THE LITTLE SMOKY
Pure madness poured into the brain of Red Perris as he saw the fall.
Here, then was the end of the trail, and that great battle would never
be fought. Groaning he rode to the bank of the stream, mechanically
gathering up the rope as he went.
He saw below him nothing but the rush of water, white riffles showing
its speed. An occasional dark steak whirled past--the trunks of trees
which the Little Smoky had chewed away from their foothold on its
sides. Doubtless one of these burly missiles had struck and instantly
killed the stallion.
But no, yonder his head broke above the surface--a great log flung
past him, missing the goal by inches--a whirl in the current rolled
him under,--but up he came again, swimming gallantly. The selfish rage
which had consumed Red Perris broke out in words. Down the bank he
trotted the buckskin, shaking his fist at Alcatraz and pouring the
stream of his curses at that devoted head. Was this the reward of
labor, the reward of pain and patience through all the weeks, the
sleepless nights, the weary days?
"Drown, and be damned!" shouted Red Perris, and as if in answer, the
body of the stallion rose miraculously from the stream and the hunter
gasped his incredulity. Alcatraz was facing up stream, half his body
above the surface.
The explanation was simple. At this point the Little Smoky abated its
speed a little and had dropped a load of rolling stones and sand. An
hour later it might be washed away, but now it made a strong bank
with the current skimming above the surface. On this the stallion had
struck, and whirling with the current he faced towards the source of
the valley and looked into the volleying waters. Here, surely, was a
sight to make a weakling tremble. But to the astonishment of Perris,
he saw the head of the stallion raised, and the next moment the
thunder of his neigh rang high above the voices of the river, as
though he bade defiance to his destroyer, as though he called on the
God of Gods to bear witness that he died without fear.
"By the Eternal!" breathed Red Perris, smitten with awe, and the next
instant, the ground giving way beneath him, Alcatraz was bowled over
and over, only to come up again farther down the stream.
He turned his head. Far away he made out a line of horsemen--grey,
ghostly figures miles away. Hervey was keeping to his word, then.
But the thought of his own danger did not hold Red Jim Perris for a
moment. Down there in the thundering water Alcatraz was dying!
The heart of Red Perris went out to the dauntless chestnut. He spurred
down the bank until he was even with the struggler. He swayed far out,
riding the mustang so near the brink that the poor creature
shuddered. He capped his hands about his lips and the hunter screamed
encouragement to the hunted, yelled advice, shrieked his warnings when
treetrunks hurtled from behind.
It seemed to Red Perris that Alcatraz was not a brute beast but a soul
about to perish. So much do brave men love courage! Then he saw, a
hundred yards away, that the bank of the stream fell away until it
became a gradually shoaling beach to the water edge. With a shout of
hope he raced to this point of vantage and flung himself from the
saddle. Then, grasping the rope, he ran into the stream until it
foamed with staggering force about his hips.
But would Alcatraz live among those sweeping treetrunks and come
within casting distance of the rope? Even if he did, would the rope
catch around that head of which only the nose and eyes were showing?
Even if it caught could the stallion be drawn to shoal water without
being strangled by the slip-knot? Had Perris been a calm man he would
have discarded the thousandth chance which remained after all of these
possibilities. He would have looked, instead, to his cowpony which was
now cantering away towards liberty in the rear of the flying squadron
of mares. But Perris saw and lived for only one thing.
Down came that brave head, but now with the ears flattened, for in the
fury of the river his strength was being rapidly exhausted. Down the
current it came, momentarily nearer but always with dangers shooting
about it. Even while Perris looked, a great tree from which the
branches had not yet been stripped rushed from behind. The hunter's
yell of alarm was drowned by the thousand voices of the Little Smoky,
and over that head the danger swept.
Red Perris closed his eyes and his head fell, but when he looked
again the tree was far down stream and the stallion still swam in
the central current, but now near, very near. Only the slender outer
branches could have struck him, and these with barely sufficient force
to drive him under.
Perris strode still further into the wild water until it foamed about
his waist, and stretching out his arms he called to the stallion.
Had he possessed ten times the power of voice he could not have made
himself heard above the rioting of the Little Smoky but his gesture
could be seen, and even a dumb beast could understand it. The
chestnut, at least, comprehended for to the joy of Perris he now saw
those gallant ears come forward again, and turning as well as he
could, Alcatraz swam stoutly for the shore. In the hour of need, the
Great Enemy had become his last hope.
But his progress towards the sloping bank was small. For every inch
he fought to the bank the current carried him a foot down stream, yet
those inches gained in the lateral direction were every one priceless.
Finally Perris swung the lariat and shot it through the air. Fair and
true the circle struck above the head of the stallion and the hunter
shouted with hysterical triumph; a moment later he groaned as the
current whirled the rope over the head of Alcatraz and down stream.
Yet he fought the hopeless fight. Staggering in the currents, beaten
from his footing time and again, Perris stumbled down stream gathering
his rope for a new cast as he went. Neither had the chestnut abandoned
the struggle. His last efforts had swerved him about and now he headed
up stream with the water foaming about his red, distended nostrils;
but still through the whipping spray his great eyes were fixed on
Perris. As for the man, there was a prayer in the voice with which he
shouted: "Alcatraz!" and hurled the rope again.
Heavy with the water it had soaked up the noose splashed in a rough
circle around the head of the swimmer and then cut down into the
water. Hand over hand he drew in the slack, felt resistance, then a
jar that toppled him from his foothold. The noose had indeed caught
around the neck of the stallion, but the success threatened to be his
ruin. Toppled head over heels in the rush of the Little Smoky, still
his left hand gripped the rope and as he came gasping to the surface
his feet struck and lodged strongly against the surface of a great
boulder. His one stroke of luck!
He had no time to give thanks. The next moment the full weight of the
torrent on Alcatraz whipped the lariat quivering out of the water. The
horse was struggling in the very center of the strongest current and
the tug on the arms of Perris made his shoulder sockets ache. He
endured that pain, praying that his hands would not slip on the wet
rope. Then, little by little, he increased his pull until all the
strength of leg muscles, back, and arms was brought to bear. It seemed
that there was no result; Alcatraz did not change his position; but
inch by inch the rope crept in to him; he at length could shift holds,
whipping his right hand in advance of the left and tugging again.
There was more rapid progress, now, but as the first frenzy of nervous
energy was dissipated, a tremor of exhaustion passed through his limbs
and the beat of his heart redoubled until he was well-nigh stifled.
True, the rope was coming in hand over hand, now, but another danger.
The head of Alcatraz was sinking, his nostrils distended to the
bursting point, his eyes red and bulging from their sockets. He was
being throttled by the grip of the slip knot; and an instant later his
head disappeared beneath the surface.
Then all weakness passed from Red Perris; there was invigorating wine
in the air he breathed; a vast power clothed him suddenly and while
the frenzy endured he drew Alcatraz swiftly in from the gripping
currents and to the comparatively mild swirl of water where he stood.
Wavering, distorted, and dim as an image in a dull mirror, he saw
the form of the horse float towards him beneath the water. Still the
frenzy was on him. It enabled him to spring from his place, tear the
strangling noose from the neck of the stallion, and lifting that
lifeless head in both hands struggle towards the shore. The water
buoyed a weight which he could not otherwise have budged; he stumbled
in the shoaling gravel to his knees, rose again lifting and straining,
until blackness rushed across his eyes; and he pitched forward on his
face.
He wakened in a whipping rain that stung the back of his neck and as
he propped himself on his arms he found that he had been lying across
the neck and shoulders of the stallion. That much of him, and the
slender forelegs, was clear of the water. But had he not brought a
dead thing to land?
He bent his cheek to the nostrils of Alcatraz, but he felt no breath.
He came reeling to his knees and slid his hand beneath the water to
the heart of the horse; he felt no reassuring throb. Yet he could not
be sure that the end was indeed come, for the blood raged and surged
through his brain and waves of violent trembling passed over him so
that his sense of touch might well belie the truth. How long had he
lain unconscious--a minute or an hour?
At least, he must try to get the body farther ashore. Alas, his
strength hardly sufficed now to raise the head alone and when he made
his effort his legs crumpled beneath him. There he sat with the head
of Alcatraz in his lap--he the hunter and this the hunted!
There was small measure of religion in Red Perris but now, in
helplessness, he raised his trembling hands to the stormy grey of the
sky above him.
"God A'mighty," said Red Perris, "I sure ain't done much to make
You listen to me, but I got this to say: that if they's a call for
something to die right now it ain't the hoss that's to blame. It's me
that hounded him into the river. Alcatraz ain't any pet, but he's sure
lived according to his rights. Let him live and I'll let him go free.
I got no right to him. I didn't make him. I never owned him. But let
him stand up on his four legs again; let me see him go galloping once
more, the finest hoss that ever bucked a fool man out of the saddle,
and I'll call it quits!"
It was near to a prayer, if indeed this were not a prayer in
truth. And glancing down to the head on his lap, he shivered with
superstitious wonder. Alcatraz had unquestionably drawn a long and
sighing breath.