_A Start Down the Mountain_
Just a week later the boys were ready to quit Camp Venture and proceed
down the mountain, or as Tom, quoting the mountaineers, put it, they
prepared to "git down out'n the mountings."
They had fully accomplished their mission. They had done a great
winter's work. They had sent down the mountain every tie they were
permitted by their contract to furnish; they had sent down many noble
bridge timbers and greatly more cordwood than they had expected to cut.
Their work was done, except that before going home they must go to the
headquarters of the railroad contractors, at the foot of the mountain,
adjust their accounts and collect the money due them.
As the best mountain climber among them, the one who had met and
overcome more mountain difficulties in his time than any other, and the
one who best knew how to "look straight at things and use common
sense," Tom was chosen to direct the perilous descent over the cliffs.
The boys were all heavily loaded, of course. Each had his axe, his
blanket, his extra clothing and four days' rations to carry. Each also
had his gun and there was one extra gun--the rifle that Tom had captured
from the mountaineer--to be carried. "For," said Tom, "while we have no
use for the gun, I've agreed to deliver it to its owner whenever he
chooses to call for it at my mother's house, and I tell you, boys, a
man's first obligation in this world is to keep every promise that he
makes no matter what it costs. I'd take that fellow's rifle down the
mountain if I had to leave my own behind in order to do it."
"You are right, Tom," said the Doctor, "and boys, I propose that we take
charge of that gun and carry it turn and turn about for Tom, for he is
otherwise the worst over-loaded fellow in the party."
For Tom had his skins to carry--the panther's hide, three big bear
skins, several deer hides, and a large number of pelts from raccoons,
opossums, hares, squirrels and other small game.
"In fact," said the Doctor, "I move that we throw Tom down, take away
his load, and divide it equally among the entire party."
"That's it. That's the way to manage it!" cried the boys in chorus. But
Tom would hear of nothing of the kind. "You fellows may help me with the
mountaineer's rifle, if you choose, but I'll manage my bundle of skins
for myself. Thank you, all the same. After all, our luggage isn't going
to bother us half so much, going down the mountain this way as it would
if we went down by the regular trail."
"Why not, Tom?" asked Jack.
"Well, I'll show you after awhile," said Tom. "And in the meantime,
Doctor, I'm going to take all your delicate and expensive scientific
instruments, and myself pack them so that they will endure the journey
without injury. If carried as you have them, there wouldn't be one of
them that wouldn't lie like a moonshiner by the time we 'git out'n the
mountings.' Let me have them, please."
The Doctor, curious to see what the boy was going to do, turned his
instruments over to him and carefully observed his proceedings. Tom
began by selecting a number of the smaller skins, which, instead of
drying, he had "tanned" with brains, corn meal-rubbing and other devices
known to him as a hunter. These were as limp and soft as so many pieces
of muslin, but greatly tougher. With them Tom carefully wrapped each
instrument separately, securely tying up each with string, which the
boy seemed always to have hidden somewhere about his person in unlimited
quantity and variety of sizes and kinds.
"That's a trick I learned in hunting," he said, when questioned. "You
can never have too much string with you."
Next he packed these bundles together, interposing dried and stiff hides
between the several parcels, and again securely tied them together. Then
he took the hide of his "Ursa Major," which was still "green" and limp,
and which, as the boys suggested, "smelt uncommonly bad," and rolled the
whole bundle in that, "skinny side out," binding it securely with stout
twine. Finally he wrapped the stiff dried hide of the first bear he had
killed, and the equally stiff panther's hide over all, as a sort of
"goods box," he said, and, with a piece of red keel, he playfully marked
on the panther's skin, "Glass! Handle with care."
"But now who is going to carry all this load?" asked Jack.
"Tom and I," said the Doctor, quickly. "The skins are Tom's and the
instruments are mine. So we'll take some more of Tom's string and rig up
some handles by which he and I can carry the bundle."
"You see," said Tom, "we may possibly have to drop it over a cliff now
and then, and I've tried to do it up so as to stand that without
breaking the instruments. But I think we can manage to avoid that. At
any rate, we'll try. Now, come on, boys."
They had already taken leave of the lieutenant, and with four days'
rations in their haversacks--for the lieutenant had supplied them with
those military conveniences--haversacks--they began the descent of the
mountain by that difficult way that Tom had followed on the night when
he inspected the stills.
It was nine o'clock when they started. They made their way with
comparative ease for nearly an hour. Then they came upon a bluff of
formidable proportions and difficulty. Here Tom's experience and
generalship came into play for the first time.
"All lay off your loads," he said. "Now, Harry, you are a discreet
fellow and a good climber. Strip yourself of everything that can
possibly embarrass you, and go down over the bluff. Remember what I have
told you about bushes. Some of them cling tenaciously, while some of
them give way in their roots at the first serious pull. Never trust one
of them, but hold on by two always, and support yourself by your feet on
every projection of rock you can find, so as not to overtax the bushes.
When you are holding by two bushes, never let go of one to catch
another lower down till you have satisfied yourself of the security of
the other one by which you are holding on, and then grab the new one as
quickly as you can. Make your way to the foot of the cliff, and we'll
then let all our baggage and arms down to you with twine. You are to
receive it all, untie the twine and let us pull it up again for the next
bundle. When all our luggage is down, we'll climb down ourselves. There
isn't any serious difficulty about it if we're careful. As I told you
boys awhile ago, there isn't any such thing as accident. It is all a
question of carefulness."
Harry did his part well in making the descent of this first precipice
and the work of lowering the arms and luggage, including every boy's
haversack--for it was imperative that in the bush climb down the cliff,
no boy should carry a single ounce of unnecessary weight--occupied full
two hours' time.
The Doctor was the last to go over the edge of the precipice, and he
alone met with mishap. Jack, with his heavy weight, had preceded him,
and the bushes, already weakened by the strain the other boys had given
them, were some of them almost torn out by the roots from the rock
crevices in which they grew. So when the Doctor was about half way
down, one of them gave way suddenly, leaving the Doctor's right hand
with no support and swinging him around in very perilous fashion. But
the Doctor had by this time become a good deal of an athlete, and
instantly realizing his danger, he swung himself around on his toes,
which rested in a crevice of the cliff, and grasped with his right hand
a sharp edge of rock which protruded some inches from the face of the
cliff. It was a perilous hold, as the boys, looking on from below,
clearly saw, and one that obviously could not be long maintained. But
the Doctor had his wits about him, and after a moment's pause, he
grasped another bush which held securely, and five minutes later he was
on the ledge below.
Here it was decided to halt for the midday meal. A fire was built; the
game which had been brought--or at least so much of it as was needed for
this meal--was broiled upon live coals, and a pot of coffee was
made--for of that sustaining article the original supply had not yet
been quite exhausted.