MOUNTAIN OF DISTRESS
“He’s killed! He’s killed!” wailed Emma.
“Do something! Hippy, why don’t you do something?” urged Nora
hysterically.
“If you will tell me what to do I’ll try. Stacy is probably done for. No
one could take that drop and live,” answered Lieutenant Wingate.
“We must make an effort, Hip,” answered Tom.
“I trust to Stacy’s luck to get him through, but please make haste,”
begged Grace.
“How?” demanded Tom.
“Climb down the way we came up. In that way we shall be able to see what
lies beyond the slope on which he slid down,” suggested Grace Harlowe.
The Overlanders moved with one accord, sliding and stumbling over their
trail as they descended, keeping their gaze to the right of them in hope
of seeing Stacy. The fat boy, however, was not yet within view, and they
looked aghast at the side of the mountain down which he had fallen.
“You see,” said Tom, nodding to Grace. “No hope at all.”
“I don’t agree with you. Hark!” Grace held up a warning hand.
“I hear it! It’s Stacy! It’s Stacy!” yelled Lieutenant Wingate. “Where
are you?”
They caught the fat boy’s reply, but failed to understand what he said.
That did not matter. The great truth was that he was still alive.
“Where are you?” roared Hippy.
The reply was a long-drawn-out howl.
“He is somewhere below us,” announced Tom. “Let us get further down. His
being alive passes all comprehension.”
The Overlanders climbed down over the rocks, making all haste, all
watching eagerly for a sight of the unfortunate Stacy. Now and then one
of them would shout, and the answer that came back each time seemed
nearer than before. At last Stacy’s voice sounded directly to the right
of them. Grace focused her binoculars on a ribbon of green bushes in a
crevice in the rocks below.
“I see him!” she cried. “He is just beyond the middle of those bushes.”
“Are you hurt?” called Tom Gray.
“I—I’m killed,” wailed the fat boy. “Get me out of this.”
“How long can you hold on?” demanded Elfreda.
“Until the bushes give way. Roots are loose now,” wailed Stacy. “You’ll
have to hurry.”
“Get the ropes,” urged Grace.
“We can’t reach him with a rope from here,” answered Tom.
“Oh, Hippy, what can we do?” moaned Nora. “If he lets go he will be
dashed to death.” Elfreda, who had been calmly surveying the scene,
recommended that they all return to the point from which Stacy fell, and
descend the slope on the other side.
“I think that, if we can get down on that side, we shall be near enough
to be able to cast a rope to him,” she said.
The two men agreed with her, and, after telling Stacy what they proposed
to do, all hands began clambering up the mountain again. Reaching their
former position, it was seen that the route they had planned to follow
to reach Stacy would be perilous. Tom said the girls must remain where
they were while he and Hippy made the descent.
The Overlanders had two ropes, Grace’s lariat, and a small Manila rope
that they always carried on their mountain climbs. These ropes Tom and
Hippy took with them and began cautiously picking their way down the
rocks on the right-hand side of the slope. It took them nearly an hour
to reach a point opposite the boy.
“Are you there, Chunky?” shouted Tom.
“Part of me is. The rest is dangling. If you don’t hurry I’ll soon be a
hamburger steak at the base of the mountain.”
“Hold up your hand so we may see where you are,” directed Tom.
Stacy thrust a cautious hand from the bushes, then as cautiously
withdrew it, but the two Overlanders saw it.
“Listen, boy!” called Tom. “We are going to try to cast a rope to you,
but do not make a quick move in grabbing it. Once you have the rope in
your hands, pass it about your body under the arms and tie it securely;
then, when we give the word, let go of your support. We will do the
rest. Understand?”
“Yes.”
Tom made a cast, but the rope fell far short of the mark. He made
several other attempts, failing each time.
“Let me try it,” requested Lieutenant Wingate. Before casting. Hippy
tied a small stone to the end of the rope, then swinging six feet or so
of the rope in the air, he let go. The stone plunked into the bushes.
A mighty howl from Stacy greeted the throw. The stone had hit the fat
boy a glancing blow.
“I’m killed!” yelled Stacy. “You hit me.”
“Grab it!” shouted Tom. “Make fast and do it right. You aren’t much hurt
or you couldn’t yell like that. Let us know when you are ready.”
Several moments elapsed before Stacy announced that he had fastened the
rope about him as directed. Having to work with one hand, while he clung
to his supports with the other, made slow work for the boy.
“If you are positive that you are well tied up, let go and don’t be
frightened if you slide a little. We shan’t let you go far,” encouraged
Hippy as Tom took hold of the rope with him.
“Let go!” ordered Tom Gray.
There followed a moment of hesitation, then a violent tug on the rope,
accompanied by a howl from Stacy Brown as he released his hold on the
bushes, and felt himself sliding down the mountain-side. He was brought
up with a jolt, and skidded dizzily sideways as the rope grew taut.
“Let go! You’re taking the breath out of me!” he begged in a gasping
yell. Stacy had tied a slip-knot which now held him in a vise-like grip.
“Take hold of the rope with both hands and pull. That will relieve the
strain,” advised Tom. “We will have you up here in a few moments.”
It was a bruised and battered Overland Rider that Tom and Hippy dragged
up a few minutes later, Stacy Brown gasping and moaning.
“Stop it!” commanded Tom sternly. “You should be thankful that you are
alive.”
“I’m not alive. I’m dead from the neck down,” protested Stacy.
After the boy had been permitted to rest for a short time, the two
started up the mountain-side with him. They made him walk, but assisted
him most of the way.
Chunky met an enthusiastic welcome when he reached the girls. They made
him comfortable on blankets while the party consulted as to what should
be done, for night was rapidly approaching.
“Shall we go on to the top?” asked Elfreda who had been examining Stacy.
“Our patient is perfectly able to travel.”
“No!” replied Tom Gray with emphasis. “Personally, I have had enough.”
Grace expressed some disappointment, but said she would defer to the
decision of the others.
“I am for going down instead of up,” spoke up Emma. “Of course I am not
afraid, but I fear Chunky will surely get himself and us into more
difficulties. The poor child has had enough for one day.”
Emma’s companions agreed with her, but Stacy did not. He said that timid
girls like Emma might be afraid to climb to the top of Electric Peak,
but that men felt no such fears.
“Of course you do not include yourself in that group,” answered Emma
without even looking towards Stacy. “A little more electrifying might do
you good.”
“I’ve got too much electricity already. I’m full of it,” averred Stacy,
sitting up. “When I get back to Chillicothe, Missouri, I’m going to rent
myself out to the traction company to furnish power for the street cars,
I am.”
“Don’t do it,” begged Emma. “You surely would fall off your trolley so
often that the line would be perpetually blocked.”
Groans greeted Emma’s retort.
“I am amazed at you, Emma,” reproved Grace.
“And I blush for you,” added J. Elfreda Briggs.
“Blush for Chunky. He cannot do it for himself,” retorted Emma. “What
are we to do—go up or down or remain where we are?”
Grace suggested that they descend and spend the night where they had
camped the previous might.
“What! Get caught between a couple of sizzlers as we did last night?”
demanded Chunky.
“We will go down. It really is not prudent to remain here,” replied Tom.
“Yes. Chunky has accumulated so much electricity that we Overlanders are
in danger of being struck by lightning most any time now,” averred Emma.
“Pack up and get going,” urged Lieutenant Wingate.
A few moments later the party was picking its way down the
mountain-side. The nerves of each member of the Overland outfit were on
edge, and Stacy Brown was nursing the many bruises that he had sustained
in his tumble. Going down, while not such hard work, was attended with
much more difficulty than had been the ascent. Now and then someone
would lose his foothold and have a tumble. Fortunately, nothing worse
than a few bruises and black and blue spots resulted from these tumbles.
The Overlanders laughed at their mishaps, especially at the fat boy’s,
for Stacy got more falls than any of the others and his clothes suffered
proportionately.
Darkness overtook the Overland party ere they could locate their camp
where Badger was awaiting them, so they decided to make camp where they
were. A small cooking fire was built and dinner cooked; then, being
thoroughly worn out from their trying experiences, they rolled up in
their blankets on the ground and went to sleep, not to awaken until the
sun blazed down into their faces next morning. An early start for camp
was made, but as they progressed and failed to discover it, they began
to wonder that they saw no smoke signals from Jim Badger. About
mid-afternoon, however, a thin spiral of white smoke was discovered some
distance to the right of them.
“There’s the place,” announced Tom.
Hippy was of the opinion that it was not their camp.
“Of course it is,” answered Grace. “We are a long way out of our course,
and we don’t know the trail at all, so watch your step, folks.”
Thus warned, the Overland Riders exercised more care. Fortunately, none
got bad falls, but the going was difficult, and they were frequently
obliged to rest. It was a weary and much mussed-up party that dragged
itself into camp, shouting halloos to warn the guide of their approach.
“I’m starved! Got anything loose about this camp?” cried Chunky, as the
weary girls threw themselves down uttering sighs of relief.
“Water’s boilin’. It’s been boilin’ since yesterday. I’ll have coffee
for you right smart. Where you folks been all the time?”
“We’ve been up in Nature’s electric plant. Hurry if you expect to save
my life. I’m near dead. Even my brain has ceased to operate,” declared
Stacy.
“He has just discovered it,” murmured Emma wearily. “The poor child!”
“What happened?” questioned Badger, frying-pan in hand.
“Not a word until I get something inside of me,” insisted the fat boy.
“What I need most of all is—”
“Have you any calves’ brains, Mr. Badger?” questioned Emma sweetly.
“Now, Emma! That wasn’t nice of you,” protested Nora, amid laughter.
“If you are in such haste why not turn to and help Jim get luncheon?”
suggested Grace.
“I tell you I have a weak heart. You know I can’t stand violent
exercise,” replied Stacy, throwing himself down by the campfire.
The Overlanders shook their heads.
“Hopeless!” muttered Tom.
“We propose to move immediately,” Grace informed the guide. “Is there
any news?”
“Yes, I reckon there is,” answered the guide rather hesitatingly, Grace
thought. “Two fellers has been watchin’ this camp since yesterday, and I
reckon they ain’t doin’ it for any good. That ain’t all, either. There’s
more news. There’s been another robbery down to the Springs Hotel, and
mebby they think we did it.”