CHAPTER IX
A WILD DASH FOR THE HILLS
Old Kirkby, who had been lazily mending a saddle the greater part of themorning, had eaten his dinner, smoked his pipe and was now stretched outon the grass in the warm sun taking a nap. Mrs. Maitland was drowsingover a book in the shadow of one of the big pines, when Pete, the horsewrangler, who had been wandering rather far down the canyon rounding upthe ever straying stock, suddenly came bursting into the camp.
"Heavens!" he cried, actually kicking the prostrate frontiersman as healmost stumbled over him. "Wake up, old man, an'--"
"What the--" began Kirkby fiercely, thus rudely aroused from slumber andresentful of the daring and most unusual affront to his dignity andstation, since all men, and especially the younger ones, held him ingreat honor.
"Look there!" yelled Pete in growing excitement and entirely obliviousto his _lese-majeste_, pointing at a black cloud rolling over the top ofthe range. "It'll be a cloud burst sure, we'll have to git out o' herean' in a hurry too. Oh, Mrs. Maitland."
By this time Kirkby was on his feet. The storm had stolen upon himsleeping and unaware, the configuration of the canyon having completelyhid its approach. At best the three in the camp could not havediscovered it until it was high in the heavens. Now the clouds werealready approaching the noonday sun. Kirkby was alive to the situationat once; he had the rare ability of men of action, of awakening with allhis faculties at instant command; he did not have to rub his eyes andwonder where he was, and speculate as to what was to be done. The momentthat his eyes, following Pete's outstretched arm, discovered the blackmass of clouds, he ran toward Mrs. Maitland, and standing on no ceremonyhe shook her vigorously by the shoulder.
"We'll have to run for our lives, ma'm," he said briefly. "Pete, drivethe stock up on the hills, fur as you kin, the hosses pertikler, they'llbe more to us an' them burros must take keer of themselves."
Pete needed no urging, he was off like a shot in the direction of theimprovised corral. He loosed the horses from their pickets and startedthem up the steep trail that led down from the hogback to the camp bythe water's edge. He also tried to start the burros he had just roundedup in the same direction. Some of them would go and some of them wouldnot. He had his hands full in an instant. Meanwhile Kirkby did notlinger by the side of Mrs. Maitland; with incredible agility for so olda man he ran over to the tent where the stores were kept and beganpicking out such articles of provision as he could easiest carry.
"Come over here, Mrs. Maitland," he cried. "We'll have to carry up onthe hill somethin' to keep us from starvin' till we git back to town. Wehadn't orter camped in this yere pocket noways, but who'd ever expectedanything like this now."
"What do you fear?" asked the woman, joining him as she spoke andwaiting for his directions.
"Looks to me like a cloud bust," was the answer. "Creek's pretty fullnow, an' if she does break everything below yere'll go to hell on arun."
It was evidence of his perturbation and anxiety that he used suchlanguage which, however, in the emergency did not seem unwarranted evento the refined ear of Mrs. Maitland.
"Is it possible?" she exclaimed.
"Taint only possible, it's sartin. Now ma'm," he hastily bundled up alot of miscellaneous provisions in a small piece of canvas, tied it upand handed it to her, "that'll be for you." Immediately after he made upa much larger bundle in another tent fly, adding, "an' this is mine."
"Oh, let us hurry," cried Mrs. Maitland, as a peal of thunder, low,muttered, menacing, burst from the flying clouds now obscuring the sun,and rolled over the camp.
"We've got time enough yit," answered Kirkby coolly calculating theirchances. "Best git your slicker on, you'll need it in a few minutes."
Mrs. Maitland ran to her own tent and soon came out with sou'wester andyellow oil skins completely covering her. Kirkby meantime had donned hisown old battered soiled rain clothes and had grabbed up Pete's.
"I brought the children's coats along," said Mrs. Maitland, extendingthree others.
"Good," said Kirkby, "now we'll take our packs an'--"
"Do you think there is any danger to Robert?"
"He'll git nothin' worse'n a wettin'," returned the old man confidently."If we'd pitched the tents up on the hogback, that's all we'd a been infor."
"I have to leave the tents and all the things," said Mrs. Maitland.
"You can stay with them," answered Kirkby, dryly, "but if what I think'sgoin' to happen comes off, you won't have no need of nothin' nomore--Here she comes."
As he spoke there was a sudden swift downpour of rain, not in drops, butin a torrent. Catching up his own pack and motioning the woman to dolikewise with her load, Kirkby caught her by the hand, and half led,half dragged her up the steep trail from the brook to the ridge whichbordered the side of the canyon. The canyon was much wider here thanfurther up and there was much more room and much more space for thewater to spread. Yet, they had to hurry for their lives as it was. Theyhad gone up scarcely a hundred feet when the disgorgement of the heavenstook place. The water fell with such force, directness andcontinuousness that it almost beat them down. It ran over the trail downthe side of the mountain in sheets like waterfalls. It required all theold man's skill and address to keep himself and his companion fromlosing their footing and falling down into the seething tumult below.
The tents went down in an instant. Where there had been a pleasant bitof meadow land was now a muddy tossing lake of black water. Some of thehorses and most of the burros which Pete had been unable to do anythingwith were engulfed in a moment. The two on the mountain side could seethem swimming for dear life as they swept down the canyon. Pete himself,with a few of the animals, was already scrambling up to safety.
Speech was impossible between the noise of the falling rain and theincessant peals of thunder, but by persistent gesture old Kirkby urgedthe terrified trembling woman up the trail until they finally reachedthe top of the hogback, where under the poor shelter of the stuntedpines they joined Pete with such of the horses as he had been able todrive up. Kirkby taking a thought for the morrow, noted that there werefour of them, enough to pull the wagon if they could get back to it.
After the first awful deluge of the cloud burst it moderated slightly,but the hard rain came down steadily, the wind rose as well and in spiteof their oil skins they were soon wet and cold. It was impossible tomake a fire, there was no place for them to go, nothing to be done, theycould only remain where they were and wait. After a half hour ofexposure to the merciless fury of the storm, a thought came suddenly toMrs. Maitland; she leaned over and caught the frontiersman by his wetsleeve. Seeing that she wished to speak to him he bent his head towardher lips.
"Enid," she cried, pointing down the canyon; she had not thought beforeof the position of the girl.
Kirkby, who had not forgotten her, but who had instantly realized thathe could do nothing for her, shook his head, lifted his eyes andsolemnly pointed his finger up to the gray skies. He had said nothing toMrs. Maitland before, what was the use of troubling her.
"God only kin help her," he cried; "she's beyond the help of man."
Ah, indeed, old trapper, whence came the confident assurance of thatdogmatic statement? For as it chanced at that very moment the woman forwhose peril your heart was wrung was being lifted out of the torrent bya man's hand! And, yet, who shall say that the old hunter was not right,and that the man himself, as men of old have been, was sent from God?
"It can't be," began Mrs. Maitland in great anguish for the girl she hadgrown to love.
"Ef she seed the storm an' realized what it was, an' had sense enoughto climb up the canyon wall," answered the other, "she won't be no worseoff 'n we are; ef not--"
Mrs. Maitland had only to look down into the seething caldron tounderstand the possibility of that "if."
"Oh," she cried, "let us pray for her that she sought the hills."
"I've been a doin' it," said the old man gruffly.
He had a deep vein of piety in him
, but like other rich ores it had tobe mined for in the depths before it was apparent.
By slow degrees the water subsided, and after a long while the rainceased, a heavy mist lay on the mountains and the night approachedwithout any further appearance of the veiled sun. Toward evening RobertMaitland with the three men and the three children joined the wretchedtrio above the camp. Maitland, wild with excitement and apprehension,had pressed on ahead of the rest. It was a glad faced man indeed who ranthe last few steps of the rough way and clasped his wife in his arms,but as he did so he noticed that one was missing.
"Where is Enid?" he cried, releasing his wife.
"She went down the canyon early this mornin' intendin' to stay all day,"slowly and reluctantly answered old Kirkby, "an'--"
He paused there, it wasn't necessary for him to say anything more.
Maitland walked to the edge of the trail and looked down into thevalley. It had been swept clean of the camp. Rocks had been rolled overupon the meadow land, trunks of trees torn up by the roots had lodgedagainst them, it was a scene of desolate and miserable confusion anddisaster.
"Oh, Robert, don't you think she may be safe?" asked Mrs. Maitland.
"There's jest a chance, I think, that she may have suspicioned the storman' got out of the canyon," suggested the old frontiersman.
"A slim chance," answered Maitland gloomily. "I wouldn't have had thishappen for anything on earth."
"Nor me; I'd a heap ruther it had got me than her," said Kirkby simply.
"I didn't see it coming," continued Maitland nodding as if Kirkby'sstatement were to be accepted as a matter of course, as indeed it was."We were on the other slope of the mountain, until it was almost overhead."
"Nuther did I. To tell the truth I was lyin' down nappin' w'en Pete,yere, who'd been down the canyon rounding up some of the critters, camebustin' in on us."
"I ain't saved but four hosses," said Pete mournfully, "and there's onlyone burro on the hogback."
"We came back as fast as we could," said Maitland. "I pushed on ahead.George, Bradshaw and Phillips are bringing Bob and the girls. We mustsearch the canyon."
"It can't be done to-night, old man," said Kirkby.
"I tell you we can't wait, Jack!"
"We've got to. I'm as willin' to lay down my life for that young gal asanybody on earth, but in this yere mist an' as black a night as it'sgoin' to be, we couldn't go ten rod without killin' ourselves an' wecouldn't see nothin' noways."
"But she may be in the canyon."
"If she's in the canyon 'twon't make no difference to her w'ether wefinds her to-morrer or next day or next year, Bob."
Maitland groaned in anguish.
"I can't stay here inactive," he persisted stubbornly.
"It's a hard thing, but we got to wait till mornin'. Ef she got out ofthe canyon and climbed up on the hogback she'll be all right; she'll soonfind out she can't make no progress in this mist and darkness. No, oldfriend, we're up agin it hard; we jest got to stay the night w'ere weare an' as long as we got to wait we might as well make ourselves ascomfortable as possible. For the wimmen an' children anyway. I fetchedup some ham and some canned goods and other eatin's in these yere canvassacks, we might kindle a fire--"
"It's hardly possible," said Maitland, "we shall have to eat it cold."
"Oh, Robert," pleaded his wife, "isn't it possible that she may haveescaped?"
"Possible, yes, but--"
"We won't give up hope, ma'am," said Kirkby, "until to-morrer w'en we'vehad a look at the canyon."
By this time the others joined the party. Phillips and Bradshaw showedthe stuff that was in them; they immediately volunteered to go down thecanyon at once, knowing little or nothing of its dangers and indifferentto what they did know, but as Kirkby had pointed out the attempt wasclearly impossible. Maitland bitterly reproached himself for havingallowed the girl to go alone, and in those self reproaches old Kirkbyjoined.
They were too wet and cold to sleep, there was no shelter and it was notuntil early in the morning they succeeded in kindling a fire. Meanwhilethe men talked the situation over very carefully. They were two days'journey from the wagons. It was necessary that the woman and childrenshould be taken back at once. Kirkby hadn't been able to save much morethan enough to eat to get them back to a ranch or settlement, and onvery short rations at best. It was finally decided that George and Petewith Mrs. Maitland, the two girls and the youngster should go back tothe wagon, drive to the nearest settlement, leave the women and thenreturn on horseback with all speed to meet Maitland and Kirkby who wouldmeanwhile search the canyon.
The two men from the east had to go back with the others although theypleaded gallantly to be allowed to remain with the two who were to takeup the hunt for Enid. Maitland might have kept them with him, but thatmeant retaining a larger portion of the scanty supplies that had beensaved, and he was compelled against his will to refuse their requests.Leaving barely enough to subsist Maitland and Kirkby for three or fourdays, or until the return of the relief party, the groups separated atdaybreak.
"Oh, Robert," pleaded his wife, as he kissed her good-by, "take care ofyourself, but find Enid."
"Yes," answered her husband, "I shall, never fear, but I must find thedear girl or discover what has become of her."
There was not time for further leave taking. A few hand clasps from manto man and then Robert Maitland standing in the midst of the group bowedhis head in the sunny morning, for the sky again was clear, and pouredout a brief prayer that God would prosper them, that they would find thechild and that they would all be together again in health and happiness.And without another word, he and Kirkby plunged down the side of thecanyon, the others taking up their weary march homeward with sad heartsand in great dismay.
The Chalice Of Courage: A Romance of Colorado Page 13