_In Which a Bearer of Tidings Finds Himself In Peril of
His Life On a Ledge of Ice Above a Roaring Rapid_
"We passed that night at the cabin, where a roaring fire warmed me and
dried my clothes," David's friend continued. "My packet of letters was
safe and dry, so I slept in peace, and we were both as chirpy as
sparrows when we set out the next morning. It was a clear, still day,
with the sun falling warmly upon us.
"Our way now led through the bush for mile after mile--little hills
and stony ground and swamp-land. By noon we were wet to the knees; but
this circumstance was then too insignificant for remark, although
later it gave me the narrowest chance for life that ever came within
my experience.
"We made Swift Rapids late in the afternoon, when the sun was low and
a frosty wind was freezing the pools by the way. The post at Little
Lake lay not more than three miles beyond the foot of the rapids, and
when the swish and roar of water first fell upon our ears we hallooed
most joyfully, for it seemed to us that we had come within reaching
distance of our destination.
"'No,' said John, when we stood on the shore of the river.
"'I think we can,' said I.
"'No,' he repeated.
"The rapids were clear of ice, which had broken from the quiet water
above the verge of the descent, and now lay heaped up from shore to
shore, where the current subsided at the foot. The water was most
turbulent--swirling, shooting, foaming over great boulders. It went
rushing between two high cliffs, foaming to the very feet of them,
where not an inch of bank was showing. At first glance it was no
thoroughfare; but the only alternative was to go round the mountain,
as my father had said, and I had no fancy to lengthen my journey by
four hours, so I searched the shore carefully for a passage.
"The face of the cliff was such that we could make our way one hundred
yards down-stream. It was just beyond that point that the difficulty
lay. The rock jutted into the river, and rose sheer from it; neither
foothold nor handhold was offered. But beyond, as I knew, it would be
easy enough to clamber along the cliff, which was shelving and broken,
and so, at last, come to the trail again.
"'There's the trouble, John,' said I, pointing to the jutting rock.
'If we can get round that, we can go the rest of the way without any
difficulty.'
"'No go,' said John. 'Come.'
"He jerked his head towards the bush, but I was not to be easily
persuaded.
"'We'll go down and look at that place,' I replied. 'There may be a
way.'
"There was a way, a clear, easy way, requiring no more than a bit of
nerve to pass over it, and I congratulated myself upon persisting to
its discovery. The path was by a stout ledge of ice, adhering to the
cliff and projecting out from it for about eighteen inches. The river
had fallen. This ledge had been formed when it was at its highest, and
when the water had subsided the ice had been left sticking to the
rock. The ledge was like the rim of ice that adheres to a tub when a
bucketful of freezing water has been taken out.
"I clambered down to it, sounded it, and found it solid. Moreover, it
seemed to lead all the way round, broadening and narrowing as it went,
but wide enough in every part. I was sure-footed and unafraid, so at
once I determined to essay the passage. 'I am going to try it!' I
called to John, who was clinging to the cliff some yards behind and
above me. 'Don't follow until I call you.'
"'Look out!' said he.
"'Oh, it's all right,' I said, confidently.
"I turned my back to the rock and moved out, stepping sidewise. It
was not difficult until I came to a point where the cliff is
overhanging--it may be a space of twelve feet or less; then I had to
stoop, and the awkward position made my situation precarious in the
extreme, for the rock seemed all the while bent on thrusting me off.
"The river was roaring past. Below me the water was breaking over a
great rock, whence it shot, swift and strong, against a boulder which
rose above it. I could hear the hiss and swish and thunder of it; and
had I been less confident in my foothold, I might then and there have
been hopelessly unnerved. There was no mercy in those seething
rapids.
"'A fall would be the end of me,' I thought; 'but I will not fall.'
"Fall I did, however, and that suddenly, just after I had rounded the
point and was hidden from John's sight. The cold of the late afternoon
had frozen my boots stiff; they had been soaked in the swamp-lands,
and the water was now all turned to ice.
"My soles were slippery and my feet were awkwardly managed. I
slipped.
"My feet shot from under me. A flash of terror went through me. Then I
found myself lying on my hip, on the edge of the shelf with my legs
dangling over the rapids, my shoulder pressing the cliff, my hands
flat on the ice, and my arms sustaining nearly the whole weight of my
body.
"At that instant I heard a thud and a splash, as of something striking
the water, and turning my eyes, I perceived that a section of the snow
ledge had fallen from the cliff. It was not large, but it was between
John and me, and the space effectually shut him off from my
assistance.
"My problem was to get to my feet again. But how? The first effort
persuaded me that it was impossible. My shoulder was against the
cliff. When I attempted to raise myself to a seat on the ledge I
succeeded only in pressing my shoulder more firmly against the rock.
Wriggle as I would, the wall behind kept me where I was. I could not
gain an inch. I needed no more, for that would have relieved my arms
by throwing more of my weight upon my hips.
"I was in the position of a boy trying to draw himself to a seat on a
window-sill, with the difference that my heels were of no help to me,
for they were dangling in space. My arms were fast tiring out. The
inch I needed for relief was past gaining, and it seemed to me then
that in a moment my arms would fail me, and I should slip off into the
river.
"'Better go now,' I thought, 'before my arms are worn out altogether.
I'll need them for swimming.'
"But a glance down the river assured me that my chance in the rapids
would be of the smallest. Not only was the water swift and turbulent,
but it ran against the barrier of ice at the foot of the rapids, and
it was evident that it would suck me under, once it got me there.
"Nor was there any hope in John's presence. I had told him to stay
where he was until I called; and, to be sure, in that spot would he
stay. I might call now. But to what purpose? He could do nothing to
help me. He would come to the gap in the ledge, and from there peep
sympathetically at me. Indeed, he might reach a pole to me, as he had
done on the day before, but my hands were fully occupied, and I could
not grasp it. So I put John out of my mind,--for even in the
experience of the previous day I had not yet learned my lesson,--and
determined to follow the only course which lay open to me, desperate
though it was.
"'I'll turn on my stomach,' I thought, 'and try to get to my knees on
the ledge.'
"I accomplished the turn, but in the act I so nearly lost my hold that
I lost my head, and there was a gasping lapse of time before I
recovered my calm.
"In this change I gained nothing. When I tried to get to my knees I
butted my head against the overhanging rock, nor could I lift my foot
to the ice and roll over on my side, for the ledge was far too narrow
for that. I had altered my position, but I had accomplished no change
in my situation. It was impossible for me to rest more of my weight
upon my breast than my hips had borne. My weakening arms still had to
sustain it, and the river was going its swirling way below me, just as
it had gone in the beginning. I had not helped myself at all.
"There was nothing for it, I thought, but to commit myself to the
river and make as gallant a fight for life as I could. So at last I
called John, that he might carry our tidings to their destination and
return to Fort Red Wing with news of a sadly different kind.
"'Ho!' said John.
"He was staring round the point of rock; and there he stood, unable to
get nearer.
"'Ice under,' said he, indicating a point below me. 'More ice. Let
down.'
"'What?' I cried. 'Where?'
"'More ice. Down there,' said he. 'Like this. Let down.'
"Then I understood him. Another ledge, such as that upon which I hung,
had been formed in the same way, and was adhering to the rock beneath.
No doubt there was a pool on the lower side of the point, and just
below me, and the current would be no obstacle to the formation of
ice. I had looked down from above, and the upper ledge had hidden the
lower from me; but John, standing by the gap in the upper, could see
it plainly.
"So I had but to let myself down until my feet rested on the new
ledge, and this I did, with extreme caution and the expenditure of the
last ounce of strength in my arms. Then a glance assured me that the
way was clear to the shelving cliff beyond.
"'You go,' said John. 'I go round.'
"'All right,' said I. 'And, say! I wish I'd called you before.'
"'Ho!' said he, as he vanished.
"When John reached the Little Lake post late that night, the tidings
of the safe return of the Hudson Bay Geological Expedition were on the
way south by another messenger, and the company's physician was moving
over the trail towards Fort Red Wing, making haste to the aid of the
young professor, whom, indeed, he soon brought back to health. The
passage by the ledge of ice had resulted in a gain of three hours, but
whether or not it saved the professor's life I do not know. I do not
think it did. It nearly cost me mine, but I had no thought of that
when I essayed it, so my experience reflects no credit upon me
whatever. I take fewer rash and reckless chances now on land and
water, and I am not so overreliant upon my own resources.
"I have learned that a friend's help is of value."
At that moment the Ruddy Cove mail-boat entered the Tickle.