"W-w-what are we going to do?" Glen asked.
"We've got to get home and tell Aunt Lydia and Uncle Claude," the young woodsman answered.
"We've got to get somebody to hunt for them!"
Together the two boys dashed down the wide street to the place where Danny's aunt and uncle lived.
"Aunt Lydia!" Danny called as they threw open the front door and burst into the living room. There was no answer.
"I...I don't think there's anyone at home," Glen panted.
And then Danny spied the note on the kitchen table.
"Dear boys," he read. "I've gone to Denver with Dad. We'll be back late tonight or early tomorrow."
"What are we going to do now?" Glen asked, his round face white and serious.
"I don't know," Danny answered hesitantly. "Do you have any idea where the guys might have gone?"
"There's an old scout cabin up on Iron Mountain," Glen replied after a moment or two. "It isn't used very much, but I know Larry used to hike up there once in a while."
"That could be just the place!" Danny exclaimed. "We've got to go up there and see!"
"You...you mean right now?" Glen echoed. "Without even going to school this afternoon?"
"We couldn't wait until after school!" Danny retorted. "Larry's desperate! There's no telling what might happen if we wait! I'll go and call the principal while you call your mother."
Quickly Danny and Glen wolfed down their lunch, got into heavy coats, and hurried up the old Iron Mountain road on their bikes.
"We can ride out to where the road ends," Glen explained. "Then we'll have to take the trail up the mountain on foot."
Danny nodded. "O God," he prayed, "be with Larry and Joe. Guide them and keep them from harm. O Lord, just...just help them to use their heads and...and decide to come back. In Jesus' name. Amen."
They rode for five or six miles on their bikes until the road got steeper and steeper and finally ended altogether at the base of the rocky, forbidding mountain.
"We must have gained an hour or so on them," Glen said as they hid their bikes behind a big clump of brush and stood for a moment catching their breath.
"Yes," the young woodsman replied, "but they've still got a good three or four hours' head start on us."
Glen took a few steps up the trail. "But we'll find them," he said. "We've just got to!"
"If Larry had only taken Jesus as his Saviour this morning," Danny continued. "He was so close to it that he couldn't have gotten any closer without giving his heart to Christ. If he had, this wouldn't have happened."
His companion nodded in agreement. "Look!" he exclaimed an instant later, pointing to a pair of footprints in the soft dirt at the edge of the trail. "They've gone this way, all right!"
Quickly Danny ran forward and dropped to his knees to examine the footprints. "It's theirs, all right," he said a moment later. "And from the looks of these footprints it hasn't been too long since they went by here."
"Maybe we're not so far behind them after all!" Glen said hopefully.
Danny wasn't used to mountain climbing, but he was able to keep up with Glen as they made their way upward. They didn't talk much. It took breath to talk—breath they needed in the long, steep climb.
Nevertheless, Danny was praying with every step.
Every now and then they stopped to rest, throwing themselves on the ground and breathing in long, rasping gasps.
It was cold outside and getting colder, but they were sweating beneath their coats. The clouds that had been lurking about the mountaintop when they first started out had inched past them now and almost covered the sky. Now and then a few flakes of snow fell, and the wind was rising steadily. Up in the Angle those signs would mean a storm.
"H-how much farther is it?"
"Oh, we're halfway or a little better," Glen said. "But the going gets harder when we work over on the north face of the mountain."
It was going to storm. The clouds had closed in about them, completely blotting out the sun, and on the slopes above they could see that snow was already falling.
"Maybe we'd better go back!" Glen said almost fearfully.
"But we can't!" Danny exclaimed. "Larry and Joe are up there somewhere!"
"We'd better hurry, then!"
They climbed even faster than they had, pushing themselves until their arms and legs ached desperately.
It had looked as though it would start snowing any minute, but strangely enough it held off although it kept growing darker continually.
It was Glen who spotted the wreckage of the plane below them, a mile or so around the mountain to the east.
"Look," he said, pointing at the wreckage. "There's the plane that crashed last night."
Danny shuddered.
"You don't suppose they'd go over there and take a look at it, do you?" Glen asked.
"I don't think they'd ever want to see it," Danny replied.
After five or ten minutes of climbing, Glen stopped once more.
"Take it easy for the next hundred yards or so," he said. "We've got to cross the face of this cliff, and it's two or three hundred feet straight down."
Danny gulped hard.
Slowly, cautiously he edged his way along the narrow, crumbling ledge, his fingers digging into holes in the rough granite, and his feet feeling for good, solid footing. He dared not look down. After what seemed to be an hour or two he finally got across the cliff to the safety of the boulders and scrub pine.
"Whew!" he exclaimed. "Hope I don't have to do that again, ever."
It wasn't far to the cabin, and they hurried now, clambering up the steep slope and around the boulders until at last they reached it.
"There!" Glen exclaimed when at last they saw it through the trees.
There was no sign of anyone around the little log cabin. There was no sign that anyone had been there recently.
"O God, help us to find them!" Danny prayed as they threw open the door.
But the little room was empty!
Chapter Ten
THE CALL FOR HELP
DANNY Orlis pushed past Glen and stepped slowly into the dark, cold, musty cabin. His heart was hammering in his throat, and his mouth went hot and dry.
"They aren't here!" he gasped.
Glen Davis's face was white, and his lower lip was quivering. "Maybe they went on," he said at last.
But Danny shook his head. He was looking past his companion toward the snow-filled sky and the dark shadows that were rapidly covering the mountains. "No," he said dully. "Look at the cobwebs and the dust on the floor. There hasn't been anyone in this cabin for weeks!"
"What do you suppose happened to them?" Glen asked, his voice taut with fear.
Danny stepped outside, shuddering as he felt the snow, wet and cold against his cheek.
For a split second his heart faltered. Back along the trail a few hundred yards was the cliff that seemed to drop off into nothingness. If one of them had slipped there—Danny bit his lips and grimly forced the thought from his mind.
"They just couldn't disappear," he said. "They have got to be somewhere."
Glen turned, his eyes widening with excitement. "I just thought of something!" he exclaimed. "Larry never used to follow the regular trail all the way up. He always took a short cut!"
"A short cut!" Danny echoed.
"It was Larry's own. He always left the trail about halfway up and made his way across the face of the cliff until he came to a place where he could climb."
"I wish you'd thought of that before," Danny told him. "We might have known he'd go that way."
"We could never climb it anyway," Glen replied. "I went part way with him once, but I had to go back. That wall is almost straight up for a couple of hundred feet." He shuddered at the thought of it. "And straight down almost a thousand."
The color left Danny's face, and he caught his breath sharply.
"If everything went all right for them, they'd have been here a long while ago," Glen managed.
"We've got to go back and see what happened to them!" he said hoarsely.
His companion took a deep breath. "If you're going, Danny, I'm going, too."
Without saying any more the two boys closed the cabin door and knelt in prayer.
Glen was first. "O God," he began uncertainly, "You know about Larry and Joe out on the mountain alone. You know what's happened to them, whether they're just scared or if one of them is hurt and in trouble. Please watch over them and keep them safe from harm." He stopped for a moment. "O Lord Jesus, help Danny and me as we go out to look for them. And keep us safe, and help us to find them."
When they had finished praying, they got quickly to their feet. Glen unsnapped his scout flashlight and turned it on to check the batteries.
"They're okay," he said. "That's one thing I never come up into the mountains without. Now, if we only had a good chunk of rope."
"I saw one over in the corner," Danny told him. "Just a minute, and I'll get it."
The trail, if you could call it that, was steep and rugged. In some places it lay along the lip of the cliff, so close that Danny held his breath as he edged along. The wind had died down a little, but the snow was still filling the air, and the darkness was creeping stealthily in until they could scarcely make out the outline of trees and rocks a stone's throw away.
They fumbled slowly along the narrow, dangerous trail. Danny was frightened, so frightened that his breath was coming in short, quick gasps, and the sweat was standing out on his forehead. But, despite all that, he could feel the presence of Someone with him—Someone holding his hand and guiding him.
Glen must have felt the same way, for a moment or two later he said, "It sure makes a guy feel better to pray, doesn't it?"
The cliff had suddenly become steeper, and Danny could feel his heart throbbing against his ribs. Every few feet Glen stopped and swept the area with his light. Just as they reached the big boulder, Danny heard something above the sound of the wind.
"Did you hear anything?" he demanded, grasping Glen by the sleeve.
His companion shook his head.
And then it came again, from somewhere among the rocks below.
"Help! Help!" a voice cried weakly.
The little room was empty!
Chapter Eleven
AN SOS FROM A WRECKED PLANE
IN an instant the voice came again, weak and feeble, but plainly enough so that there was no mistaking it.
"Help! Help!"
"Larry!" Danny cried, cupping his hands to his mouth and calling loudly. "Larry! Joe! Where are you?"
"Down here, Danny!" Larry's voice sounded hollow and frightened above the wind.
For a flickering heartbeat Danny and Glen stood there, staring at one another in the growing darkness.
"Come on!" Glen exclaimed between clenched teeth. "We've got to get down there as fast as we can!"
"Hang on!" Danny called. "We're coming, Larry!"
The young woodsman was in the lead now, moving rapidly along the narrow, icy ledge. With the first word that Larry and Joe were in trouble, he forgot that he had been afraid. He clutched the sharp rocks with his fingers as he sought one handhold after another.
"Be careful, Danny," Glen cautioned,
"Don't worry." Danny paused a moment, a sudden chill seizing him.
Although it only took them a couple of minutes to make their way to a place where they could go down, it seemed to Danny that it had taken an hour or more. But at last Glen touched him on the arm.
"I think this is the spot, Danny," he almost whispered.
"You're right above us, Danny," Larry called, his voice firming a little. "We're down about forty feet, I think. I'm on a little ledge about two feet wide, so be careful."
Fear gripped Danny's heart once more as he looked at those snow-covered rocks and the bottomless wall of granite below them. Glen picked Larry up with the flashlight, and Danny sucked in his breath sharply. His cousin was lying there with one leg doubled strangely under him. There was no sign of Joe.
Danny loosened the rope from his belt and fastened one end securely about his waist. Glen took hold of the rope and, bracing his feet, made ready to help the young woodsman make the perilous trip over the side of the cliff.
With a prayer in his heart Danny took a deep breath and slowly let himself down over the precipice. The rocks were slick and smooth and glazed with ice. His cold fingers clawed desperately for holds, and his feet sought crevices and clumps of grass—anything he could thrust a toe into. More than once his weight eased back on the rope as a foot slipped. His head reeled, and his stomach was a knot of ice, but he could not stop now. He must go on!
As he made his way down the treacherous granite wall, he could hear another voice, whimpering in pain. Joe was still alive! That much he knew! With a prayer of thankfulness he negotiated the last fifteen or twenty feet and dropped carefully to the ledge beside his cousin.
"Oh, Danny," Larry almost sobbed, "I never was so glad to see anyone in my life. Joe's hurt awfully bad!"
"Where is he?"
"Down on the ledge just below us," Larry managed to say, his hand trembling as he pointed. "He fell twenty feet or so, and he's hurt awfully bad."
Danny could just make out Joe's figure, slumped in a heap on still another ledge below them. "Joe!" he called loudly.
In a moment the injured boy answered him, the words muffled and indistinct above the wind.
"We'll be right down!" Danny shouted.
By that time Glen, who had done a great deal of climbing in the mountains, had made his way down the slick rocks to the ledge where Danny and Larry were crouched.
"We've got to do something!" Glen exclaimed. "It's getting colder and darker every minute."
"That wrecked plane isn't over half a mile away," Larry said. "If...if we could get over there, we might be able to send for help on the radio."
"If the radio is still working," Danny said.
"I'll go down and cover Joe up and make him as comfortable as I can," Glen said, untying the rope from about his waist. "You two go over to the plane and try to make that radio work."
"I don't know whether or not I can," Larry gritted. "I guess I got scared after Joe fell and tried to climb the cliff fast. I slipped and hurt my ankle. I don't think I can walk on it."
"But you've got to!" Danny retorted. "You're the only one who can run that radio. Come on, I'll help you!"
Danny couldn't remember how he made the climb in the gathering darkness. There didn't seem to be anything to cling to, nor any holds for his feet. But somehow he inched upward. Now and again he felt the snow and loose rock give way beneath his feet, or felt the rock he grasped come out of the wall in his hands. But he kept moving slowly and uncertainly until he felt his fingers reach over the top of the cliff.
In another moment he scrambled to the ledge and braced himself for Larry to start climbing. His cousin moved slowly, haltingly, leaning so heavily against the rope that it was all the young woodsman could do to hold him. But finally Larry too reached the safety of the trail.
"I...I never thought I'd make it," he panted, sprawling exhausted on the rocks.
"We've got to get to that radio," Danny told him a moment or two later.
"Just a minute, Danny." There was a strange tone in the other's voice. "Before we go, I want to tell you that I'm sorry for the bad time I gave you."
"That's all right, Larry," Danny replied. "Only I wish you'd take Christ as your Saviour now. He's the answer, Larry. Believe me."
"We'd better go and get some help first," his cousin said, changing the subject quickly. "I'll take Christ as my Saviour one of these days."
Danny prayed for him as they walked slowly along the stony trail toward the plane, asking God to help Larry see his need of a Saviour and to help him to put his trust in the Lord Jesus. He prayed for Joe and Glen too, who were huddled on the dangerously narrow ledge.
At last, however, they reached the badly wrecked plane. Danny's heart sank within him. The radio was probably damaged.
"Now we'll see if it works!" Larry said tensely as he dragged his injured ankle through the wreckage to the radio transmitter.
He dropped in front of the radio and fumbled in the darkness for the switch.
"Is it going to work?" Danny asked, his voice tense with excitement.
Larry didn't speak for a moment or two. "The current's getting through," he said at last, more to himself than to Danny, "but it's awfully weak. I don't know whether or not it's going to work."
"We'll just have to wait and...and pray," Danny said softly.
Larry stared at him questioningly, then picked up the small microphone and began to speak into it.
"SOS!" he said slowly. "SOS! We're at the wrecked plane on Iron Mountain. Condition desperate!"
Danny dropped silently onto the cold ground beside the plane. Silently, for he didn't want to interfere with Larry, Danny began to pray. He prayed for Joe who was suffering from shock and some sort of serious injury. He prayed for Larry with his twisted ankle and for Glen who was staying with Joe.
Danny didn't know how long he had been praying, but when he finally looked up, Larry was still talking slowly into the microphone, repeating the same words over and over again. At that instant Larry stopped abruptly and let the microphone slip from his fingers.
"What's the matter?" Danny demanded quickly. "What's wrong?"
"The batteries were weak to start with," Larry told him. "Now they're gone. The radio is dead!"
Larry was below them about forty feet on a two-foot wide ledge.
Danny Orlis Goes to School Page 4