IN THE GORGE
They went up the bank of the river afoot after luncheon. Ledger walked
with Aunt Winnie, explaining as they went the scheme of changing the
river’s course. The young folk ran on ahead.
They came to a narrow reef of rock which hemmed in the river on this
westerly side. On the left hand they looked down into a deep gorge.
Here, by blowing out the rock-wall which was not more than ten yards
across, the river would plunge into the gorge which cut through the
plateau toward the south.
This was the natural channel that had been spoken of. At the mouth of
the gorge, the foreman said, a dam could be built at a comparatively
small expense, which would hold an enormous amount of water in reserve.
The tentative agreement between Colonel Hardin and the Desert people
included the building of this dam at the expense of the subscribers for
the water. The intention was to dig a great ditch from the mouth of the
gorge across the plain, with branch ditches and gates for the farmers,
the main ditch carrying the water to the outskirts of Desert City.
There a pumping station was to be established and the water piped into
the town. The irrigation work and all would occupy at least two years,
and cost a good deal of money, but the result, as Tavia had suggested,
would be to “make the desert blossom like the rose.”
Mrs. White would travel no farther than this reef at the head of the
gorge, but the young folk were bent upon a real exploring expedition.
She gave her consent for them to go on, and Ned and Nat found a path
which led down the nigh bank of the deep hollow.
The trees that had struck root into this rocky soil were scrubby
looking things and there were not many of them, but there was a deal of
brush and briers.
“Suppose this was an old Indian path?” proposed Nat to his brother,
when they were at the bottom of the steep descent.
“More likely made by wild animals,” was the reply.
“Whew!” exclaimed Nat, his eyes twinkling. “Maybe it leads to a bear’s
den.”
“Now stop, Nat White!” commanded Tavia. “You are trying to scare us.”
[Illustration: OUT OF THE CREVICE PROTRUDED THE UPPER LENGTH OF A
RATTLESNAKE. _Dorothy Dale in the West Page 150_]
“Don’t listen to him, Tavia,” said Dorothy. “There are no wild animals
near here. Mr. Ledger didn’t even bring a gun.”
“It’s supposed to be a game preserve, isn’t it?” demanded Nat. “And
aren’t bears game?”
“If you should see one you’d be the bear’s game,” sniffed Dorothy.
“You’d run.”
“Sure I would,” admitted Nat. “I’d rather a good deal folks would say
of me, ‘See him run!’ than ‘Here he lies.’”
“I suppose there _are_ some wild beasts deeper in these hills--and on
Colonel Hardin’s property,” Ned said, thoughtfully.
“What kind of beasts?” demanded Tavia, sharply.
“Oh--bears, and wolves, and panthers, and the like.”
“That’s enough!” declared Tavia, stopping short. “I’ve gone far enough.
Let’s climb up again, Doro.”
“But I want to see what the gulch looks like,” objected Dorothy, who
had little belief in Nat’s wild animal scare.
“’Fraid-cat!” sing-songed Nat, grinning.
“No. I’ve gone far enough. I’m tired,” said Tavia, decisively. “I’m
going to sit right down here on this rock. I’ll wait for you if a wild
bear doesn’t come along and chase me back up the hill.”
“Wild bear, your grandmother!” said Nat, with disgust.
“Come on, Dot,” Ned said to his cousin. “I’m glad you haven’t lost your
pluck.”
“You’ll lose more than that if you see a bear,” advised Tavia.
“I don’t believe there’s a thing to hurt us in this place, and I want
to see,” repeated Dorothy Dale.
The trio went on, but they did not really believe Tavia would remain
far behind them. “She’s up to some trick,” Nat announced.
“I believe you’re right,” agreed Dorothy, but when they had gone at
least half a mile down the gorge, and the irrepressible Tavia had not
overtaken them, Dorothy began frequently to look back.
“_What_ do you suppose she is doing?” she repeated, greatly puzzled.
“Oh, she is up to something. You know Tavia,” responded Ned, carelessly.
At last Dorothy said: “I’m going back. I am worried about Tavia.”
“Nonsense!” cried Nat. “She’s gone back to join mother, I bet you.”
“Betting never proved anything yet, little boy,” laughed Dorothy. “You
boys can go on if you like. But it’s no fun without Tavia.”
She started back briskly; the boys started more slowly. “Huh!” grunted
Nat, “Tavia isn’t often a ‘spoil sport.’ I don’t see what’s gotten
into her to-day.”
Dorothy did not run, but she lost no time and was some distance ahead
of her cousins when she came in sight of the rocks where Tavia had
seated herself.
Her chum was still there. When Dorothy shouted to her Tavia did not
look her way. The rock was a low, flat-topped boulder with a crack
across the middle of it. Tavia seemed to be looking at something before
her on the rock.
“What have you found there, Tavia?” cried Dorothy. “It must be
something tremendously interesting.”
Still her chum did not move--nor make reply. As though she were posing
for her picture, the young girl sat motionless. Dorothy could not see
her face at the angle from which she was advancing. But something about
Tavia’s attitude finally startled her.
“What is the matter?” screamed Dorothy Dale, suddenly bounding forward.
She could run as well as any boy. Her gymnasium work at Glenwood, and
her vacations out-of-doors, had made Dorothy hardy and strong. She
dashed forward over the rough way, crying out again and again as she
saw that her chum still sat stonily.
Dorothy leaped up beside her and would have--the next moment--seized
Tavia by the shoulder. But there, with her hand outstretched, she
halted. The intake of her breath sounded harsh in her own ears. She saw
what had paralyzed Tavia--and the horrid object nearly froze Dorothy,
too, in her tracks.
Out of the crevice in the rock protruded the arrow-headed upper length
of a rattlesnake. It was coiled less than two feet below the level of
Tavia’s face, and its tail was a-quiver. The whir of the rattles is a
dreaded sound that, once heard, is never to be forgotten.
There the reptile stretched itself, its eyes fairly holding Tavia
charmed. Of course, it was the girl’s own nerves that held her
motionless and speechless--her nerves affected by fear.
Tavia could neither rise to escape the threatened stroke of the
rattler, nor do aught to defend herself from it. The immediate neck of
the creature was curved back, and the pointed head, with the swiftly
shooting tongue, threatened instant attack.
Dorothy felt a dreadful tightening about her heart--just as though a
savage hand had gripped it. She felt as though she would faint--yet she
knew she must not give way to such weakness.
On her depended her chum’s very life!
She glanced about for some weapon. There was no stick within her reach
of sufficient weight to be of use. But there were pebbles and broken
bits of rock scattered over the ground.
She seized the nearest heavy piece of rock. She dared not pitch it at
the snake--the chance of missing the target was too great. But with the
dornick in both hands she crept one--two--three steps toward the rock.
The missile was poised over her head. It was all that Dorothy Dale
could hold steadily.
Down came the heavy piece of rock, just as the rattlesnake darted its
head forward. Its diamond pointed head had been on a level with Tavia’s
chin, for it was a huge fellow.
Dorothy had stopped it in midflight. Scared she most certainly was--her
very soul seemed filled with horror of the poisonous creature. But
Dorothy Dale could not fail her chum in this time of awful peril.
She struck the snake down. Its head and the upper part of its writhing
body was smashed under the rock Dorothy held. She had put her whole
force into the blow and she fell across the rock and the coiling and
uncoiling snake just as the boys came whooping and yelling into view.
As for Tavia, she went quietly off into a faint, and she did not revive
until Ned and Nat carried her up the steep path and laid her down
beside Lost River, from which water was taken to bathe her wrists and
brow.