BEARS
Meanwhile, those outside the cave had been witnesses to an unbelievable
horror. There was the muttering, rending sound of the avalanche, earth
torn from the breast of the mountain, a magnificent spectacle as tons of
débris roared earthward, demolishing the cabins at the mountain’s foot.
Then, hard upon that first great rush of earth, a second explosion--an
explosion that seemed to shake the mountain from towering tip to base,
that tore up tortured earth and rock, a roar that drowned all other
sounds in its immensity.
Then, silence--breathless, tense.
“The cave!” shrieked Helen. “It is gone! The mouth of it is gone!”
She flung herself into the arms of Edith Lang. The two clung together
wordlessly. They watched while cowboys set feverishly to the task of
excavation, using whatever tools came to hand. Others dashed back to the
ranch for picks and shovels and reinforcements.
Mr. Hammond flung off his coat and joined those working at the pile of
earth and rock. Commanding, suggesting, urging, he seemed to be
everywhere at once.
Finally Helen roused herself from her numbed silence.
“They will never be able to get to them in time,” she said hopelessly.
“Why, it looks as if they would have to dig their way through the whole
mountainside. Tom! Ruth! Oh, what shall I do!”
She rose with some wild idea in her head of adding her puny efforts to
those of the rescuers.
Edith Lang guessed at her intention and gently pulled the girl down
beside her again.
“You would only get in the way, dear. They are doing all they can.”
“But it isn’t enough!” Helen’s hands were clenched. All color had left
her face. “They will never get to them in time. Never--never!”
Her desperate cry was duplicated heartbreakingly by those within the
cave. Although they knew that those on the outside must have come at
once to the rescue, must be feverishly at work, even now, no sound of
pick or shovel penetrated to their gloomy prison.
This fact in itself was enough to rob them of all hope. Had their rescue
been possible, the voices and shouts of encouragement would be audible
now.
They had dug at the imprisoning mass of rock and dirt until fingers were
sore and bleeding. Some had found sharp stones and rocks and had
continued the frantic digging with these poor implements.
Ruth realized suddenly how futile, how foolish, all their efforts were.
With a little cry of weariness and despair she straightened up and felt
about for Tom. Not finding him, she became frightened. It was natural to
suppose he had been at her side all this time.
She raised her voice and called his name aloud, at first faintly, then
wildly, frantically.
“Tom, where are you? Tom!”
“Coming!”
There was an exultation, a wild gladness in that answering shout that
thrilled and startled the prisoners in the cave. They got up from hands
and knees, nursed bleeding fingers and peered with an intense, terrible
hopefulness in the direction of Tom’s voice.
“Ruth, where are you? Ruth!”
“Here, Tom!” she stretched out her hands to him, clinging to him. “Tom,
what is it?”
“I’ve found another entrance to this place! There are tunnels, and at
the far end is light--daylight. Do you hear that? Daylight!” His voice
was husky and cracked and the shout that went up from a dozen answering
throats was wild and hoarse with hope.
“Follow me!” Tom was already turning back toward the tunnel, his arm
about Ruth. “You will have to go single file for the passage is narrow.
Keep close behind me, Ruth. Hold to my coat.”
Ruth held on to his coat. It is doubtful if anything on earth would have
made her let go of it just then!
The whole company straggled after their leader, a weary, battered but
hopeful group, yet not daring to hope too much.
Tom led them along the first passage then turned into the second.
There he paused, drew Ruth close to him, and pointed.
“Do you see it--the opening?” he asked.
Ruth, eyes upon that narrow ray of light, drew a sharp breath.
“Yes, I see it, Tom.”
They said no more, for that much was eloquent, and Tom led the way
again, going more cautiously now since the farther end of the passage
had not yet been explored.
Their progress was slowed considerably by the fact that at this point
the tunnel narrowed so sharply that they were forced to rub shoulders
with the wall on either side.
At last they were reduced to proceeding crab fashion--going sideways and
feeling their way, inch by inch.
Then, when they least expected it, the passage widened suddenly, forming
a cave not dissimilar in size, it seemed, from the one they had just
left.
Puzzled and wishing to see more of his surroundings, Tom lighted a
match. He dropped it with a startled exclamation.
“Stand back, Ruth! Get behind me!”
“What’s the rumpus?” a voice drawled behind them. The boys were crowding
into the cave. “Think you see somethin’, mister?”
“Bears!” replied Tom grimly. “Two of them!”