AGE SERVES YOUTH
The two girls had carried no suit-case, satchel or duffel bag on this
trip. Their spare clothing was stowed away in their sleeping bags. When
their host had lighted their way to the room that was to be theirs for
the night, and had retired to his large room, they tip-toed back to their
sleds, unlashed their sleeping bags and carried them as they were to
their room.
For some hours Marian had not thought of the ancient treasure found in
the cave, but once she began unrolling her sleeping bag she was reminded
of it. A piece of old ivory went clattering to the floor. With a cry of
surprise she picked it up, then carefully removed the other pieces of
ivory, copper and ancient pottery and stood them in a row against the
wall.
Again there came the temptation to give them a thorough examination.
Events transpired later that caused her to wish that she had done so. But
weary and troubled by the turn affairs had taken, she again put off this
inviting task. She slipped at once into her sleeping gown and plunged
beneath the covers of the most delightful bed she had ever known. Attatak
followed her a few seconds later.
They found themselves lying upon a bed of springy moss mixed with the
fragrant tips of balsam. Over this had been thrown wolfskin robes. With
one of these beneath them, and two above, they snuggled down until only
their noses were showing.
They did not sleep at once. Left to himself, the mysterious old man had
seated himself at his organ, and now sent forth such wild, pealing tones
as Marian had never heard before. He was doing Dvorjak’s wildest
symphony, and making it wilder and more weird than even the composer
himself could have dreamed it might be made.
Throughout its rendition, Marian lay tense as a bow-string. As it ended
with a wild, racing crash, she settled back with a shiver, wondering what
could throw such a spell over an old man as would cause him to play in
that manner.
Had she known the reason she would have done little sleeping that night.
The aged host was tuning his soul to such a key as would nerve him for a
Herculean task.
Since Marian did not know, she puzzled for a time over the trail they
must travel in the morning; wondered vaguely how her host was to keep his
promise of bringing their sleds safely past the rapids; then fell asleep.
As for their host, fifteen minutes after the last note of his wild
symphony had died away, he tip-toed down the silent corridor which led to
the door of the room in which the girls were sleeping. Having convinced
himself by a moment of listening that they were asleep, he made his way
to the spot where their two sleds had been left. These he examined
carefully. After straightening up, he murmured:
“Took their sleeping-bags. That’s bad. Didn’t need ’em. Can’t disturb ’em
now. Guess it can be managed.”
After delivering himself of this monologue, he proceeded to wrap the
contents of each sled in a water-proof blanket, then dragged them out
into the moonlight.
Having strapped an axe, a pick and a shovel on one sled, he tied the
other sled to it and began pulling them over the smooth downhill trail
that led toward the falls.
For a full mile he plodded stolidly on. Then he halted, separated the
sleds, and with the foremost sled gliding on before him, plunged down a
steep bank to the right. Presently he came toiling back up the hill for
the other sled.
At the bottom once more, he stood for a moment staring into the foaming
depths of a roaring torrent.
“Pretty bad,” he muttered. “Never did it before at this time of year.
Might fail. Might—”
Suddenly he broke off and began humming, “Tum—te—tum—tum—tum.” He was
going over and over that mad symphony. It appeared to give him strength
and courage, and seizing the pick, he began hacking away at some object
that lay half buried in the snow.
Fifteen minutes later he had exhumed a short, square raft.
“Built you for other purposes, but you’ll do for this,” he muttered.
“Other logs where you came from.”
He set both sleds carefully upon the raft; then with yards upon yards of
rawhide rope, lashed them solidly to it.
This done, he began running out a heavier rope. This he carried up the
bank to a spot where there was a mass of jagged rock covered here and
there by hard packed snow.
More than once he slipped, but always he struggled upward until at last
he stood upon the topmost pinnacle. A heroic figure silhouetted in the
moonlight, he stood for a full five minutes staring down at the racing
waters below. Dancing in the moonlight, they appeared to reach out black
hands to grasp and drag him down.
Before him, on the opposite side, gleamed a high white bank. A sheer
precipice of ice fifty feet high, this was the end of a glacier that
every now and again sent a thousand tons of ice thundering into the deep
pool at its foot.
Beneath this ice barrier the water had worn a channel. A boat drifting
down on the rushing waters would certainly be sucked down beneath this
ice and be crushed like an eggshell.
What the old man intended to do was evident enough. He meant to set the
raft, laden with the sleds and trappings so precious to his young guests,
afloat in those turbulent waters and then to attempt by means of the rope
to hold it from being drawn beneath the ice, and to guide it a half mile
down the river to quieter waters below. There was no path for him to
follow. Jagged rocks and ice-like snow, slippery as glass, awaited him;
yet he dared to try it.
Here was a task fit for the youngest and the strongest; yet there he
stood, the spirit of a hero flowing in his veins—age serving youth. The
gallantry of a great and perfect gentleman bowing to fair ladies and
daring all. How Marian would have thrilled at sight of this daring act.
With a swift turn he tightened the rope, then with the “de—de—dum” of his
symphony upon his lips, strained every muscle until he felt the rope
slack, then eased away as he saw the raft tilt for the glide. Then he
relaxed his muscles and stood there watching.
With a slow graceful movement the small raft glided out upon the water.
An eddy seized it and whirled it about. Three times it turned, then the
current caught it, and whirled it away. The rope was tight now, and every
muscle of the grand old man was tense. A battle had begun which was to
decide whether or not the two girls were to reach the station and fulfill
their mission.