THE PERFECT ADVENTURE
"Who cares whether or not my hands are clean? Does God? Wouldn't God
expect me to punish evil? God is mercilessly just, is He not? Else
why disease and grief in the world? If you could only tell
me!"--_Enoch's Diary_.
It was nipping cold in the morning. Ice encrusted the edges of the
little brook. But by the time breakfast was finished, the sun had
appeared over the distant mountain peaks and the long warm rays soon
brought the thermometer up to summer heat. Milton expounded his
program at breakfast. Jonas was to keep the camp. Enoch and Milton
were to climb to the rim for topographical information. Harden was to
look for fossils. Agnew and Forrester were to make a geological report
on the strata of the section.
Jonas was extraordinarily well pleased with his assignment.
"I'm going to finish painting the Na-che," he said. "Mr. Milton, have
you got anything I can mend the tarpaulins with that go over the decks?"
"Needles and twine in the bag labeled Repairs," replied Milton. "How
about giving the Ida the once over, too, Jonas."
"All right! If I get around to it!" Jonas' manner was vague.
"Can't love but one boat at a time, eh, Jonas?" asked Enoch.
"I always wanted to have a boat to fix up," said Jonas. "When I was a
kid my folks had an old flat-bottom tub, but I never earned enough for
a can of paint. Will you folks be home by twelve for dinner?"
There was a chorus of assent as the crew scattered to its several
tasks. Milton and Enoch started at once up the edge of the brook,
hoping that the ascent might be made more easily thus. But the
crevice, out of which the little stream found its way to the Colorado,
narrowed rapidly to the point where it became impossible for the two
men to work their way into it. They were obliged, after a half hour's
struggle, to return to the camp and start again.
A very steep slope of bright orange sand led from the shore to a
scarcely less oblique terrace of sharp broken rock. There were several
hundred feet of the sand and, as it was dry and loose, it caused a
constant slipping and falling that consumed both time and strength.
The rocky terrace was far easier to manage, and they covered that
rapidly, although Enoch had a nasty fall, cutting his knee. They were
brought to pause, however, when the broken rock gave way to a sheer
hard wall, which offered neither crack nor projection for hand or foot
hold.
Milton led the way carefully along its foot for a quarter of a mile
until they reached a fissure wide enough for them to enter. The walls
of this were crossed by transverse cracks. By utilizing these, now
pulling, now boosting each other, they finally emerged on a flat,
smooth tableland, of which fissures had made a complete island. At the
southern end of the island rose an abrupt black peak.
"If we can get to the top of that," said Milton, "it ought to bring us
to the general desert level. Is your knee bothering you, Judge?"
"Not enough to stop the parade," replied Enoch. "How high do you think
that peak is, Milton?"
"Not less than a thousand feet, I would guess. I bet it's as easy to
climb as a greased pole, too."
The pinnacle, when they reached it, appeared very little less difficult
than Milton had guessed it would be. The north side offered no hope
whatever. It rose smooth and perpendicular toward the heavens. But
the south side was rough and though a yawning fissure at its base added
five hundred feet to its southern height they determined to try their
fortunes here. Ledges and jutting rocks, cracks and depressions
finally made the ascent possible. The top, when they achieved it, was
not twenty feet in diameter. They dropped on it, panting.
The view which met their eyes was superb. To the south lay the desert,
rainbow colored. Rising abruptly from its level were isolated peaks of
bright purple, all of them snow capped, many of them with crevices
marked by the brilliant white of snow. Miles to the south of the
isolated peaks lay a long range of mountains, dull black against the
blue sky, but with the white of snow caps showing even at this
distance. To the north, the river gorge wound like a snake; the gorge
and one huge mountain dominating the entire northern landscape.
Satiated by wonders as Milton was, he exclaimed over the beauty of this
giant, sleeping in the desert sun.
A sprawling cone in outline, there was nothing extraordinary about it
in contour, but its size and color surpassed anything that Enoch had as
yet seen. From base to apex it was a perfect rose tint, deepening
where its great shoulders bent, to crimson. As if still not satisfied
with her work, nature had sent a recent snow storm to embellish the
verdureless rock, and the mountain was lightly powdered with white
which here was of a gauze-like texture permitting pale rose to glimmer
through, there lay in drifts, white defined against crimson.
Enoch sat gazing about him while Milton worked rapidly with his note
book and instruments. Finally he slipped his pencil into his pocket
with a sigh.
"And that's done! What do you say to a return for lunch, Judge?"
"I'm very much with you," replied Enoch. "Here! Hold up, old man!
What's the matter?" For Milton was swaying and would have fallen if
Enoch had not caught him.
Milton clung to Enoch's broad shoulder for a moment, then straightened
himself with a jerk.
"Sorry, Judge. It's that infernal vertigo again!"
"What's the cause of it?" asked Enoch. "Might be rather serious, might
it not, on a trip such as yours?"
"I think the water we have to drink must be affecting my kidneys,"
replied Milton. "I never had anything of the sort before this trip,
but I've been troubled this way a dozen times lately. It only lasts
for a minute."
"But in that minute," Enoch's voice was grave, "you might fall down a
mountain or out of the boat."
"Oh, I don't get it that bad! And anyhow, I haven't gone off alone
since these things began. When we get to El Tovar I'll try to locate a
doctor."
Enoch looked admiringly at the grim young freckled face beneath the
faded hat. "I see I shall have to appoint myself bodyguard," he said.
"I'd suggest Jonas, only he's deserted me for the Na-che, and I doubt
if you could win him from her."
Milton laughed. "Nothing on earth can equal the joy of puddling about
in boats, to the right kind of a chap, as the _Wind in the Willows_ has
it. And Jonas certainly is the right kind of a chap!"
"Jonas is a man, every inch of him," agreed Enoch. "Shall we try the
descent now, Milton?"
"I'm ready," replied the young man, and the slow and arduous task was
begun.
Jonas was just lifting the frying pan from the fire when they slid down
the orange sand bank. The rest of the crew was ready and waiting
around the flat rock that served as dining table.
"What's the matter with your knee, boss?" cried Jonas, standing with
the coffee pot in his hand.
Enoch laughed as he glanced down at his torn and blood-stained
overalls. "Of course, if you were giving me half the care you give
your boat, Jonas, these things wouldn't happen to me!"
"You better let me fix you up, before you eat, boss," said Jonas.
"Not on your life, old man! Food will do this knee more good than a
bandage."
"It's a wonder you wouldn't offer to help the rest of us out once in a
while, Jonas!" Harden looked up from his plate of fish. "Look at this
scratch on my cheek! I might get blood poisoning, but lots you care if
my fatal beauty was destroyed! As it is, I look as much like an inmate
of a menagerie as old goat Forrester here."
"Too bad the scratch didn't injure your tongue, Harden," returned
Forrester, sarcastically.
"Nothing seems able to stop your chin, though, Forr! Why do you have
to get sore every time I speak to you?"
"Because you're always going out of your way to say something insulting
to me."
"Don't make a mountain out of a mole hill, Forr," said Milton. "If you
fellows aren't careful you'll have a real quarrel, and that's the last
thing I'm going to stand for, I warn you."
"Very well, Milt," replied Forrester, "if you don't want trouble make
Harden keep his tongue off me."
"The fault is primarily yours, Hard," Milton went on. "You know
Forrester is foolishly sensitive and you can't control your love of
teasing. Now, once for all, I ask you not to speak to Forrester except
on the business of the survey."
Harden shrugged his shoulders and Forrester scowled a little
sheepishly. Agnew, a serene, kindly fellow, began one of his endless
Irish stories, and the incident appeared to be closed. The work
assigned for the day was accomplished in shorter order than Milton had
anticipated. By two o'clock all hands were back in camp and Milton
decided to embark and move on as far as possible before nightfall. But
scarcely had they finished loading the boats and tied on the tarpaulins
when a heavy rain began to fall, accompanied by lightning and
tremendous peals of thunder that echoed through the Canyon deafeningly.
Milton, in his anxiety to get on with his task, would have continued in
spite of the rain, but the others protested so vigorously that he gave
in and the whole party crawled under a sheltering ledge beside the
brook. For an hour the storm raged. A few flakes of snow mingled with
the descending rain drops. Then with a superb flash of lightning and
crash of thunder the storm passed as suddenly as it had come, though
for hours after they heard it reverberate among the distant peaks.
At last they embarked and proceeded along a smooth, swift-flowing river
for a short time. Then, however, the familiar roar of falls was heard,
the current increased rapidly in velocity and Milton made a landing for
observation.
They were at the head of the wildest falls that Enoch had yet seen.
The Canyon walls were smooth and perpendicular. There was no
possibility of a portage. The river was full of rocks against which
dashed waves ten to twelve feet high.
"We'll have to run it!" shouted Milton above the din of the waters.
"Powell did it and so can we. Give the Ida five minutes' start, Hard.
Then profit by the mistakes you see us make. All ready, Judge and
Forr!"
Under Milton's directions, they rowed back upstream far enough to gain
complete control of the boat before entering the falls. Then they shot
forward. Instantly the oars became useless. They were carried upward
on the crest of a wave that seemed about to drop them down an
unbelievable depth to a jagged rock. But at this point, another wave
seized them and hurled them sidewise, half rolled them over, then
uptilted them until the Ida's nose was deep in the water.
They bailed like mad but to little avail for the waves broke over the
sides constantly. They could see little for the air was full of
blinding spray. Suddenly, after what had seemed an eternity but was
really five minutes of time, there was a rending crash and the Ida slid
into quieter water, turning completely over as she did so.
Enoch, as the sucking current seized him, was convinced that his hour
had come, and a quick relief was his first sensation. Then Diana's
wistful eyes flashed before him and he began to fight the Colorado. As
his head emerged from the water, he saw the Na-che land on all fours
from the top of a wave upon the overturned Ida, then whirl away. He
began to swim with all his strength. The mud forever suspended in the
Colorado weighed down his clothing. But little by little he drew near
the Ida, to which he could see two dark bodies clinging. The Na-che,
struggling to cross a whirlpool toward him, made slow progress. He
had, indeed, dizzily grasped the Ida, before the other boat came up.
"We can hang on, Hard!" gasped Milton. "Give us a tow to that sand
spit yonder."
They reached the sand spit and staggered to land, while Harden and his
crew turned the Ida over and beached her. She had a six-inch gap in
her side.
"Well," panted Enoch, "I'm glad we managed to keep dry during the
rainstorm!"
"My Lord, Judge!" exclaimed Milton, "your own mother wouldn't own you
now! I don't see how one human being could carry so much mud on his
face!"
"I'll bet it's not as bad as yours at that," returned Enoch. "Jonas,
as long as it's not the Na-che that's hurt--"
"Coming, boss, coming!" cried Jonas. "Here's your moccasins and here's
your suit. Sure you aren't hurt any?"
"Jonas," replied Enoch in a low voice that the others might not hear,
"Jonas, I'm having the greatest time of my life!"
"So am I, Mr. Secretary! Honest, I'm so paralyzed afraid that I enjoy
it!" And Jonas hurried away to inspect the Ida.
It was so biting cold, now that the afternoon was late, that all the
wrecked crew changed clothing before attempting to make camp or unload
the Ida.
"How many miles have we made by this venture, Milton?" called Enoch, as
he pulled on his moccasins.
"One and a half!"
Enoch grinned, then he began to laugh. The others looked at him, then
joined him, and Homeric laughter echoed for a long minute above the
snarl of the water. Fortunately the hole in the Ida did not open into
one of the compartments, so there was no damage done to the baggage.
It was too dark by the time this had been ascertained to attempt
repairs that night, so Milton agreed to call it a day, and after supper
was over every one but Enoch and Milton went to bed. These two sat
long in silence before the fire, smoking and enjoying the sense of
companionship that was developing between them. Finally Enoch spoke in
a low voice:
"You're going to have trouble between Forrester and Harden."
"It certainly looks like it, I've tried every sort of appeal to each of
them, but trouble keeps on smoldering." Milton shook his head.
"That's one of the trivial things that can wreck an expedition like
this; just incompatibility among the men. What would you do about it,
Judge?"
"I'd put it to them that they could either keep the peace or draw lots
to see which of them should leave the expedition at the Ferry. In
fact, I don't believe I'd temporize even that much. I'd certainly set
one of them ashore. My experience with men leads me to believe that
with a certain type of men, there is no appeal. As you say, they're
both nice chaps but they have a childish streak in them. The majority
of men have. A leader must not be too patient."
"You're right," agreed Milton. "Judge, couldn't you complete the trip
with us?"
"How long will you be out?" asked Enoch.
"Another six months!"
Enoch laughed, then said slowly: "There's nothing I'd like to do
better, but I must go home, from the Ferry."
Milton gazed at Enoch for a time without speaking. Then he said, a
little wistfully, "I suppose that while this is the most important
experience so far in my life, to you it is the merest episode, that
you'll forget the moment you get into the Pullman for the East."
"Why should you think that?" asked Enoch.
"I can't quite tell you why. But there's something about you that
makes me believe that in your own section of the country, you're a
power. Perhaps it's merely your facial expression. I don't know--you
look like some one whom I can't recall. Perhaps that some one has the
power and I confuse the two of you, but--I beg your pardon, Judge!" as
Enoch's eyebrows went up.
"You have nothing to beg it for, Milton. But you're wrong when you
think this trip is merely an episode to me. All my life I have longed
for just such an experience in the Canyon. It's like enchantment to
really find myself here."
Milton smiled. "Well, we all have our Carcasonnes."
"What's yours?" demanded Enoch.
The younger man hesitated. "It's so absurd--but--well, I've always
wanted to be Chief of the Geological Survey."
"Why?"
"Why did you dream of a wild trip down the Colorado as the realization
of your greatest desire?" asked Milton.
"I couldn't put it into words," answered Enoch. "But I suppose it's
the pioneer in me or something elemental that never quite dies in any
of us, of Anglo-Saxon blood."
Milton nodded. "The Chief of the Geological Survey's job is to
administer nature in the raw. I'd like to have a chance at it."
"I believe you'd get away with it, too, Milton," Enoch replied
thoughtfully.
Milton laughed. "Too bad you aren't Secretary of the Interior! Well,
I'm all in! Let's go to bed."
"You go ahead. I'll sit here with my pipe a bit longer."
But, after all, Enoch did not write in his diary that night. Before
Milton had established himself in his blankets, Harden rose and went to
a canteen for a drink of water. On his return he stumbled over
Forrester's feet. Instantly Forrester sat erect.
"What're you doing, you clumsy dub foot?" he shouted.
"Oh, dry up, Forr; I didn't mean to hurt you, you great boob!"
"We'll settle this right now!" Forrester was on his feet and his fist
had landed on Harden's cheek before Enoch could cross the camp. And
before he or Milton could separate the combatants, Harden had returned
the blow with interest, and with a muttered:
"Take that, you sore-headed dog, you!"
Forrester tried to twist away from Enoch, but could not do so. Harden
freed himself from Milton's grasp, but did not attempt to go on with
the fight.
"One or the other of you," said Milton briefly, "leaves the expedition
at the Ferry. I'll tell you later which it will be. I'm ashamed of
both of you."
"I'd like to know what's made a tin god of you, Jim Milton!" shouted
Forrester. "You don't own us, body and soul. I've been in the Survey
longer than you! I joined this expedition before you did. And I'll
leave it when I get ready!"
"You'll leave it at the Ferry, Forrester!" Milton's voice was quiet,
but his nostrils dilated.
"And I'm telling you, I'll leave it when I please, which will be at
Needles! If any one goes, it'll be that skunk of a Harden."
Harden laughed, turned on his heel and deliberately rolled himself in
his blankets. Forrester stood for a moment, muttering to himself, then
he took his blankets off to an obscure corner of the sand. And Enoch
forgot his diary and went to bed, to ponder until shortly sleep
overtook him, on the perversity of the male animal.
In the morning Jonas constituted himself ship's carpenter and mended
the Ida very creditably. Forrester was surly and avoided every one.
Harden was cheerful, as usual, but did not speak to his adversary. The
sun was just entering the Canyon when the two boats were launched and
once more faced the hazards of the river.
During the morning the going was easy. The river was swift and led
through a long series of broken buttes, between which one caught wild
views of a tortured country; twisted strata, strange distorted cedar
and cactus, uncanny shapes of rock pinnacles, in colors somber and
strange. They stopped at noon in the shadow of a weathered overhanging
rock, with the profile of a witch. The atmosphere of dissension had by
this time permeated the crew and this meal, usually so jovial, was
eaten with no general conversation and all were glad to take to the
boats as soon as the dishes were washed.
The character of the river now changed again. It grew broader and once
more smooth canyon walls closed it in. As the river broadened,
however, it became more shallow and rocks began to appear above the
surface at more and more frequent intervals. At last the Na-che went
aground amid-stream on a sharp rock. The Ida turned back to her
assistance but Enoch and Milton had to go overboard, along with the
crew of the Na-che, in order to drag and lift her into clear water.
Then for nearly two hours, all thought of rowing must be given up.
Both crews remained in the water, pushing the boats over the rough
bottom.
It was heartbreaking work. For a few moments the boats would float,
plunging the men beyond their depths. They would swim and flounder
perhaps a boat's length, clinging to the gunwale, before the boat would
once more run aground. Again they would drag their clumsy burden a
hundred yards over sand that sucked hungrily at their sodden boots.
This passed, came many yards of smooth rock a few inches below the
surface of the water, which was so muddy that it was impossible to see
the pot holes into which some one of the crew plunged constantly.
Jonas suffered agonies during this period; not for himself, though he
took his full share of falls. His agony was for the Na-che, whose
freshly painted bottom was abraded, scraped, gorged and otherwise
defaced almost beyond Jonas's power of endurance.
"Look out! Don't drag her! Lift her! Lift her!" he would shout.
"Oh, my Lord, see that sharp rock you drag her onto, Mr. Hard! Ain't
you got any heart?"
Once, when all three of the Na-che's crew had taken a bad plunge, and
Jonas had come up with an audible crack of his black head against the
gunwale, he began to scold while the others were still fighting for
breath.
"You shouldn't ship her full of water like that! All that good paint I
put on her insides is gone! Hey, Mr. Agnew, don't drip that blood off
your hand on her!"
"Shut up, Jonas," coughed Agnew good-naturedly.
"Let him alone, Ag!" exclaimed Harden, between a strangling cough and a
sneeze. "What do you want to divulge your cold-heartedness for? Go to
it, Jonas! You're some lover, all right!"
The shallows ended in a rapid which they shot without more than the
usual difficulties. They then had an hour of quiet rowing through
gorges that grew more narrow and more dusky as they proceeded. About
four o'clock snow began to fall. It was a light enough powder, at
first, but shortly it thickened until it was impossible to guide the
boats. They edged in shore where a ledge overhanging a heap of broken
rock offered a meager shelter. Here they planned to spend the night.
The shore was too precipitous to beach the boats. Much to Jonas'
sorrow, they could only anchor them before the ledge. There was plenty
of driftwood, and a brisk fire dispelled some of the discomfort of the
snow, while a change to dry clothing did the rest.
To Enoch it was a strange evening. The foolish quarrel between Harden
and Forrester was sufficient to upset the equanimity of the whole group
which before had seemed so harmonious. The situation was keenly
irritating to Enoch. He wanted nothing to intrude on the wild beauty
of the trip, save his own inward struggle. The snow continued to fall
long after the others had gone to sleep. Enoch, with his diary on his
knees, wrote slowly, pausing long between sentences to watch the snow
and to listen to the solemn rush of waters so close to his feet.
"I've been sitting before the fire, Diana, thinking of our various
conversations. How few they have been, after all! And I've concluded
that in your heart you must look on me as presumptuous and stupid. You
never have given me the slightest indication that you cared for me.
You have been, even in the short time we have known each other, a
gallant and tender friend. A wonderful friend! And you are as
unconscious of my passion for you, of the rending agony of my giving
you up as the Canyon is of the travail of Milton and his little group.
And I'm glad that this is so. If I can go on through life feeling that
you are serene and happy it will help me to keep my secret. Strange
that with every natural inclination within me to be otherwise, I should
be the custodian of ugly secrets; secrets that are only the uglier
because they are my own. It seems a sacrilegious thing to add my
beautiful love for you to the sinister collection. But it must be so.
"I am so glad that I am going to see you so soon after I emerge from
the Canyon. There will be much to tell you. I thought I knew men.
But I am learning them anew. And I thought I had a fair conception of
the wonders of the Colorado. Diana, it is beyond human imagination to
conceive or human tongue to describe."
Enoch had looked forward with eager pleasure to seeing the Canyon
snowbound. But he was doomed to disappointment. During the night the
snow turned to rain. The rain, in turn, ceased before dawn and the
camp woke to winding mists that whirled with the wind up and out of the
Canyon top. The going, during the morning, offered no great
difficulties. But toward noon, as the boats rounded a curve, a reef
presented itself with the water of the river boiling threateningly on
either side. As the Canyon walls offered no landing it was necessary
to make one here and Forrester volunteered to jump with a rope to a
flat rock which projected from the near end of the reef.
"Leap just before we are opposite the rock, Forr," directed Milton.
"When that rough water catches us, we're going to rip through at top
speed."
Forrester nodded and, after shipping his oars, he clambered up onto the
forward compartment.
"Now," shouted Milton.
Forrester leaped, jumped a little short, and splashed into the boiling
river. The Ida, in spite of Enoch madly backing water, shot forward,
dragging Forrester, who had not let go the rope, with her. Milton
relinquished the steering oar, dropped on his stomach on the
compartment deck, his arms over the stern, and began to haul with might
and main on the rope. Now and again Forrester, red and fighting for
breath, showed a distorted face above the waves. The Na-che shot by at
uncontrollable speed, her crew shouting directions as she passed.
Milton at last, just as the Ida entered a roaring fall, brought
Forrester to the gunwale, but having achieved this, the end of the rope
dropped from his fingers and he lay inert, his eyes closed. Forrester
clung to the edge of the boat and roared to Enoch:
"Milt's fainted!"
But Enoch, fighting to guide the Ida, dared not stop rowing. The falls
were short, with a vicious whirlpool at the foot. One glance showed
the Na-che broken and inverted, dancing in this. Enoch bent to his
right oar and by a miracle of luck this, with a wave from a pot hole,
threw them clear of the sucking whirlpool, but dashed them so violently
against the rocky shore that the Ida's stern was stove in and Milton
rolled off into the water. Enoch dropped his oars, seized the stern
rope, jumped for the rocks and sprawled upon one. He made a quick turn
of the rope, then leaped back for Milton, whose head showed a boat's
length downstream.
Forrester staggered ashore, then with a life preserver on the end of a
rope, he started along the river's edge. Half a dozen strokes brought
Enoch to Milton. He lifted the unconscious man's mouth out of water
and caught the life preserver that Forrester threw him. It seemed for
a moment as if poor Forrester had reached the limit of his strength,
but Enoch, after a violent effort, brought Milton into a quiet eddy and
here Forrester was able to give help and Milton was dragged up on the
rocks.
At this moment, Jonas, his eyes rolling, clothes torn and dripping,
clambered round a rocky projection, just beyond where they were placing
Milton.
"Got 'em ashore!" he panted, "but they can't walk yet."
"Anybody hurt?" asked Enoch.
"Nobody but the Na-che. I gotta take the Ida out after her."
"She's beyond help, Jonas," said Enoch. "Go up to the Ida and bring me
the medicine chest."
He was unbuttoning Milton's shirt as he spoke, and feeling for his
heart.
"He's alive!" exclaimed Forrester, who was holding Milton's wrist.
"Yes, thank God! But I don't like that!" pointing to Milton's left leg.
"It's broken!" cried Forrester. "Poor old Milt!"
Poor old Milt, indeed! When he finally opened his eyes, he was lying
on his blankets on a flat rock, and Jonas and Harden, still dripping,
were finishing the fastenings of a rude splint around his left leg.
Enoch was kindling a fire. Forrester and Agnew were unloading the Ida.
He tried to sit up.
"What the deuce happened?" he demanded.
"That's what we want to know!" exclaimed Harden cheerfully.
"You had a dizzy attack after you pulled Forr in," said Enoch, "and
rolled off the boat. Just how you broke your leg, we don't know."
"Broke my leg!" Dismay and disbelief struggled in Milton's face.
"Broke my leg! Why, but I can't break my leg!"
"That's good news," said Agnew unsmilingly, "and it would be important
if it were only true."
"But I can't!" insisted Milton. "What becomes of the work?"
"The work stops till you get well." Harden stood up to survey his and
Jonas's surgical job with considerable satisfaction. "We'll hurry on
down to the Ferry and get you to a doctor."
Milton sank back with a groan, then hoisted himself to his elbow to say:
"You fellows change your clothes quick, now."
The men looked at each other, half guilty.
"What is it!" cried Milton. "What are you keeping from me."
"The Na-che's gone!" Jonas spoke huskily.
"How'd she go?" demanded Milton.
"A sucking whirlpool up there took her, after we struck a rock at the
bottom of the falls," answered Harden. "We struck at such speed that
it stove in her bottom and threw us clear of the whirlpool. But she's
gone and everything in her."
"How about the Ida?" Milton's face was white and his lips were
compressed.
"She'll do, with some patching," replied Enoch.
"Some leader, I am, eh?" Milton lay back on his blanket.
"I think I've heard of a number of other leaders losing boats on this
trip," said Enoch. "Now, you fellows can dry off piecemeal. This fire
would dry anything. We've got to shift Milton's clothes somehow.
Lucky for you your clothes were in the Ida, Milt. Mine were in the
Na-che."
"And two thirds of the grub in the Na-che, too!" exclaimed Agnew.
Jonas had rooted out Milton's change of clothing and very tenderly, if
awkwardly, Agnew and Harden helping, he was made dry and propped up
where he could direct proceedings.
"Forrester, I wish you'd bring the whole grub supply here," Milton
said, when his nurses had finished.
It was a pitifully small collection that was placed on the edge of the
blanket.
"I wonder how many times," said Milton, "I've told you chaps to load
the grub half and half between the boats? Somebody blundered. I'm not
going to ask who because I'm the chief blunderer myself, for neglecting
to check you over, at every loading. With care, we've about two days'
very scanty rations here, and only beans and coffee, at that. With the
best of luck and no stops for Survey work we're five days from the
Ferry."
"Guess I'd better get busy with my fishing tackle!" exclaimed Forrester.
"Ain't any fishing tackle," said Jonas succinctly. "She must 'a'
washed out of the hole in the Ida. I was just looking for it myself."
"Suppose you put us on half rations," suggested Enoch, "and one of us
will try to get to the top, with the gun."
Milton nodded. "Judge, are you any good with a gun?"
"Yes, I've hunted a good deal," replied Enoch.
"Very well, we'll make you the camp hunter. The rest understand the
river work better than you. Forrester, you and Agnew and Jonas, patch
up the Ida; and Harden, you stay with me and let's see what the maps
say about the chances of our getting out before we reach the Ferry.
When the rest have finished the patch, you and Agnew row downstream and
see if you can pick up any wreckage from the Na-che."
Jonas made some coffee and Enoch, after resting for a half hour, took
the gun and started slowly along the river's edge.
His course was necessarily downstream for, above the heap of stones
where he had tied the Ida, the river washed against a wall on which a
fly could scarcely have found foothold. There was a depression in the
wall, where the camp was set. Enoch worked out of this depression and
found a foothold on the bottom-most of the deep weathered, narrow
strata that here formed a fifty-foot terrace. These terraced strata
gave back for half a mile in uneven and brittle striations that were
not unlike rude steps. Above them rose a sheer orange wall, straight
to the sky. Far below a great shale bank sloped from the river's edge
up to a gigantic black butte, whose terraced front seemed to Enoch to
offer some hope of his reaching the top.
He slung the gun across his back and began gingerly to clamber along
the stratified terrace. He found the rock extremely brittle and he was
a long hour reaching the green shale. He was panting and weary and his
hands were bleeding when he finally flung himself down to rest at the
foot of the black butte.
A near view of this massive structure was not encouraging; terraces,
turrets, fortifications, castles and above Enoch's head a deep cavern,
out of which the wind rushed with a mighty blast of sound that drowned
the sullen roar of the falls. Beyond a glance in at the black void,
Enoch did not attempt to investigate the cave. He crept past the
opening on a narrow shelf of rock, into a crevice up which he climbed
to the top of the terrace above the cavern. Here a stratum of dull
purple projected horizontally from the black face of the butte. With
his face inward, his breast hard pressed against the rock, hands and
feet feeling carefully for each shift forward, Enoch passed on this
slowly around the sharp western edge of the butte.
Here he nearly lost his balance, for there was a rush of wings close to
the back of his head. He started, then looked up carefully. Far above
him an eagle's nest clung to the lonely rock. The purple stratum
continued its way to a depression wide enough to give Enoch sitting
room. Here he rested for a short moment. The back of the depression
offered an easy assent for two or three hundred feet, to the top of
another terrace along whose broad top Enoch walked comfortably for a
quarter of a mile to the point where the butte projected from the main
canyon wall. The slope here was not too steep to climb and Enoch made
fair speed to the top.
The view here was superb but Enoch gave small heed to this. To his
deep disappointment, there was no sign of life, either animal or
vegetable, as far as his eye could reach. He stood, gun in hand, the
wind tossing his ruddy hair, his great shoulders drooping with
weariness, his keen eyes sweeping the landscape until he became
conscious that the sun was low in the west. With a start, he realized
that dusk must already be peering into the bottom of the Canyon.
Then he bethought himself of the eagle's nest. It was a terrible
climb, before he lay on a ledge peering ever into the guano-stained
structure of sticks from which the eagle soared again at his approach.
As he looked, he laughed. The forequarters of a mountain goat lay in
the nest. Hanging perilously by one hand, Enoch grasped the long,
bloody hair and then, rolling back on to the ledge, he stuffed his loot
into his game bag and started campward.
The way back was swifter but more nerve wracking than the upward climb
had been. By the time he reached the green shale, Enoch was trembling
from muscle and nerve strain. It was purple dusk now, by the river,
with the castellated tops of butte and mountain molten gold in the
evening sun. When he reached the brittle strata, the water reflected
firelight from the still unseen camp blaze. Enoch, clinging perilously
to the breaking rock, half faint with hunger, his fingers numb with the
cold, laughed again, to himself, and said aloud:
"'. . . . . . . . . . . . . And yet
Dauntless the slug horn to my lips I set
And blew, Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came.'"