A CRY ACROSS THE WATER
"If we kin, we must reach Hishu afore Windy Pete gits thar."
It was Buckskin Dan who spoke as he and the constable swung on their way
the morning after the night of alarms. They were returning by a
different trail, which would bring them to the river a few miles below
Hishu. Along this route was a high range of hills where mountain sheep
were plentiful. Here they expected to bag a tender lamb to take back
with them to the village.
"Yes," continued Dan, "we must git that fust, an' then find out fer
sartin if Pete was that skunk wot distarbed us last night."
"We'll have to do some hustling, then," Grey replied. "If we stop for
game it will make us late."
"Can't be helped, pardner. Grub's mighty low with me jist now, an' if we
don't git it to-day, it'll mean another trip to-morrer, an' I don't like
to leave Hishu too often jist at present."
Thus for hours they continued on their way, stopping only once by a
small brook to eat their last morsel of food. The afternoon was well
advanced as the long terrace-like range loomed up before them on their
right.
"Should find some sheep over thar," remarked the trapper. "Guess we'd
better leave the trail, and circle yon knoll. Thar's good feedin' ground
on t'other side."
Slowly and cautiously they wound their way over broken and twisted
rocks, keeping a sharp look-out the while. Creeping guardedly about the
side of a hill, with a deep gulch below, they beheld a small flock of
sheep feeding calmly several hundred yards away. To Grey it seemed cruel
to disturb that peaceful scene. He thought of the assailant stealing
upon him in the dead of night, and here he was doing the same to these
harmless creatures. But Buckskin Dan evidently had no such qualms of
conscience. He needed meat, and the sheep were there for man's use, so
that was sufficient. Speedily he advanced, gliding from rock to rock
with such agility that Grey, nimble though he was, found it difficult to
follow. At length they were forced to creep upon all fours, and when at
last they were as close as prudence allowed the trapper took careful aim
at a small-sized sheep and fired. The animal gave one great leap into
the air, and then dropped to the ground. Its companions, terror
stricken, gazed for an instant in the direction from whence the report
had come, and then fled wildly across the open space and disappeared
like magic among the rocks.
"I've snipped that critter fer sure," Dan remarked, "so I'll jist dodge
over an' bring it back."
But this was easier said than done, for they found after they had gone
a short distance that the rocks sloped down to the very edge of the
precipice like one side of the roof of a house, about fifteen feet in
width. Leaving his rifle behind, Dan slowly made his way along the
narrow ledge, holding on carefully to the wall towering above. A sharp
point jutting out partly barred his progress and as he attempted to go
around this his foot lost its hold, and he found himself slipping down
the sloping rock, which had been worn smooth by wind and rain. With a
cry of terror he clutched frantically for something upon which to fasten
his fingers. But not an object could be found. Down and down he moved,
and when it seemed as if in another instant he must be hurled to
immediate death his hand touched a jagged fissure in the surface. How
his tense fingers did dig into the friendly crevice as he hung over that
awful place. Below yawned the gulf; above stretched the merciless rock.
So quickly had all this taken place that Grey had hardly time to think,
much less to act. A numbing horror overspread his whole body as he
watched his companion moving down to apparent destruction. But when he
saw him gripping so desperately to the rent in the rock he quickly
roused to action. He looked about for something to stretch out to his
helpless partner. But not a branch or sapling could he behold--nothing
that would serve his purpose. He looked far down into the valley; he
might get something there. But it would take considerable time to go
and return, and in the meantime what would happen to Dan!
"How long can you hold on?" he called.
"'Bout a minute," came the weak reply. "Me fingers are 'most broke. Fer
God's sake do somethin', an' do it quick!"
Then Grey acted. He tore off the buckskin jacket he was wearing, which
Dan had loaned him, and gave it a most vigorous pull to test its
endurance. Next he unbuckled the cartridge belt which encircled his
waist. Tying one end of this to a sleeve of the jacket he fastened the
other end securely about his ankle. Finding a suitable stone lying near,
with some difficulty he made it fast to the second sleeve of the jacket.
This accomplished he stretched himself carefully down the rocky incline,
and holding on firmly with one hand to the point of a jagged flinty
rift, with the other he let out his improvised rope of salvation. The
weight of the stone bore it steadily toward the clinging trapper. Would
it reach? And if so would it be strong enough? Dan saw it coming, and a
gleam of hope came into his faded eyes. But alas! it was still too far
away.
"Let her out some more," he shouted. "I can't tech it yit."
Then Grey stretched himself out full length, and with both hands gripped
the rock above. It was all that was needed. Dan's tired fingers closed
eagerly upon the sleeve of the jacket. He tested its strength ere
letting go of his old precarious support. Finding that it held firm he
committed himself to its keeping, and slowly and painfully made his way
foot by foot up from that dizzy, frowning ledge. Neither Grey nor Dan
spoke. The silence was intense. Would the connecting link hold? Would it
bear the strain to the end? Grey could feel the weight attached to his
leg, but could not see how his comrade was progressing. He half expected
at any instant to hear the jacket or belt give way. The perspiration
stood in great beads upon his forehead, and he almost held his breath in
the intenseness of the moment. But when he felt Dan's hand laid with a
mighty grip upon his other leg, and knew that the old man was scrambling
quickly up by the side of his body to a place of safety, a great sigh of
relief escaped his lips. It did not take him long to draw himself up
from his own perilous position after the weight had been removed.
"God bless ye, pardner!" Dan cried, reaching out a large horny hand.
"How kin I ever thank ye fer wot ye've done fer me to-day?"
Grey silently grasped the extended member. Words would not come. His
heart was too full for utterance.
The trapper stooped down, and slowly unfastened the buckskin jacket from
the leathern belt. He next held it up in both hands, and examined it
carefully.
"It stood the test well, that's wot it did," he remarked. "Never thought
when I made it that it 'ud be the means of savin' me life."
"And did you make this yourself?" Grey inquired with surprise.
"Sartin, every stitch of it. It's not made with yer measly fancy
thread, either, but with good stout raw hide. But even that wouldn't
have borne the strain if it hadn't been fer somethin' else which made it
strong."
"What was that, Dan?"
"'Twas the good Lord, that's who it was. As I kneeled thar in that awful
place, with only that slender thing to keep me from death, I thought how
I uster kneel at me mother's knees when a little child. It's been sich a
long time sence I said a prayer that I didn't know what to say. But I
remembered the prayer she taught me then, an' as I struggled up that
rock with me hands clingin' to this jacket I said over in me mind,
Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord me soul to keep.
It wasn't altogether suitable, I own, but it was wonderful comfortin',
an' I think the Lord knew wot I meant jist as well as if it had been a
long one an' fixed up with fine words. But, thar, I've talked 'bout
enough. We must git away from here, an' hike it home as fast as we kin.
It's gittin' late, an' I'm afeered we can't reach Hishu afore dark."
"But what about the sheep?" Grey questioned. "Are we to leave it
behind?"
"Sartin. Not another step do I take after the critter. It nearly cost me
me life, an' I don't venture over yon place ag'in. It's too long a way
round, an' not worth the trouble. So come, let's git."
The sun had disappeared behind a tall mountain peak as they descended
the slope leading to the river. Here they struck upon a well-beaten
trail leading to the village. Along this they sped through the steadily
deepening twilight.
Suddenly across the water came a piercing cry which stayed their steps
and held them spellbound. Again and again it came, and then all was
still. It was a cry for help. There was no doubt about that. Grey's
heart beat tumultuously, and an horrible dread overwhelmed him. It was a
woman's voice, and it sounded like Madeline's! Springing quickly up the
bank at the side of the trail he peered over the tops of the trees, and
there out in the stream he caught one fleeting glimpse of a canoe ere it
swung around a bend in the river and disappeared from view.
"It's the lassie! It's the lassie!" cried Dan, who had sprung to his
side. "Thar's somethin' wrong."
"My God, yes!" Grey replied. "What can we do, oh, what can we do?
There's some villainy in this! Do you think they've taken the boy, too?"
"Can't tell. But we must git into Hishu as fast as our legs'll take us,
an' find out fer sartin."
Grey waited to hear no more. He leaped down the bank and hurried along
the trail. That wild pathetic cry for help still rang in his ears.
Madeline was in trouble, in danger! That was enough. Forgotten now were
his old doubts and fears. He thought of her only as of old. His steps
quickened to a trot as he neared the village, then to a run. Down the
trail he sped like a greyhound, with Dan following pantingly some
distance behind. He flew by the trapper's cabin, the store and the
cluster of deserted shacks. He dashed across the open, reached Old Meg's
house, beat upon the door, pushed it open, and sprang into the room.
"Where is she?" he cried. "What has happened? For God's sake tell me,
quick!"
Little wonder that Meg started back with surprise, mingled with fear, at
this sudden intrusion and the towering form standing before her. Grey's
unshaven face was drawn and haggard, while his eyes glowed with a light
of wild intensity.
"Where is she?" he demanded. "Why don't you speak?"
"W-what do you mean?" the woman replied. She felt there must be some
reason for Grey's excited manner. It disconcerted her, leaving her much
confused.
"I want to know what has become of Miss Normsell, who has been staying
with you, and also the boy? Where are they? Do you know?"
"They went for a stroll to the river some time ago, and should be back
by now. It's getting late."
"To the river? My God!" cried Grey. "Then it was Madeline! She's gone,
and the boy, too! There's some foul plot."
Grey asked no more questions. He stared for an instant at Old Meg, then
turned and left the building, leaving the woman gazing wonderingly after
him.