DOWN THE SLOPE.
"The first thing, then, is to toss this feller overboard," remarked
Step Hen, as he proudly touched the dead big-horn with the toe of his
shoe, and tried to assume the air of a conquering hero; but his face
was so sore, and his appearance so remarkable, that apparently his
manner did not impress the guide very much.
"The sooner you get to water, and wash them scratches, the better,"
said Toby. "I've knowed more'n one feller have a bad time from gettin'
clawed by eagles; and the doctor said as how 'twar blood
poisonin'-like. But seems to me most of that might a kim from you
bein' hit by their wings."
"Just what it did," replied Step Hen, though he looked a bit anxious.
"And goodness gracious! how they could hit with 'em, though. Felt like
you'd run against an electric fan, or something like that. Busted the
skin every time too, and made the blood come. But never mind about
that, Toby; shall I shove this thing over now?"
"Just as you say," replied the guide; "we'll be apt to find it when we
get down; which I hope we can do and be safe, and sound in limb."
Apparently Toby was a little anxious himself about the result of the
next step on the programme. The scout accordingly worked the dead
sheep loose, and cast it over the edge. He watched it go bounding down
with considerable apprehension that the other did not comprehend,
until he heard Step Hen remark in a relieved tone:
"Didn't break either horn; that's all hunky dory!"
"Don't you think we ort to let the rest know what we're expectin' to
do?" suggested the guide just then.
"Why, that's a good idea, Toby," replied Step Hen. "And while we
can't see our chums, there's a way of communicatin' with 'em. Anyhow,
I c'n tell 'em to send down a piece of string, and pull up a message
I'll write. Davy Jones knows the code enough for that."
He began making a series of queer sounds, that at first considerably
amused the old guide; but when an answer came from far above, Toby
realized that there did promise to be more merit in the signal code of
the scouts.
Then a little later Step Hen exclaimed triumphantly:
"Here comes the end of the string, Toby, with a stone tied to it. If
they can swing it in now, we'll be able to fasten this message I've
written to the end of it, and send it up. Then the boys will know what
we expect to do; and they'll try and get down some other way, to join
us before night comes on. Because it'd be kind of tough if we couldn't
bunk together through the night."
After some manipulation with the piece of broken branch they succeeded
in getting hold of the dangling cord, which Smithy had carried along
with him, because of some reason or other, possibly from the same
principle that caused Bumpus to carry that rope around wherever he
went, thinking that it might come in handy sometime or other.
Having dispatched the note to the other scouts by means of the cord
channel, Step Hen and the guide started to descend from their perch.
The way was anything but easy, especially to the boy. He had been
weakened more than he realized by his hard struggle with those two
fierce eagles. And perhaps his numerous wounds, slight as they seemed
on the surface, made him less capable of keeping such a firm grip as
he had before reaching the ledge. But the same old indomitable pluck
held good. When a drop of perspiration, mingled with blood from those
scratches, dimmed his vision, Step Hen would dash one hand impatiently
across his eyes, and then go right on clambering downward.
Toby kept as near the boy as he could. Had he possessed a rope he
would certainly have fastened himself to Step Hen, as a means of
protecting the lad against an ugly fall; just as the glacier climbers
do when ascending to the snow-covered summit of some lofty mountain
peak; so that should one slip, another, having a firm hold at the
time, could bear him up.
Again and again he cautioned his companion against trusting his weight
on some inviting projecting knob of stone, which he himself had tried,
and found wanting; for the guide had insisted on going first as a sort
of pilot; when his real object was to be in position to clutch hold of
the boy, if possible, should Step Hen make a bad move and fall.
But they finally managed to reach the bottom without any accident
happening, for which both of them were thankful enough. They threw
themselves upon the rocks, utterly exhausted, and panting for breath.
Step Hen was indeed very near a complete collapse; for the boy had
been under a terrible strain recently, both mentally and bodily.
After a little, however, when he had pumped much good air into his
system, and regained some of his lost breath, Step Hen remembered.
"I hadn't ought to be lyin' around this way, when those fellers up
yonder are all tied up in knots waitin' to know whether we've made the
riffle, or got stuck part way down. So here goes to tell 'em. They
know from my note what we want 'em to try and do next."
So he started in again with those queer sounds that seemed to climb up
the face of the cliff as though on ladders that were invisible. And
there came back similar sounds, which Step Hen listened to with
eagerness, finally crying out:
"They understand that we're safe down here; and Davy says as how he
thinks he knows a way to work around. And now, since we've got some time
on our hands, Toby, let's look about for a place to spend the night."
But Toby had not forgotten something that he had spoken of before.
"As for the camp, I'll take keer of that," he said; "while you drop
down aside this leetle crick here, and wash your face and hands. The
sooner ye git them 'ere scratches clean, the better, I reckon. Heaps
of trouble kin grow out of a little keerlessness in that regard."
"I guess you're right," replied Step Hen, trying to make a grimace,
but without much success, because the blood had dried on his face, and
made it feel as stiff as though it had been duly starched on a washday
at home.
So he complied with the ruling of the guide; and while the cool water
made his cuts smart more or less, to begin with, still there was a
sense of satisfaction in the cleanly feeling that soon followed.
When he got back to the side of the guide again Step Hen discovered
that Toby had found the place he was looking for, close to where the
big-horn lay. Already smoke was beginning to rise, showing that
Giraffe might not be the only one in the party who knew just how to go
about making a cooking fire.
The scout watched Toby with considerable interest. He learned that
when a man has lived all his life in the borderland, he has picked up
a good many useful little wrinkles that a wideawake scout ought to
know; and Step Hen determined to profit by his experience in the
company of Toby Smathers.
Besides, now that all the excitement was over, Step Hen secretly
confessed to feeling more or less tired; though had any of his mates
been around, he would doubtless have scorned to display this fact. It
was nice to just stretch out by the cheery blaze, and see some one
else quite willing to do the work.
The guide was only too glad to assume all the burden of getting
supper, such as it promised to be. Secretly he was proud of Step Hen.
He had started in with rather a poor opinion of the boy's qualities,
and thought him given somewhat to boasting, and practical jokes. But
he had found that he was full of grit, gave promise of being a good
hunter, and was ready to attempt any sort of task, it mattered not how
difficult.
The way Step Hen fought those two eagles, alone and unaided, on that
narrow ledge, had aroused the ardent admiration of Toby. While he
worked, he cast many a secret glance toward where Step Hen was
stretched out; and each time the guide would give a little satisfied
nod, and a chuckle, just as though he were passing a critical
judgment, and saying to himself:
"All wool, and a yard wide; he'll do, I sure reckons. He's got the
real stuff in him, anybody with one eye kin see. And I'm sure goin' to
tell Mr. Scout Master that same, too. He deserves to be put up a few
notches arter this."
Could Step Hen but have read what was passing through Toby's mind just
then, he would have thrilled with deepest satisfaction. Why, the
laurel wreath of the victor could not have given him one half the
solid pleasure that would come could he but know he had won the
admiration of this experienced forest ranger, and trapper-guide.
Meanwhile, after he had the cooking fire under full way, Toby
proceeded to skin the Rocky mountain sheep, making sure to handle the
excellent horns carefully, as Step Hen begged, since they were almost
perfect.
"He ain't a youngster, and at the same time he don't seem to be so
_very_ old," the guide remarked, as he worked, cutting up the sheep;
"so, p'raps we kin get our teeth workin' on him some. I never was much
of a hand for this sorter meat; but in such a pinch as this I kin eat
even mutton. Anyhow, it'll sure keep us from goin' hungry, and that's
the game right now. I hopes as how the other boys kin get here afore
dark sets in."
"That makes me remember I'm neglecting my duty; because I ought to be
lettin' out a whoop now and then, just to sort of guide Davy and
Smithers."
With that Step Hen managed to get to his feet, though he was surprised
to find how stiff he had become, just sitting there. Toby grinned to
see him wince, as he stretched first one arm, and then a leg. He knew
what it meant. The strain of the recent engagement on the ledge,
besides all that hanging desperately to the face of the precipice,
was telling on the boy's muscles.
When Step Hen let out a loud cry, he was pleased to get a response in
the well-known voice of Davy Jones. The call came from a point not far
away, and Toby immediately declared that the other scouts must be
about half-way down.
"They're agoin' to make it, all right, I do believe!" Step Hen
exclaimed.
"Looks that way, for a fact," the guide responded.
The day was almost done, at least down at the foot of that great wall
that stretched upward for hundreds of feet. Lying there, resting the
back of his head on both hands, and looking upward to where some
buzzards were wheeling against the sky, Step Hen could hardly believe
that he had actually descended all that distance in safety. He
shuddered as he contemplated what an ugly tumble he must have
experienced, if those fighting eagles had succeeded in knocking him
off the ledge.
And just as the shades of approaching night began to gather around
them, with a rather appetizing odor from cooking meat filling the
immediate neighborhood, there came a hail from a point close at hand.
"Hello! there, glad to see you're able to sit up, and take notice,
after all the row you kicked up. First thing Smithy and me want to
know is, what under the sun was it all about?" and with these words
the two scouts staggered into camp, throwing themselves wearily down
beside their chum.