning air that blew over the hot earth was like a blast from a furnace. Over the far hills the clouds hung low and menacing, A mighty storm seemed to be brewing somewhere on the further side of those distant heights.
"It is as if someone had lighted a great fire just out of sight," said Sylvia. "Is it often like this?"
"Very often," said Burke.
"How wonderful!" she said.
They drove on rapidly, and as they went, the brooding cloud-curtain seemed to advance to meet them, spreading ominously across the sky as if it were indeed the smoke from some immense conflagration.
Sylvia became silent, awed by the spectacle.
All about them the veldt took on a leaden hue. The sun still shone; but vaguely, as if through smoked glass. The heat seemed to increase.
Sylvia sat rapt. She did not for some time wake to the fact that Burke was urging the horses, and only when they stretched themselves out to gallop in response to his curt command did she rouse from her contemplation to throw him a startled glance. He was leaning slightly forward, and the look On his face sent a curious thrill through her. It was the look of a man braced to utmost effort. His eyes were fixed steadily straight ahead, marking the road they travelled. His driving was a marvel of skill and confidence. The girl by his side forgot to watch the storm in front of them in her admiration of his ability. It was to her the most amazing exhibition of strength and adroitness combined that she had ever witnessed. The wild enjoyment of that drive was fixed in her memory for all time.
At the end of half-an-hour's rapid travelling a great darkness had begun to envelope them, and obscurity so pall-like that even near objects were seen as it were through a dark veil.
Burke broke his long silence. "Only two miles more!"
She answered him exultantly. "I could go on for ever!"
They seemed to fly on the wings of the wind those last two miles. She fancied that they had turned off the track and were racing over the grass, but the darkness was such that she could discern nothing with any certainty. At last there came a heavy jolting that flung her against Burke's shoulder, and on the top of it a frightful flash and explosion that made her think the earth had rent asunder under their feet.
Half-stunned and wholly blinded, she covered her face, crouching down almost against the foot-board of the cart, while the dreadful echoes rolled away.
Then again came Burke's voice, brief yet amazingly reassuring. "Get down and run in! It's all right."
She realized that they had come to a standstill, and mechanically she raised herself to obey him.
As she groped for the step, he grasped her arm. "Get on to the _stoep_! There's going to be rain. I'll be with you in a second."
She thanked him, and found herself on the ground. A man in front of her was calling out unintelligibly, and somewhere under cover a woman's voice was uplifted in shrill tones of dismay. This latter sound made her think of the chattering of an indignant monkey, so shrill was it and so incessant.
A dark pile of building stood before her, and she blundered towards it, not seeing in the least where she was going. The next moment she kicked against some steps, and sprawled headlong.
Someone--Burke--uttered an oath behind her, and she heard him leap to the ground. She made a sharp effort to rise, and cried out with a sudden pain in her right knee that rendered her for an instant powerless. Then she felt his hands upon her, beneath her. He lifted her bodily and bore her upwards.
She was still half-dazed when he set her down in a chair. She held fast to his arm. "Please stay with me just a moment--just a moment!" she besought him incoherently.
He stayed, very steady and quiet beside her. "Are you hurt?" he asked her.
She fought with herself, but could not answer him. A ridiculous desire to dissolve into tears possessed her. She gripped his arm with both hands, saying no word.
"Stick to it!" he said.
"I--I'm an awful idiot!" she managed to articulate.
"No, you're not. You're a brave girl," he said. "I was a fool not to warn you. I forgot you didn't know your way. Did you hurt yourself when you fell?"
"My knee--a little," she said. "It'll be all right directly." She released his arm. "Thank you. I'm better now. Oh, what is that? Rain?"
"Yes, rain," he said.
It began like the rushing of a thousand wings, sweeping irresistibly down from the hills. It swelled into a pandemonium of sound that was unlike anything she had ever heard. It