by Zane Grey
CHAPTER 14.
ALL HEROES BUT ONE
As we rode up the slope of Buckskin, the sunrise glinted red-goldthrough the aisles of frosted pines, giving us a hunter's glad greeting.
With all due respect to, and appreciation of, the breaks of the Siwash,we unanimously decided that if cougars inhabited any other section ofcanyon country, we preferred it, and were going to find it. We hadoften speculated on the appearance of the rim wall directly across theneck of the canyon upon which we were located. It showed a long stretchof breaks, fissures, caves, yellow crags, crumbled ruins and cleftsgreen with pinyon pine. As a crow flies, it was only a mile or twostraight across from camp, but to reach it, we had to ascend themountain and head the canyon which deeply indented the slope.
A thousand feet or more above the level bench, the character of theforest changed; the pines grew thicker, and interspersed among themwere silver spruces and balsams. Here in the clumps of small trees andunderbrush, we began to jump deer, and in a few moments a greaternumber than I had ever seen in all my hunting experiences loped withinrange of my eye. I could not look out into the forest where an aisle orlane or glade stretched to any distance, without seeing a big gray deercross it. Jones said the herds had recently come up from the breaks,where they had wintered. These deer were twice the size of the Easternspecies, and as fat as well-fed cattle. They were almost as tame, too.A big herd ran out of one glade, leaving behind several curious does,which watched us intently for a moment, then bounded off with thestiff, springy bounce that so amused me.
Sounder crossed fresh trails one after another; Jude, Tige and Rangerfollowed him, but hesitated often, barked and whined; Don started offonce, to come sneaking back at Jones's stern call. But surly old Mozeeither would not or could not obey, and away he dashed. Bang! Jonessent a charge of fine shot after him. He yelped, doubled up as ifstung, and returned as quickly as he had gone.
"Hyar, you white and black coon dog," said Jones, "get in behind, andstay there."
We turned to the right after a while and got among shallow ravines.Gigantic pines grew on the ridges and in the hollows, and everywherebluebells shone blue from the white frost. Why the frost did not killthese beautiful flowers was a mystery to me. The horses could not stepwithout crushing them.
Before long, the ravines became so deep that we had to zigzag up anddown their sides, and to force our horses through the aspen thickets inthe hollows. Once from a ridge I saw a troop of deer, and stopped towatch them. Twenty-seven I counted outright, but there must have beenthree times that number. I saw the herd break across a glade, andwatched them until they were lost in the forest. My companions havingdisappeared, I pushed on, and while working out of a wide, deep hollow,I noticed the sunny patches fade from the bright slopes, and the goldenstreaks vanish among the pines. The sky had become overcast, and theforest was darkening. The "Waa-hoo," I cried out returned in echo only.The wind blew hard in my face, and the pines began to bend and roar. Animmense black cloud enveloped Buckskin.
Satan had carried me no farther than the next ridge, when the forestfrowned dark as twilight, and on the wind whirled flakes of snow. Overthe next hollow, a white pall roared through the trees toward me.Hardly had I time to get the direction of the trail, and its relationto the trees nearby, when the storm enfolded me. Of his own accordSatan stopped in the lee of a bushy spruce. The roar in the pinesequaled that of the cave under Niagara, and the bewildering, whirlingmass of snow was as difficult to see through as the tumbling, seethingwaterfall.
I was confronted by the possibility of passing the night there, andcalming my fears as best I could, hastily felt for my matches andknife. The prospect of being lost the next day in a white forest wasalso appalling, but I soon reassured myself that the storm was only asnow squall, and would not last long. Then I gave myself up to thepleasure and beauty of it. I could only faintly discern the dim trees;the limbs of the spruce, which partially protected me, sagged down tomy head with their burden; I had but to reach out my hand for asnowball. Both the wind and snow seemed warm. The great flakes werelike swan feathers on a summer breeze. There was something joyous inthe whirl of snow and roar of wind. While I bent over to shake myholster, the storm passed as suddenly as it had come. When I looked up,there were the pines, like pillars of Parian marble, and a whiteshadow, a vanishing cloud fled, with receding roar, on the wings of thewind. Fast on this retreat burst the warm, bright sun.
I faced my course, and was delighted to see, through an opening wherethe ravine cut out of the forest, the red-tipped peaks of the canyon,and the vaulted dome I had named St. Marks. As I started, a new andunexpected after-feature of the storm began to manifest itself. The sunbeing warm, even to melt the snow, and under the trees a heavy rainfell, and in the glades and hollows a fine mist blew. Exquisiterainbows hung from white-tipped branches and curved over the hollows.Glistening patches of snow fell from the pines, and broke the showers.
In a quarter of an hour, I rode out of the forest to the rim wall ondry ground. Against the green pinyons Frank's white horse stood outconspicuously, and near him browsed the mounts of Jim and Wallace. Theboys were not in evidence. Concluding they had gone down over the rim,I dismounted and kicked off my chaps, and taking my rifle and camera,hurried to look the place over.
To my surprise and interest, I found a long section of rim wall inruins. It lay in a great curve between the two giant capes; and manyshort, sharp, projecting promontories, like the teeth of a saw,overhung the canyon. The slopes between these points of cliff werecovered with a deep growth of pinyon, and in these places descent wouldbe easy. Everywhere in the corrugated wall were rents and rifts; cliffsstood detached like islands near a shore; yellow crags rose out ofgreen clefts; jumble of rocks, and slides of rim wall, broken intoblocks, massed under the promontories.
The singular raggedness and wildness of the scene took hold of me, andwas not dispelled until the baying of Sounder and Don roused action inme. Apparently the hounds were widely separated. Then I heard Jim'syell. But it ceased when the wind lulled, and I heard it no more.Running back from the point, I began to go down. The way was steep,almost perpendicular; but because of the great stones and the absenceof slides, was easy. I took long strides and jumps, and slid overrocks, and swung on pinyon branches, and covered distance like arolling stone. At the foot of the rim wall, or at a line where it wouldhave reached had it extended regularly, the slope became lesspronounced. I could stand up without holding on to a support. Thelargest pinyons I had seen made a forest that almost stood on end.These trees grew up, down, and out, and twisted in curves, and manywere two feet in thickness. During my descent, I halted at intervals tolisten, and always heard one of the hounds, sometimes several. But as Idescended for a long time, and did not get anywhere or approach thedogs, I began to grow impatient.
A large pinyon, with a dead top, suggested a good outlook, so I climbedit, and saw I could sweep a large section of the slope. It was astrange thing to look down hill, over the tips of green trees. Below,perhaps four hundred yards, was a slide open for a long way; all therest was green incline, with many dead branches sticking up like spars,and an occasional crag. From this perch I heard the hounds; thenfollowed a yell I thought was Jim's, and after it the bellowing ofWallace's rifle. Then all was silent. The shots had effectually checkedthe yelping of the hounds. I let out a yell. Another cougar that Joneswould not lasso! All at once I heard a familiar sliding of small rocksbelow me, and I watched the open slope with greedy eyes.
Not a bit surprised was I to see a cougar break out of the green, andgo tearing down the slide. In less than six seconds, I had sent sixsteel-jacketed bullets after him. Puffs of dust rose closer and closerto him as each bullet went nearer the mark and the last showered himwith gravel and turned him straight down the canyon slope.
I slid down the dead pinyon and jumped nearly twenty feet to the softsand below, and after putting a loaded clip in my rifle, began kangarooleaps down the slope. When I reached the point where the cougar hadentered the
slide, I called the hounds, but they did not come noranswer me. Notwithstanding my excitement, I appreciated the distance tothe bottom of the slope before I reached it. In my haste, I ran uponthe verge of a precipice twice as deep as the first rim wall, but oneglance down sent me shatteringly backward.
With all the breath I had left I yelled: "Waa-hoo! Waa-hoo!" From theechoes flung at me, I imagined at first that my friends were right onmy ears. But no real answer came. The cougar had probably passed alongthis second rim wall to a break, and had gone down. His trail couldeasily be taken by any of the hounds. Vexed and anxious, I signaledagain and again. Once, long after the echo had gone to sleep in somehollow canyon, I caught a faint "Wa-a-ho-o-o!" But it might have comefrom the clouds. I did not hear a hound barking above me on the slope;but suddenly, to my amazement, Sounder's deep bay rose from the abyssbelow. I ran along the rim, called till I was hoarse, leaned over sofar that the blood rushed to my head, and then sat down. I concludedthis canyon hunting could bear some sustained attention and thought, aswell as frenzied action.
Examination of my position showed how impossible it was to arrive atany clear idea of the depth or size, or condition of the canyon slopesfrom the main rim wall above. The second wall--a stupendous,yellow-faced cliff two thousand feet high--curved to my left round to apoint in front of me. The intervening canyon might have been a halfmile wide, and it might have been ten miles. I had become disgustedwith judging distance. The slope above this second wall facing me ranup far above my head; it fairly towered, and this routed all my formerjudgments, because I remembered distinctly that from the rim thisyellow and green mountain had appeared an insignificant little ridge.But it was when I turned to gaze up behind me that I fully grasped theimmensity of the place. This wall and slope were the first two stepsdown the long stairway of the Grand Canyon, and they towered over me,straight up a half-mile in dizzy height. To think of climbing it tookmy breath away.
Then again Sounder's bay floated distinctly to me, but it seemed tocome from a different point. I turned my ear to the wind, and in thesucceeding moments I was more and more baffled. One bay sounded frombelow and next from far to the right; another from the left. I couldnot distinguish voice from echo. The acoustic properties of theamphitheater beneath me were too wonderful for my comprehension.
As the bay grew sharper, and correspondingly more significant, I becamedistracted, and focused a strained vision on the canyon deeps. I lookedalong the slope to the notch where the wall curved and followed thebase line of the yellow cliff. Quite suddenly I saw a very small blackobject moving with snail-like slowness. Although it seemed impossiblefor Sounder to be so small, I knew it was he. Having something now tojudge distance from, I conceived it to be a mile, without the drop. IfI could hear Sounder, he could hear me, so I yelled encouragement. Theechoes clapped back at me like so many slaps in the face. I watched thehound until he disappeared among broken heaps of stone, and long afterthat his bay floated to me.
Having rested, I essayed the discovery of some of my lost companions orthe hounds, and began to climb. Before I started, however, I was wiseenough to study the rim wall above, to familiarize myself with thebreak so I would have a landmark. Like horns and spurs of gold thepinnacles loomed up. Massed closely together, they were not unlike anastounding pipe-organ. I had a feeling of my littleness, that I waslost, and should devote every moment and effort to the saving of mylife. It did not seem possible I could be hunting. Though I climbeddiagonally, and rested often, my heart pumped so hard I could hear it.A yellow crag, with a round head like an old man's cane, appealed to meas near the place where I last heard from Jim, and toward it I labored.Every time I glanced up, the distance seemed the same. A climb which Idecided would not take more than fifteen minutes, required an hour.
While resting at the foot of the crag, I heard more baying of hounds,but for my life I could not tell whether the sound came from up ordown, and I commenced to feel that I did not much care. Having signaledtill I was hoarse, and receiving none but mock answers, I decided thatif my companions had not toppled over a cliff, they were wiselywithholding their breath.
Another stiff pull up the slope brought me under the rim wall, andthere I groaned, because the wall was smooth and shiny, without abreak. I plodded slowly along the base, with my rifle ready. Cougartracks were so numerous I got tired of looking at them, but I did notforget that I might meet a tawny fellow or two among those narrowpasses of shattered rock, and under the thick, dark pinyons. Going onin this way, I ran point-blank into a pile of bleached bones before acave. I had stumbled on the lair of a lion and from the looks of it onelike that of Old Tom. I flinched twice before I threw a stone into thedark-mouthed cave. What impressed me as soon as I found I was in nodanger of being pawed and clawed round the gloomy spot, was the fact ofthe bones being there. How did they come on a slope where a man couldhardly walk? Only one answer seemed feasible. The lion had made hiskill one thousand feet above, had pulled his quarry to the rim andpushed it over. In view of the theory that he might have had to draghis victim from the forest, and that very seldom two lions workedtogether, the fact of the location of the bones as startling. Skulls ofwild horses and deer, antlers and countless bones, all crushed intoshapelessness, furnished indubitable proof that the carcasses hadfallen from a great height. Most remarkable of all was the skeleton ofa cougar lying across that of a horse. I believed--I could not help butbelieve that the cougar had fallen with his last victim.
Not many rods beyond the lion den, the rim wall split into towers,crags and pinnacles. I thought I had found my pipe organ, and began toclimb toward a narrow opening in the rim. But I lost it. Theextraordinarily cut-up condition of the wall made holding to onedirection impossible. Soon I realized I was lost in a labyrinth. Itried to find my way down again, but the best I could do was to reachthe verge of a cliff, from which I could see the canyon. Then I knewwhere I was, yet I did not know, so I plodded wearily back. Many ablind cleft did I ascend in the maze of crags. I could hardly crawlalong, still I kept at it, for the place was conducive to direthoughts. A tower of Babel menaced me with tons of loose shale. A towerthat leaned more frightfully than the Tower of Pisa threatened to buildmy tomb. Many a lighthouse-shaped crag sent down little scatteringrocks in ominous notice.
After toiling in and out of passageways under the shadows of thesestrangely formed cliffs, and coming again and again to the same point,a blind pocket, I grew desperate. I named the baffling place DeceptionPass, and then ran down a slide. I knew if I could keep my feet I couldbeat the avalanche. More by good luck than management I outran theroaring stones and landed safely. Then rounding the cliff below, Ifound myself on a narrow ledge, with a wall to my left, and to theright the tips of pinyon trees level with my feet.
Innocently and wearily I passed round a pillar-like corner of wall, tocome face to face with an old lioness and cubs. I heard the mothersnarl, and at the same time her ears went back flat, and she crouched.The same fire of yellow eyes, the same grim snarling expression sofamiliar in my mind since Old Tom had leaped at me, faced me here.
My recent vow of extermination was entirely forgotten and one franticspring carried me over the ledge.
Crash! I felt the brushing and scratching of branches, and saw a greenblur. I went down straddling limbs and hit the ground with a thump.Fortunately, I landed mostly on my feet, in sand, and suffered noserious bruise. But I was stunned, and my right arm was numb for amoment. When I gathered myself together, instead of being grateful theledge had not been on the face of Point Sublime--from which I wouldmost assuredly have leaped--I was the angriest man ever let loose inthe Grand Canyon.
Of course the cougars were far on their way by that time, and weretelling neighbors about the brave hunter's leap for life; so I devotedmyself to further efforts to find an outlet. The niche I had jumpedinto opened below, as did most of the breaks, and I worked out of it tothe base of the rim wall, and tramped a long, long mile before Ireached my own trail leading down. Resting every five steps, I climbedand cl
imbed. My rifle grew to weigh a ton; my feet were lead; thecamera strapped to my shoulder was the world. Soon climbing meanttrapeze work--long reach of arm, and pull of weight, high step of foot,and spring of body. Where I had slid down with ease, I had to strainand raise myself by sheer muscle. I wore my left glove to tatters andthrew it away to put the right one on my left hand. I thought manytimes I could not make another move; I thought my lungs would burst,but I kept on. When at last I surmounted the rim, I saw Jones, andflopped down beside him, and lay panting, dripping, boiling, withscorched feet, aching limbs and numb chest.
"I've been here two hours," he said, "and I knew things were happeningbelow; but to climb up that slide would kill me. I am not young anymore, and a steep climb like this takes a young heart. As it was I hadenough work. Look!" He called my attention to his trousers. They hadbeen cut to shreds, and the right trouser leg was missing from the kneedown. His shin was bloody. "Moze took a lion along the rim, and I wentafter him with all my horse could do. I yelled for the boys, but theydidn't come. Right here it is easy to go down, but below, where Mozestarted this lion, it was impossible to get over the rim. The lion litstraight out of the pinyons. I lost ground because of the thick brushand numerous trees. Then Moze doesn't bark often enough. He treed thelion twice. I could tell by the way he opened up and bayed. The rascalcoon-dog climbed the trees and chased the lion out. That's what Mozedid! I got to an open space and saw him, and was coming up fine when hewent down over a hollow which ran into the canyon. My horse tripped andfell, turning clear over with me before he threw me into the brush. Itore my clothes, and got this bruise, but wasn't much hurt. My horse ispretty lame."
I began a recital of my experience, modestly omitting the incidentwhere I bravely faced an old lioness. Upon consulting my watch, I foundI had been almost four hours climbing out. At that moment, Frank pokeda red face over the rim. He was in shirt sleeves, sweating freely, andwore a frown I had never seen before. He puffed like a porpoise, and atfirst could hardly speak.
"Where were--you--all?" he panted. "Say! but mebbe this hasn't been achase! Jim and Wallace an' me went tumblin' down after the dogs, eachone lookin' out for his perticilar dog, an' darn me if I don't believehis lion, too. Don took one oozin' down the canyon, with me hot-footin'it after him. An' somewhere he treed thet lion, right below me, in abox canyon, sort of an offshoot of the second rim, an' I couldn'tlocate him. I blamed near killed myself more'n once. Look at myknuckles! Barked em slidin' about a mile down a smooth wall. I thoughtonce the lion had jumped Don, but soon I heard him barkin' again. Allthet time I heard Sounder, an' once I heard the pup. Jim yelled, an'somebody was shootin'. But I couldn't find nobody, or make nobody hearme. Thet canyon is a mighty deceivin' place. You'd never think so tillyou go down. I wouldn't climb up it again for all the lions inBuckskin. Hello, there comes Jim oozin' up."
Jim appeared just over the rim, and when he got up to us, dusty, tornand fagged out, with Don, Tige and Ranger showing signs of collapse, weall blurted out questions. But Jim took his time.
"Shore thet canyon is one hell of a place," he began finally. "Wherewas everybody? Tige and the pup went down with me an' treed a cougar.Yes, they did, an' I set under a pinyon holdin' the pup, while Tigekept the cougar treed. I yelled an' yelled. After about an hour or two,Wallace came poundin' down like a giant. It was a sure thing we'd getthe cougar; an' Wallace was takin' his picture when the blamed catjumped. It was embarrassin', because he wasn't polite about how hejumped. We scattered some, an' when Wallace got his gun, the cougar washumpin' down the slope, an' he was goin' so fast an' the pinyons was sothick thet Wallace couldn't get a fair shot, an' missed. Tige an' thepup was so scared by the shots they wouldn't take the trail again. Iheard some one shoot about a million times, an' shore thought thecougar was done for. Wallace went plungin' down the slope an' Ifollowed. I couldn't keep up with him--he shore takes long steps--an' Ilost him. I'm reckonin' he went over the second wall. Then I madetracks for the top. Boys, the way you can see an' hear things down inthet canyon, an' the way you can't hear an' see things is pretty funny."
"If Wallace went over the second rim wall, will he get back to-day?" weall asked.
"Shore, there's no tellin'."
We waited, lounged, and slept for three hours, and were beginning toworry about our comrade when he hove in sight eastward, along the rim.He walked like a man whose next step would be his last. When he reachedus, he fell flat, and lay breathing heavily for a while.
"Somebody once mentioned Israel Putnam's ascent of a hill," he saidslowly. "With all respect to history and a patriot, I wish to sayPutnam never saw a hill!"
"Ooze for camp," called out Frank.
Five o'clock found us round a bright fire, all casting ravenous eyes ata smoking supper. The smell of the Persian meat would have made a wolfof a vegetarian. I devoured four chops, and could not have been countedin the running. Jim opened a can of maple syrup which he had beensaving for a grand occasion, and Frank went him one better with twocans of peaches. How glorious to be hungry--to feel the craving forfood, and to be grateful for it, to realize that the best of life liesin the daily needs of existence, and to battle for them!
Nothing could be stronger than the simple enumeration and statement ofthe facts of Wallace's experience after he left Jim. He chased thecougar, and kept it in sight, until it went over the second rim wall.Here he dropped over a precipice twenty feet high, to alight on afan-shaped slide which spread toward the bottom. It began to slip andmove by jerks, and then started off steadily, with an increasing roar.He rode an avalanche for one thousand feet. The jar loosened bowldersfrom the walls. When the slide stopped, Wallace extricated his feet andbegan to dodge the bowlders. He had only time to jump over the largeones or dart to one side out of their way. He dared not run. He had towatch them coming. One huge stone hurtled over his head and smashed apinyon tree below.
When these had ceased rolling, and he had passed down to the red shale,he heard Sounder baying near, and knew a cougar had been treed orcornered. Hurdling the stones and dead pinyons, Wallace ran a mile downthe slope, only to find he had been deceived in the direction. Hesheered off to the left. Sounder's illusive bay came up from a deepcleft. Wallace plunged into a pinyon, climbed to the ground, skiddeddown a solid slide, to come upon an impassable the obstacle in the formof a solid wall of red granite. Sounder appeared and came to him,evidently having given up the chase.
Wallace consumed four hours in making the ascent. In the notch of thecurve of the second rim wall, he climbed the slippery steps of awaterfall. At one point, if he had not been six feet five inches tallhe would have been compelled to attempt retracing his trail--animpossible task. But his height enabled him to reach a root, by whichhe pulled himself up. Sounder he lassoed a la Jones, and hauled up. Atanother spot, which Sounder climbed, he lassoed a pinyon above, andwalked up with his feet slipping from under him at every step. Theknees of his corduroy trousers were holes, as were the elbows of hiscoat. The sole of his left boot, which he used most in climbing--wasgone, and so was his hat.