Ross stood spellbound. He could not believe his own eyes.
That he should meet a human being in this vast waste of rock and sand and
cactus was possible. That he should find a girl chained to a rock, like a
felon of the black ages, was nothing short of incredible.
There was no denying the girl’s existence, however. She was there, and
she was in need of help.
His incredulity shattered, Ross was beside the girl in a bound. Even a
cursory glance showed her to be undeniably pretty, and it also showed her
to be quite as undeniably in a state of total exhaustion.
At Ross’s approach, the girl raised her head with difficulty. Her eyes
opened and she smiled slowly. Then her whole body suddenly fell forward
against the chains that held her. She had fainted.
No stranger situation could be imagined than the finding of a beautiful
girl chained to a rock in the midst of the great Red Desert. This,
however, was a matter for future consideration. The girl needed immediate
attention, and Ross’s first thought was to release her.
When he examined her shackles Ross realized that release was not going to
be easy. The four rings to which the chains were fastened were secured to
the canon wall by means of heavy iron staples driven deep into fissures
in the rock. A test of strength showed that nothing short of a charge of
dynamite would ever loosen them.
The chains were comparatively heavy and well forged. A file was the only
solution—and Ross did not possess a file.
Not till he examined the handcuffs did he see any hope of releasing
the girl. These were not of the ordinary type. They were not the steel
manacles of the sort used today, but were about two inches wide, heavy in
construction and made of cast iron. The locking device was old-fashioned.
They were a type of handcuff that had been obsolete for nearly three
quarters of a century.
Having satisfied himself that they were really made of cast iron, Ross
at once realized that it would be a comparatively easy task to free the
girl. Securing a small rock for a hammer, he braced the girl back against
the canon wall and held her wrist against the rock. A few well directed
blows with the improvised hammer easily cracked the rusty cast iron and
the handcuff fell away in two pieces.
The girl’s wrist had been freed without more than slightly bruising the
skin. The second handcuff was broken quite as easily. Ross gently lowered
the girl to the ground.
Releasing her ankles was more difficult. The anklets were of heavier
construction and harder to break without injuring the girl. However, by
placing a rock under the anklet and being careful, Ross finally managed
to shatter the cast iron without more than bruising the girl’s slender
ankles.
In an instant he had jerked the pack from one of the burros and spread
his blanket roll out on the ground. Picking up the unconscious girl, he
placed her on the blankets and improvised a pillow from his coat.
Almost opposite where the girl had been chained the tiny trickle of water
had formed a miniature pool in the rocks. Seizing a tin cup from his camp
outfit, Ross hurried to this pool, scooped up a cup of water, and in an
instant was kneeling at the girl’s side.
Dipping his fingers in the water, he flicked it across her face, then
carefully bathed her forehead, and then set to chafing her wrists.
It was fully ten minutes before the girl showed any evidence of returning
consciousness. Then her eyelids began to flutter. Finally she sighed
deeply, and her eyes slowly opened.
Stanley Ross thought he had never seen such a look of abject terror as
now appeared in the girl’s eyes. It was as though she had just awakened
from a terrible dream and was still laboring under its terrorizing
influence. Such a look might have appeared in the eyes of a slave girl
when Nero ruled in Rome.
For a moment, consciousness battled with that nightmare that had been
seething through the girl’s brain and finally won. Her eyes opened wide.
A half smile slowly crossed her face. Whatever might have inspired her
terror, the girl evidently recognized in Ross a friend.
Her lips, dry and parched, moved with difficulty, but Ross saw that they
framed the word “Water!”
Lifting her head, he dampened the girl’s lips from the cup and then
allowed her to drink her fill. But weakness still held sway over her
body, and she sank back on the blankets, exhausted. Her eyes closed again.
“Don’t try to talk,” advised Ross. “You just lie there and rest until I
fix something for you. Then you can tell me about this thing.”
For once in his life, Ross was glad that he had taken another man’s
advice. When he had started his desert pilgrimage an old prospector
had advised him to include a few cans of soup in his outfit. Ross had
demurred, seeing no use in packing superfluous weight, but the old desert
rat had insisted.
Ross had included the soup. So far, he had had no use for it, but now it
was to show its worth.
Collecting a few dry sticks from the stubby willows that grew around the
pool, Ross soon had a tiny fire going. Opening a can of soup, he heated
it over the fire and carried a cup of it to the girl.
“Oh, that’s so good!” she murmured after she had drained the cup. “Thank
you.”
“Do you feel like talking?” asked Ross.
For a moment the girl regarded him with frank eyes. Then she shook her
head wearily.
“Not—not just yet—please. I’m—so—tired.” She sank back onto the blankets.
Realizing that, for the present, rest was the most important thing for
her, Ross covered the girl with a blanket and set about his camp duties.
He finished unpacking his burros and turned them loose to pick at the
scanty tufts of grass that grew along the seeping stream. This done, he
set about preparing his own meal.
It was already dusk, and by the time he had cooked and eaten his supper
darkness had settled down over the little canon. Washing his few dishes
in the pool, Ross set them aside and turned his attention to finding
enough firewood to keep the fire going.
In the darkness this was somewhat of a task, and Ross was absent from the
camp for some little time. When he returned he saw that his strange guest
had evidently fallen asleep.
Ross threw some wood on the fire and sat down with his back against a
rock. Filling his pipe, he lighted it and leaned back to contemplate the
events of the afternoon and evening.
His first mental reaction on finding the girl had been one of intense
rage that any one, no matter what the cause or conditions, could be so
utterly inhuman as to perpetrate such an act. He was still angry now, but
he had cooled off to the extent that he could consider the affair calmly.
There seemed to be no off-hand explanation whatever. As far as Ross knew,
there was no human habitation in all this desert waste, yet this trail up
the little canon had been used frequently and recently, so somewhere up
the winding trail must lie a solution to the mystery. But what it could
be, or whether he could ever solve it, Ross could not imagine.
The whole affair was grotesque, bizarre. Why any one should chain a young
girl to a rock wall in the midst of a heat-scorched desert was utterly
incomprehensible. The girl was not gross or criminal-looking. On the
contrary, she was pretty, delicate, and obviously refined. Her clothes
bespoke a far different environment. How any one could be so inhuman as
to subject her to such treatment was unfathomable.
Sitting there, smoking and watching the girl, mulling the strangeness of
the affair over in his mind, Ross could offer himself no explanation. The
only thing to do, apparently, was to wait for the girl to awaken and
then wait for her to talk.
At any rate, the adventure which he had craved seemed to be at hand.
Where it would lead him he had no idea.
The fire gradually burned low. The girl slept on. Ross removed the pipe
from his mouth. His head nodded. In half an hour the campfire had wasted
to an ember.
The man’s head had sunk forward onto his breast; his body had relaxed
comfortably against its support. He, too, was asleep.
Hours crept by....
With a start, Ross awoke. The first faint glow of dawn was creeping down
into the little canon. It was morning.
Sheepishly, Ross rubbed his eyes, aware that he had allowed the healthy
fatigue of a day in the desert to conquer his senses and bring sleep when
he had intended to watch throughout the night.
Gradually the events of the evening before came back to him, and he
looked across to where he had wrapped the girl in his blankets. The bed
was empty!
_The girl was gone!_
_CHAPTER THREE_