THE END OF THE PURSUIT
By degrees the light got clearer, the scattered black cedars grew into
definite form, and a strip of foaming water showed in the depths of the
chasm. Lisle walked some distance along the edge, searching for an easier
place to cross, but the rocks were smooth and almost perpendicular except
where they overhung the torrent. He went back to where the others were
sitting and found that they had been joined by Crestwick, who briefly
explained that having set out on their trail he had been stopped by the
canon and had followed it up until it led him to them.
"It looks worse farther along; we'll have to try it here," Lisle
announced. "Can you get down, Nasmyth?"
Nasmyth glanced into the rift. It was, he judged, nearly sixty feet in
depth, but part of the bank on which he stood had slipped down into the
stream, leaving an uneven surface by means of which an agile man might
descend. A tall slab of rock, evidently part of the fallen mass, rose in
a pinnacle from the water, and on top of it rested the branches of the
tree that Gladwyne had used as a bridge and had afterward dislodged. The
rock behind it on the opposite bank was absolutely smooth, but the
thicker end of the log, which had fallen against the face, reached to
within about nine feet of the summit.
"Yes," he said, answering Lisle's question; "but I'm very doubtful
whether I can get up the other side. The last bit looks particularly
awkward; there's an outward bulge just beneath the top."
"We might manage it by giving the leader a lift, if we got so far,"
Batley suggested, pointing to the sharp slab. "That pike should help us;
I think it would go."
"You think it would go?" queried Nasmyth meaningly. "Aren't you mixing
idioms? Pike's what we'd say round Wasdale, and your other expression's
not uncommon in Switzerland."
Batley laughed.
"I'll own that I've done some rock work in both districts, though I was
thinner then. But I've an idea that time's precious to our leader."
He lowered himself over the edge and finding foothold, went down
cautiously by crack and fissure, while the others followed with some
trouble. Alighting waist-deep in a frothing rush of water, he was driven
for a few yards down-stream, and it was only by seeking the support of
the rock that he slowly made head against the torrent. Lisle joined him
when he reached the foot of the pinnacle, where they stopped to gather
breath with a thin shower of spray whirling about them. The light was
still dim down in the bottom of the chasm, and the mass of rock ran up
above them, shadowy, black and almost smooth.
Wasting no time in examination, Lisle flung himself upon it, seeking for
a grip with elbows and knees. He had ascended a yard or two when he lost
hold and coming down with a run fell with a splash into the stream.
"I didn't think you'd manage it that way," Batley remarked. "The edge
appears a little more promising."
He went up, with Lisle following, finding hold for knees and fingers,
while Nasmyth and Crestwick, panting heavily, encouraged each other
below. On reaching the top of the pinnacle, Batley lay upon it and gave
Lisle his hand; and when he had drawn him up he pointed to the tree.
"I'll go first, for reasons that will become apparent later," he
explained. "Hold on to the log; it doesn't seem firmly fixed."
The tree was small and when Lisle shook it the butt moved against the
face of the rock, which was separated by a broad gap from the top of the
fallen mass. Batley was heavy, but he ascended cautiously, while Lisle
leaned upon the log to steady it. Then, calling Nasmyth to take his
place, Lisle went up. When he was near the top, it looked as if their
progress must abruptly cease. The butt was narrow and the summit of the
rock above it projected somewhat. There was not the smallest knob or
crevice one could grasp, and below them in the shadowy rift the torrent
boiled furiously among massy stones. It was not a place to slip in.
Batley, however, rose very carefully, with his feet upon the shattered
butt and his hands pressed against the rock, until he stood almost
upright.
"You'll have to climb up over me until you can get your fingers on the
top," he said. "Take time when you get up and feel for a good hold."
Reaching his shoulders, Lisle stood on them while Nasmyth and Crestwick
on the pinnacle beneath looked up at a somewhat impressive spectacle.
Lisle's head and shoulders were now above the edge, but he was forced to
bend backward and outward by the projecting bulge which pressed against
his breast, and his cautious movements suggested that he could find no
hold. It appeared impossible for him to descend, unless he did so
accidentally, and in that event nothing could save him from a fall to the
bottom of the ravine. For a while, they watched his tense figure moving
futilely; and then Batley, standing most precariously poised, bent his
arm and seized one of Lisle's feet. He spoke in a breathless gasp as he
thrust it upward; Lisle's legs swung free and he disappeared beyond the
edge. The two below were conscious of a vast relief. It was tempered,
however, by the knowledge that they must shortly emulate their
companion's exploit.
"Take off your pack!" Batley called to Lisle. "Split the bag, if it's
necessary, and lower the end! But be quick! This isn't a comfortable
position."
The pack in which the small bush rancher conveys his provisions from the
nearest store as a rule consists of a cotton flour bag with a pair of
suspenders fastened to its corners, and Nasmyth had provided the party
with a few receptacles of similar pattern but more strongly made before
entering the wilds. The straps, when Lisle let them down, reached several
feet from the top, and Batley bade Nasmyth and Crestwick ascend. They
managed it with assistance from Lisle, who seized them from above. Then
Batley called up to them.
"I'm going to test the tackle. Give me a hand up as soon as I'm over the
bulge!"
It was difficult to hear him, as he was still beneath the projecting
edge, and they watched the straining straps with keen anxiety until a
hand that felt for a hold upon the rock appeared. Lisle seized it, with
Nasmyth ready to assist, and Batley came up, gasping, with the
perspiration streaming from his face.
"I'd have managed it easily at one time," he said. "This is what comes of
civilization and soft living."
"You brought us across; we owe you a good deal for it," declared Lisle.
Batley smiled at him as they set off again.
"In this case, I won't be an exacting creditor. In fact, it's rather
curious how we've hit it off, considering that you wouldn't hear of a
compromise and our interests are opposed."
"I don't know what your interests are," Lisle returned dryly.
"Then, in one way, I'm ahead of you. I know your wishes, and
Nasmyth's--you don't want Clarence to marry Miss Gladwyne. It's your
motive I'm not sure about. Do you want the girl yourself?"
They were some distance in front of the others, who were too far behind
to hear them. Lisle looked at his companion steadily. The man was engaged
in a business that was regarded with general disfavor, but there was
something he liked about him and he did not resent his bluntness.
"Well," he answered, "it isn't for the reason you've given that I mean to
stop the match."
"Can you do so?"
"I'm going to try."
Batley smiled reflectively.
"And the present journey is somehow connected with the attempt? Now I
believe I might have left you held up on the wrong side of the canon;
the idea was in my mind and you can give me credit for not yielding to
it. I suppose there would be no use in my asking you for a hint as to the
relation between my rather tricky companion's expedition and his cousin's
death?"
"None in the least," said Lisle decidedly.
Batley made a gesture of acquiescence.
"Oh, well! We must try to be friends as long as possible."
Nothing more was said about the matter, and they spent the day forcing a
passage through scrub timber, up precipitous hillsides, and across long
stony ridges.
There was no sign of Gladwyne's trail, but that did not trouble Lisle,
for he knew where the man was heading for. On the second day Batley
showed signs of distress, and Nasmyth and Crestwick were walking very
wearily, but Lisle held on at a merciless pace. It was essential that he
should reach the cache before Gladwyne could interfere with it. Toward
evening, Nasmyth made an effort and caught up with Lisle.
"How would Clarence get across to the second cache on the other side of
the water?" he asked. "It's a point I've been considering; I suppose it's
occurred to you."
"I don't know," Lisle confessed. "The Indians near the divide said there
was another party with canoes somewhere lower down; but, as the packer
who was with me didn't talk to them, so far as I noticed, I don't see how
Gladwyne could have heard of it; but that's as far as I can go. If he
destroyed the first cache, it would help to clear him, unless you can
vouch for the correctness of the list I made; but he may have some
further plan in his mind." He paused and raised his hand. "Listen! Isn't
that the river? We can't be far from the cache."
The day, like the two or three preceding it, had been hot and bright, and
now that evening was drawing on, the still air was heavy with the smell
of the cedars in a neighboring hollow. A high ridge stood out black
against a vivid green glow, and from beyond it there rose a faint, hoarse
murmur. Nasmyth welcomed it gladly as announcing the end of the march.
"The rest of the party can hardly be down until to-morrow; there's a
couple of portages," he said. "It looks as if we'll have to go without
our supper."
"I don't want to see them before morning," Lisle returned grimly.
They pushed on, the light growing dimmer as they went, until at length
the moon rose from behind the ridge; and when they had skirted the ridge
they saw the river glimmer beneath them in a flood of silvery radiance.
It filled the gorge with its deep murmur, for the hot sunshine for three
days had melted the snow, which had poured down to swell the flood by
every gully. Not far below the neck the broken surface was flecked with
white where the river swept angrily over a sharper slope of its bed, and
a black boulder or two stood out in the midst of the rushing foam.
Up-stream of this there was a strip of shingle which Nasmyth recognized
as the one where the cache had been made; he supposed that Lisle had
struck the spot by heading for the narrow rift of the neck, which was
conspicuous for some distance from both sides.
From end to end the sweep of pebbles was clearly distinct; but there was
no dark figure moving about it, and Nasmyth wondered if they had come too
late. They had marched fast, as his aching muscles testified, but they
had been delayed at the canon and Gladwyne had had a long start. If he
had arrived and had visited the cache, their efforts might prove to have
been thrown away. There must be no shadow of doubt when Lisle told his
startling story.
They descended with caution, moving through shadow, for the ridge above
them cut off the moonlight, though it was far from dark, and they were
near the bottom when Crestwick dislodged a bank of stones which went
rattling and crashing down to the beach. A moment later a black form
sprang out from among the rocks below and ran hurriedly along the
shingle. This surprised Nasmyth because he could not doubt that the man
was Gladwyne and he failed to understand his object in making what would
probably be a futile attempt to avoid them. Lisle was some distance in
front, and his voice rang out sharply:
"Head him off from the canoe!"
Nasmyth broke into a stumbling run--it was now obvious that Gladwyne
meant to cross the river, and perhaps destroy the second cache.
Gladwyne had reached the canoe when Lisle gained the beach, and Nasmyth,
descending in reckless haste, saw him hurriedly turn it over and raise
the forward end of it. Lisle was running his hardest, almost as if he
were fresh, up the long strip of shingle; but it was evident that he
would be too late, and they would have no means of following Gladwyne
after the canoe was launched. There was a sharp rattle of stones as he
hauled it down; Lisle was still some way behind; Gladwyne sprang on board
and thrust the light craft off, and a few strokes of the paddle drove her
well out into the stream.
Lisle stopped, standing in the moonlight, and his comrade could see his
hands tightly clenched at his side; then he suddenly tore off his jacket
and flung it behind him. Noticing this, Nasmyth attempted to increase his
pace. The river was running fast, swollen with melted snow, and Lisle
must be badly worn out. If he had to be restrained by force, he should
not attempt to swim across.
Then, to Nasmyth's astonishment, Gladwyne leaned over the stern of the
craft and began to paddle desperately with one hand. This proceeding
caused Lisle to stop again, close at the water's edge.
"Come back!" he shouted.
Nasmyth ran up and Lisle turned.
"He's dropped or broken his paddle--cracked it when he shoved her out.
There are two or three ugly rocks in the rapid."
They ran along the bank together, keeping pace with the craft which was
sliding away fast with the stream. Nasmyth could feel his heart thumping
as he wondered what Clarence would do. Though he could not cross the
river, it was possible that he might propel the light canoe back to the
shingle with his hand before he reached the rapid. As he could not guide
her in the strong rush of water, there would be danger in attempting to
descend it. He made no response, however, to their warning shouts.
Batley and Crestwick overtook the others shortly before the canoe swept
into the faster stream at the head of the rapid and they watched her
eagerly. There was a narrow pass between several boulders close ahead,
which was the chief danger, and the current seemed to be carrying the
craft down on one of them. In a few moments she struck and jambed,
broadside on, across the mass of stone. White foam boiled about her; they
saw Gladwyne rise and clutch the rock, but whether to thrust her off or
to climb out did not appear. He suddenly sank down and, so far as they
could make out, the canoe rolled over.
The next moment Lisle plunged into the river. Nasmyth ran to the water's
edge, but seeing that he was too late, he sat down limply. Lisle was a
good swimmer, but it did not seem possible that any man could reach
Clarence before he was washed out at the tail of the rapid. It became
evident, however, that somebody else meant to try, for Batley, running
hard down the beach, plunged in.
"It's awful!" gasped Jim Crestwick behind Nasmyth. "It's not the risk of
drowning; they'll be smashed to bits! Anyway, we'd better make for the
slack at the tail."
Nasmyth got up. He could see nothing of Gladwyne or either of the others;
there were only black rocks, rushing water and outbreaks of foam, and he
had a sickening idea that long before they reached the quieter pool the
need for any services he could render would be past. Fortunately, the
beach was fairly smooth, and after a desperate run they reached a tongue
of rock beneath which the eddy swung. Farther on, in the shadow, Batley
stood in the water, calling to them and apparently clinging hard to a
half-seen object in the stream.
Nasmyth leaped in knee-deep, with Crestwick behind him, and gripping the
loosely-hanging arm of the body Batley was supporting, he asked hoarsely:
"Who is it?"
"Lisle!" was the breathless answer. "Help me to get him out!"
They dragged him up the beach and let him sink down. He lay upon the
shingle, silent and inert.
"Make a fire, Jim!" commanded Batley. "Lift his shoulder a bit, Nasmyth!
Turn him partly over!"
He hurriedly examined Lisle and then looked up.
"It's not a case of drowning; and his limbs look sound. Must have got the
breath knocked out of him against a boulder." He pointed to a broad red
gash on Lisle's forehead as Nasmyth eased him down again. "That explains
his unconsciousness."
"Where's Gladwyne?" Nasmyth asked.
Batley made an expressive gesture.
"Beyond our help, anyway; somewhere down-river." He appeared to brace
himself with an effort. "I'm pretty nearly finished, but there's a good
deal to be done. We'll strip Lisle, and you and Crestwick can share your
dry things with him. Then one of you had better gather cedar twigs for
him to lie on."