ON THE BRINK.
Meanwhile young Edwards found himself a stirring actor in a stirring
series of events.
He set out with all the ardor of a young hunter to bring down the bear,
which was the most enormous one he had ever seen in the Kentucky wilds.
His fondness for his jovial companion led him to give him what seemed to
be the best chance to secure him; and it may be said that, had the
situations of the youths been reversed, bruin would have quickly fallen
a victim to the prowess of the young Kentuckian. But fate made a turn of
the wheel of fortune of which neither dreamed.
Wharton Edwards possessed wonderful fleetness of foot, and counted on no
trouble in running down the lumbering beast; but when he struck the
point where he ought to have been visible, he was not in sight.
The acute hearing of the youth, however, told him where the bear was
plunging through the undergrowth. It was in the direction of the stream,
and fearful that he would escape him altogether, Wharton took up the
pursuit with all the energy at his command.
The momentary pause had given the bear an advantage which he used with a
sagacity worthy of a more intelligent creature than he. Without turning
to the right or left, he swung ponderously along until he reached the
edge of the torrent, into which he tumbled like a rock falling down the
side of a mountain.
"I've got you now!" was the exultant exclamation of the youth, who
reached the point where bruin had disappeared within ten seconds
afterwards.
An exasperating state of affairs confronted him. The high, rocky bluff
on each side of the swift current shut out all view of the water within
two or three yards of the side on which the spectator happened to stand.
Whether instinct led the bear to adopt the course he did is uncertain,
but it is hardly credible, since his species are well known to be
stupid; but, be that as it may, this specimen, instead of making for the
other bank, kept so near to the one from which he had leaped that young
Edwards could not see him. The only way in which he could gain a view of
him was by lying down on his face and peering over.
He had no time to do this, besides which, under the circumstances, it
was almost impossible to gain a shot at the swimming bear.
The presumption was that he would make for the other bank in quest of
some opening by which to leave the water, but Wharton, in his eagerness,
was unwilling to count upon that.
"If I were upon the other side," was his thought, as he hurried
nervously along the bluff, seeking to keep pace with the rushing
current, "I would have him just where I wanted him. But I shall lose
him, for there is no way to get across--yes there is, and I'll do it,
sure as a gun."
A hundred yards below, and quite near the falls, the bluffs approached
each other so closely that he was sure he could leap from one to the
other. Thus in a bound he could place himself in the best position to
shoot the game against which he began to feel a resentment because of
the manner in which it baffled him.
Had young Edwards been more familiar with his immediate surroundings, or
less enthusiastic in his pursuit of the prize, he would have hesitated,
and, adopting the good old adage, looked before he leaped; but he was
carried away by the excitement of the moment, and did that which no one
would have been quicker than he, under other circumstances, to condemn.
Running rapidly along the bluff, and parallel with the course of the
stream, he reached the narrow portion upon which he had fixed his eye,
gave it a glance, and decided that by no great effort he could leap to
the corresponding bluff on the opposite side.
And beyond a doubt he would have succeeded had he used only ordinary
precaution, but he was in dread lest the bear should escape him. The
falls were but a short way below, and though the raging waters were
likely to finish him, that of itself would spoil everything. No hunter
likes to see another take his game out of his hands, and he viewed such
a loss through the falls in the same light. His blood was up, and he
meant to secure the animal if it was "in the wood."
Stepping hastily back for a couple of paces, he gathered himself, ran
the distance, and, concentrating his strength in the effort, leaped
toward the opposite bluff.
The instant he left the ledge he saw to his horror that he was going to
fall. A leaper or runner always feels what is coming before the crisis
is upon him, and Wharton Edwards knew he had made an awful
miscalculation.
With the desperation of despair he flung his rifle from him at the
instant of leaping, and when it was too late to withdraw. It landed on
the rocks, and the impact of the hammer caused its discharge, the ball,
by a singular concurrence of circumstances, passing within a few inches
of the owner's face.
It was only for a passing breath that the youth was in the air, but it
seemed to him he was held suspended for several minutes over the raging
waters. He struck only a few inches short, but those few inches were
fatal. His chest and lower part of the body collided violently with the
solid wall, and his hands were thrown over the surface on which he had
hoped and expected to place his feet.
He clutched fiercely to save himself, and had there been anything to
grasp must have succeeded; but there was nothing, and, rebounding fully
a foot, he went down into the torrent twenty feet below. As if fate
meant to dally with and mock him, he splashed within a few feet of the
bear, who, with a snuff of fear, turned away and began a wild effort to
swim against the current. The brute had become aware of the roaring
falls close at hand, and saw the trap in which he was caught, and from
which it was impossible to extricate himself until, as may be said, he
was almost on the brink of the falls.
A short distance from the plunge was a gap in the bluff, where the
ground was only a few inches above the surface of the water. If the
brute should hold himself close to the bank on that side until this
favoring point was reached, he could save himself.
And he did, though little credit belonged to him for the feat. Like the
stupid creature that he was, he continued furiously striving to swim
against the current, and without stemming it in the least; but the same
blind instinct kept him clawing at the rocks on the side from which he
had leaped, and thus held him in the only position which gave the
slightest hope.
All at once the beam-like claws struck the rocky bottom. The water
quickly shallowed. By a prodigious effort he checked his swift downward
progress--then he secured a foothold--his massive, shaggy body heaved up
from the water--he plunged heavily to one side, and, with another mighty
putting forth of his strength, walked out upon the solid earth and was
safe.
Beyond peradventure, Wharton Edwards would have done equally well had
the opportunity been given him to study for a few seconds his perilous
surroundings. He would have been quick to see the opening through which
his intended prize escaped, and the gorge was so narrow that he could
readily have swam across to it in the few moments at his command; but
the youth was in a hapless situation.
He landed against the bluff with such violence that the breath was
driven from his body, and when he struck the water he was senseless. The
rush of the chilling current, as he shot below the surface, partly
revived him, and he made an instinctive effort at self-preservation. The
blow, however, had been severe, and his brain was in a whirl the next
moment, the torrent carrying him with great swiftness toward the falls.
Larry Murphy was closer to the stream than he had supposed, while
reloading his rifle. The report of his friend's rifle gave him the
necessary guidance, and he dashed over the intervening distance at the
top of his speed.
A minute later he peered over the bluff, and, without seeing the bear,
which was almost beneath him, saw the head and shoulders of his friend,
who had come to the surface a few seconds before.
"Ye blundering spalpeen, that's no place to go in swimming!" called the
frightened youth, with no suspicion of the mishap that had occurred.
Undecided what to do, and yet unable to stand idle, Larry ran along the
edge of the bluff, and a minute later saw to his amazement the bear
emerge and shake his dripping coat. It would have been easy to shoot him
down, for there could not have been a fairer target; but the youth had
no thought of bagging game in those terrible moments, and he bestowed
hardly a glance at the brute.
A second look at young Edwards told him that something was wrong.
"Swim toward me!" shouted Larry, loud enough for his clear voice to be
heard above the thunder of the waters.
He had bounded headlong down the sloping bluff, and then off into the
open low space, which offered the only hope. It was a high leap, but in
his excitement he did not notice it.
"Swim hard, ould felly, or it'll be too late--hivin save me, but he's
drowning!"
Wharton's head was dipping below the surface, and his arms had ceased
the feeble struggles they made a short time before. The youth was really
drowning.
He was now so nearly opposite the opening in the bluff, and so near the
plunge of waters, that had he been in the full possession of his senses
and strength he could have swam the space, brief as it was, only by the
most desperate efforts. In his senseless condition he could not
accomplish it, of course, had he been in water as still as a mill pond.
Larry Murphy saw and comprehended all this in the twinkling of an eye.
He knew that if he stood where he was it would be to see his loved
friend die, and if he plunged in after him both would go over the falls,
with possibly one chance in a thousand of their escape.
And did he, while quickly weighing the chances, hesitate?