Fred Munson was right. In his efforts to regain the pass by which he had
entered the mountains, he had gone astray, and he knew no more in what
direction to turn than if he had dropped from the moon. The sun was
now well up above the horizon, and he not only had the mortification of
feeling that he had lost much precious time, but that he was likely to
lose much more.
With the feeling of disappointment came that of hunger, and he
questioned himself as to how he was likely to obtain that with which to
stave off the pangs of hunger.
“There isn't any use of staying here,” he exclaimed, desperately,
“unless I want to lie down and die, and I ain't quite ready for that
yet. It is pretty sure the ravine ain't straight ahead, so it must be
more to one side.”
And, acting upon this conclusion, he made quite a change in the
direction he was pursuing, moving off to the left, and encouraging
himself with the fact that the pass must be somewhere, and he had only
to persevere in exploring each point of the compass to reach it at last.
His route continued as precipitous and difficult as before, and it was
not long before the plague of thirst became greater than that of hunger.
But he persevered, hopeful that his wearisome wandering would soon end.
“Halloa! Here I am again.”
This exclamation was caused by the sudden arrival upon the edge of a
ravine, which, on first thought, he supposed to be the very one for
which he was making. But a second glance convinced him of his error, for
it was nothing more than a yawn, or chasm, that had probably been opened
in the mountains by some great convulsion of nature.
Making his way carefully to the edge, Fred saw that it had a varying
depth of fifty to two hundred feet, and a width from a dozen yards to
three times as much, its length seemingly too great to be “gone round”
by an ordinary traveler. And yet, finding himself confronted by such
a chasm, it was perhaps natural that the lad should become more fully
pursuaded than ever of the absolute necessity of placing himself upon
the opposite side. The more he thought upon it the more convinced did he
become, until his desire of passing over became a wild sort of eagerness
that would not let him rest.
“I don't believe the pass is more than a hundred yards from the other
side, and the two must run nearly parallel, so I am bound to get over in
some way.”
In the hope that some narrow portion might be found, he made his way
with great care along the margin, until fully an hour had been spent in
this manner, with a result that could not be called very satisfactory.
“If I could jump about three times as far as I can, I could go across
right yonder--helloa! why did n't I notice that before?”
And the words were yet in his mouth, when he started on a run along the
margin of the ravine, at the imminent risk of falling in and breaking
his neck. He had espied not only a narrower portion of the ravine, but
what seemed to be a fallen tree extending from one side to the other.
If such were really the case, what more could he need? He had thought
over this matter of the pass being upon the other side, until no doubt
at all remained in his mind, and now the discovery that the chasm was
bridged caused the strongest rebound from discouragement to hope.
Upon reaching the bridge, he found that it answered his purpose
admirably. The width was less than ten yards, although the depth was
enough to make him shudder, when he peered down into it.
He flung a stone, and, as it went spinning downward, it seemed to him
that many seconds elapsed before it struck the bottom with a dull thud.
But the tree seemed strong enough to answer every purpose, and capable
of bearing a weight much greater than his.
The trunk at the largest part was fully a foot in diameter, and the top
extended far enough over the opposite edge to prevent any weakness from
the thinning out of the branches.
But what astonished Fred more than anything else, was the discovery that
the tree had been felled not, by nature, but by man. The trunk had been
cut through, clearly and evenly, by some sharp instrument, and beyond
question had been used as a bridge before.
“Somebody has been here ahead of me,” reflected the lad, as he examined
this interesting evidence, “and I don't believe it was an Indian,
either. I don't know what could bring a party into this part of the
world, but they have been here surely, and if the bridge was good enough
for them, it will do for me.”
He was quite certain that he could walk over, after the fashion of
Blondin, but it would have been foolhardy in the highest degree, and he
adopted the wiser course of putting himself astride of the trunk, and
hitching along a few inches at a time. His rifle interfered somewhat,
but he kept up his progress, pausing a few seconds at the centre of the
chasm to look down at the bottom far below him.
“Suppose the tree should break,” he exclaimed, in a frightened whisper,
“it would be the last of a fellow! No one could drop down there, and
save his neck without a parachute. I guess the best thing I can do is to
get over as soon as I know how--”
At this juncture, as he was on the point of resuming his onward
progress, he noticed a peculiar jar of the log, accompanied by a
scratching. Mis first impression was that it came from behind, but, upon
turning his head, could see nothing. When, however, he looked forward,
the terrible explanation at once appeared.
The head or top of the tree was unusually bushy and luxuriant, and,
although a considerable time had elapsed since it had been felled, yet
there were a great many leaves clinging to the branches--not enough to
afford concealment to any animal fleeing from a hunter. Then Fred
first looked in that direction, he failed to see that one of the most
dangerous animals of the Southwest was crouching there.
As he looked inquiringly ahead now, he observed a huge American cougar,
larger than that of the night before, issuing from among the branches.
With his phosphorescent eyes fixed upon the terrified lad, he was
stealing slowly along the log, giving utterance to a deep guttural
growl, separating his lips as he did so, so as to show his long, white,
needle-like teeth, intended for the rending of flesh.
For a moment Fred was transfixed at the sight.
The cougar clearly meant fight, and assumed the offensive without a
second's hesitancy. He seemed to have been crouching in the bushes, and
calmly awaited the time when the boy should advance too far to retreat.
“I guess I'd better go back!” exclaimed the latter, recovering himself,
and beginning his retrograde movement; but a few hitches showed that
he could not escape the cougar in this fashion, if he really meant
business, and it looked very much as if he did.
The beast had already left the other side, and, like his intended
victim, was supported over the chasm by the tree. He had advanced beyond
the fork made by the junction of the lowermost branches with the main
stem, and was stealing along with an appearance of excessive caution,
but really with the certainty of a brute who feels that there is no
escape for his prey. He moved slowly, burying his long, sharp claws so
deeply in the bark at each step, that his feet seemed to stick as he
lifted them again. All the time his large, round eyes, which had a
greenish glare like those of a cat, were never removed from the face of
the lad, and the guttural growl that came from the lowermost depths of
his chest was like the muttering of distant thunder.
It was not until about a dozen feet separated the two that Fred recalled
that his case was not so desperate as he had imagined. He held a loaded
rifle at his command, and the distance was too short for any mistake to
be made in the aim.
“I guess I'll stop _your_ fun!” was the exultant exclamation of the lad,
as he brought his rifle to his shoulder. “I don't like to throw away a
shot on you, but I don't see how it can be helped.”
He sighted directly between the eyes. His hand shook a little, and the
weapon was heavy, but it was impossible that he should miss.
The cougar continued his slow, cautious advance, apparently unaware or
uncaring for the deadly weapon aimed at him.
The distance was very slight between the two when the trigger was
pulled, and the heavy bullet, tearing its way through bone and muscle,
buried itself in the brain, extinguishing life with the suddenness
almost of the lightning stroke. The guttural growl wound up with
something like a hoarse yelp, and the cougar made what might be termed
his death-leap.
The bound was a tremendous one, carrying him clear up over the head of
the lad, who crouched down in affright, expecting him to drop upon his
shoulders; but he passed far beyond, dropping upon the trunk of the
tree, which he clutched and clawed in his blind, frantic way, without
saving himself in the least, and down he went.
Fred was held with a sort of fascination, and had turned his head
sufficiently to watch every movement of his victim. Then he started
downward, his whitish belly was turned upward, while he continued to
beat and claw the air in his death struggles.
As is the tendency of falling bodies, the carcass of the cougar showed
an inclination to revolve. It began slowly turning over as it descended,
and it must have completed several revolutions when it struck the rocky
ground below like a limp bundle of rags, and lay motionless.
The boy, from his lofty perch, watched the form below him for several
minutes, but could detect no sign of life, and rightly concluded there
was none.
“I wonder whether there are any more there,” he exclaimed, hesitating to
go backward, while he scrutinized the branches with the keenest kind of
anxiety. “I do n't see any chance where one could hide, and yet I did
n't see that other fellow.”
It was hardly possible that he should find a companion to the one he had
just slain, and he resumed his hitching forward, making it as deliberate
and careful as he could. Clutching the branches, he hurried forward
and was soon upon the other side of the chasm which had come so nigh
witnessing his death. Without pausing longer he hastened on and was not
long in placing himself upon the top of the elevation from which he was
so confident of gaining his view of the promised land, as the pass
had become to him, now that it seemed so difficult to find, and was so
necessary to anything like progress.
But another disappointment awaited him. The most careful scrutiny failed
to reveal anything like the ravine, and poor Fred was forced to the
conclusion that he was hopelessly lost, and nothing but Providence could
bring him through the labyrinth of peril in which he was entangled.