FACING A MOUNTAIN LION
As Teddy Manley rolled and tumbled down the incline, sudden stabs of
searing, burning pain shot through his body. There was one thought
paramount in his mind--that he must stop himself soon or be dashed
to death on the rocks below. His fingers sought to grasp some solid
object, that he might cling to it; but with a sob the boy realized
that there was nothing here to seize except loose stones which
mocked his efforts by falling upon him in an avalanche.
The thought came to him that perhaps this was the end--that he had
escaped all the other dangers of life, only to be killed,
ignominiously, so it seemed to him, by a fall down a mountain side.
Strangely enough, he could look at this picture with clear
imagination, even while his arms were pressing vainly the earth as
he shot downward. Never, it seemed, had he been able to think so
clearly. Flash, his pony, where was he now? Teddy hoped whoever had
him would treat him well. He deserved it. Flash was a good bronc.
None better. If only Roy hadn’t-- That small tree just below--reach
out and grab it--hold on--hold on--
With a breath-taking jolt, Teddy hit the tree and clutched
desperately at its slim trunk. For a second that seemed an eternity,
he clung there, hoping. Then a sharp crack, the tree gave way, and
Teddy slid down, down--
Below him a ledge of rock stuck its ugly lip out into space. Nice
drop, that--must be thirty feet. Those gray things at the bottom
must be boulders. Which one would he hit? Ah--h--
For one terrible moment Teddy hung on the edge. Then a swift
drop--and night closed about him with velvet wings.
How long he had lain there unconscious, Teddy never learned. He
opened his eyes upon a sky ripped and torn by red lightning flashes.
Idly he lay on his back, staring upward at the unusual spectacle of
a thunder storm without thunder or rain, and with red lightning
instead of white. Queer, that! He’d have to tell Roy about it. Where
was Roy, by the way? He’d enjoy this. He always did like sunsets and
such things. Poetry, too! Funny fellow. Reading books of verses!
Like mom, maybe. She used to be a school teacher. Denver, or some
place like that. Jimminy, look at that streak of fire! All the way
across the sky! Watch for the next one, now. Why, was the storm
over? Certainly there were no more lightning flashes. Seemed to be
clearing up. Wow, what a headache!
With a supreme effort that caused a wave of pain that almost
overpowered him, Teddy struggled to a sitting position. He looked
around him in a puzzled manner, trying hard to adjust his mind to
the scene about him. The sky was as blue as it always was, and there
was no sign of a storm. The red flashes had disappeared. In the
west, the sun, a huge ball of fire, was casting a radiance on the
forest below. It was nearly evening.
Teddy shook his head to clear it, then pressed his hand to his lips
to keep back a cry of agony. He must not give in. But, for a moment,
the boy fell back upon the rock, breathing hard.
When he raised himself again the searing sensations at the back of
his head had turned to dull, aching pain. Gingerly, the boy moved
first one leg, and then the other. They seemed all right. Neither of
his arms was broken. Taking a deep breath, Teddy determined to
stand. It was easy--just bend one leg under him, lean on his elbow,
and push upward. Then his head would have to come along, no matter
how much it wanted to lie quietly on the cool rocks. Now--one, two,
three! He was up!
Wondering how long his legs would support him, Teddy leaned weakly
against a wall of rock. Steady, now! He’d have to figure this thing
out. Here he was in a prison of rock. On three sides there arose the
bare, hard granite. The front of this rocky cubicle was open, and
Teddy staggered to the edge and looked over. Below him yawned a
sheer drop of two or three hundred feet. Now the question was, how
in thunder did he get here?
He had fallen, that was one sure thing. No doubt about that, Teddy
thought, as he looked ruefully at his torn clothes and bruised and
bleeding hands. But how did he get so sliced up? A fall would never
have done that. The fall could have caused that cut on his head, but
not these rents in his clothes. Why, he looked as though he’d been
put through a meat-chopper.
If his head would stop whirling for a moment he might be able to
figure this out! Think, now. Thirsty--yes, he was thirsty. Awfully
thirsty. He must find some water. A spring. A spring! Why, he was
looking for a spring! That’s what happened! He and Roy were thirsty,
so they separated, trying to find that spring! Then that slide!
A shudder passed over Teddy’s body. Memory returned with a rush, and
with it came desperate realization. He was trapped here, alone, and
he had no way to tell Roy and the others where he was! Suppose they
never found him? Suppose the horse he had fallen from wandered far
off and misled the others in their search? Teddy gave a shiver. Then
he straightened up. Have to cut that out. He had been in worse fixes
than this, and he always had gotten out all right. He would this
time, too. Dad and Roy would surely find him. If he only had some
water! He was burning up.
He put his hand to his head and brought it away covered with a dark,
sticky substance. Blood! No wonder it ached so. He’d have to find
some water and bathe it.
Over to the right was some sort of a depression in the rock. Perhaps
there was water there! Hope surging high within him, the ranch boy
staggered toward the spot and, with a cry of joy, flung himself face
downward beside a pool of sparkling water. He buried his face in it,
and drank in great gulps.
The point of saturation being reached, Teddy stopped, and, tearing a
piece from his shirt, soaked it in the water and bathed his head.
The coolness felt wonderfully soothing, and, much refreshed, the boy
arose and considered matters. The situation seemed not half so
desperate as it had been before he had found the spring.
True, night was approaching and the pangs of hunger were becoming
more severe.
“Yet if one has water, one can go for a number of days without
food,” the boy murmured. “And I feel sure that help will come before
long.”
Up to this point the boy had refrained from calling, both from a
feeling of weakness and the thought that it would do little good.
Now, however, he raised his head and sent a yell echoing up into the
stillness. He waited tensely for an answer. None came, and, after a
moment, he shouted again. But his head was beginning to whirl, and
he was compelled to sit down for a moment.
“Can’t afford to do much of that,” he said grimly to himself.
A thought came to him, and he drew his revolver, which, luckily, was
still in the holster at his side. He pointed it aloft and was about
to pull the trigger when he hesitated. Then, with a gesture of
despair, he shoved the gun back into the holster. He could not waste
the ammunition. If night caught him here, it was probable that he
would need all his bullets for defense against the animals which
might seek out that spring. They would not wantonly attack him, he
knew, but if they thought he was trying to keep them from water,
they might attempt to make an onset on him. The animals were all of
the cat family, but Teddy had seen some huge mountain lions in that
section. They could easily kill a defenseless man if they were so
minded.
Feeling much stronger now, Teddy proceeded thoroughly to investigate
his “prison.” If there were a means of escape, it would be well to
find it before night settled, otherwise he would have to wait until
morning. He could take no chances on climbing up a cliff in the
dark, especially in his weakened condition.
First he threw himself on his face at the edge of the cliff and
peered down. That way was closed to him--the rock was as smooth as a
shingled roof and it would be worse than folly to attempt a descent.
There was but one thing left--to climb up, if he could, and regain
the ledge from which he had fallen.
At first glance, this seemed as hopeless as it would be to climb
down. But Teddy, born and reared in this country, knew that though
often these crags appear insurmountable they are not really so, for
by clinging to the vines which grow on them and getting a foothold
in small depressions worn by the action of the elements, one can
sometimes reach the top. Certainly, it was dangerous. Yet, Teddy
thought, he had just fallen from the very height he wished to
conquer. And, with a grim smile, he murmured:
“What’s one fall more or less between friends?”
Taking another long drink from the spring, Teddy began his tour of
inspection. The red of the sky had deepened to orange, and the boy
knew that at the most, he had but an hour of daylight left. If he
were going to make the attempt, now was the time.
Tightening his belt, the boy walked over to the rocky wall. Here the
vines seemed heaviest, and Teddy experimented by seizing one of the
creepers and resting his weight on it. There was a crackling of wood
as it pulled away from the side of the cliff, but it held, and Teddy
determined to take the chance.
He was just about to draw himself up when a noise behind him caused
him to hesitate. He did not immediately look around, for he was held
in that sort of helpless panic one feels when he realizes there is
something behind which one dreads to face. Hands upraised, clutching
the vine, Teddy stood motionless. But he must look behind him. He
had that queer feeling that he was not alone--that some one or
something was standing on the rocky floor, watching him.
Suddenly, desperately, he jerked his head around. Then his face
blanched. Not ten feet from him, tail lashing angrily, was one of
the largest mountain lions he had ever seen!