The White Crystals: Being an Account of the Adventures of Two Boys

by Howard Roger Garis

  CHAPTER VII

  LOST ON THE MOUNTAIN

  Roger seemed to be sinking down into some dark pit, falling lower andlower, until he appeared to strike against something and bound upward. Amyriad of stars danced before his eyes, and, as he thus floated upward,he instinctively put up his hands to avoid contact with whatever mightbe above him. Then, with a suddenness that startled him, he came to hissenses and found himself sitting at the side of the road, in the dampgrass, while all around was pitchy blackness.

  He rubbed his eyes and the back of his head, and he was somewhat alarmedwhen his hand came away wet with blood from a slight wound. He tried tostand, but found he was too tottery on his legs.

  "Well," he managed to say, "there must have been an accident. I fell offthe wagon, that's sure, and from the way my head feels I must havestruck on a stone. Guess I cut myself too, but not badly," as he failedto find any serious wound on his scalp.

  He rubbed his hands in the damp grass and drew them out dripping withdew. He dabbled this water on his forehead and felt better.

  "I think the horse must have run away," he went on, "or else I'd seesomething of Adrian by this time, though it's as dark as a pocket here,and hard enough to locate your hand before your face, let alone somebodyaway down the road."

  Roger listened intently, but could catch no sound of rattling wheels,nor the beating of a horse's hoofs, which might have indicated that thewagon was coming back. All about was silence and darkness. The boy triedagain to stand up, and found that his momentary weakness had passed.

  "I guess I'd better walk on until I meet Adrian," he said to himself."He'll be sure to be coming back soon," and he started off in thedirection he thought was toward Cardiff.

  Now if Roger had lived all his life in the country, or if he had beenmore familiar with the road, he probably would have had no trouble instarting on the right way back home. Very likely he would have done soinstinctively; or he might have gotten his bearings from the stars,which shone overhead, though somewhat dimly. As it was, he becameconfused in the darkness, and, owing to a slight dizziness caused by hisfall, instead of going toward Cardiff, he began walking back towardTully.

  He was a little sore and stiff at first, but, as he went on, thisdisappeared, and he stepped out briskly enough. He thought he would nothave far to go before meeting his cousin, but, as he walked farther andfarther, he commenced to wonder what had become of Adrian. But then, hereassured himself, perhaps Adrian had had some trouble in bringing theold white horse to a stop, though the animal had not seemed to be such amettlesome steed.

  "But I'll meet him soon, now," said Roger, trying to comfort himself.

  He could feel the soft dusty road under his feet, and its whiteness waslike a big indistinct chalk mark on a large blackboard, as it camefaintly through the darkness. But, somehow or other, in a little whilethe white mark seemed to be fading away. It grew so dim that even by thehardest squinting of the eyes, it could no longer be seen. It appearedalso that the character of the road was changing. It was no longer dustyand soft, but hard, and firm, and, instead of going down hill, Rogerfound himself ascending the grade.

  "Hold on!" exclaimed the boy, "this is queer. I must have turnedaround."

  He came to a sudden stop. Was he off the road? Was he lost? He hurriedlysearched through his pockets and found a single match. Here wassomething that would aid him, though ever so slightly. With unsteadyfingers he struck the little fire-stick. It flared up, sputtered andflickered, and, a second later, blazed brightly. Holding it above hishead, so the glow might light all around him, he peered about in thegloom which was but faintly illuminated by the tiny flame.

  What was his terror to see, on every side of him, a tall and thickundergrowth of bushes and lofty trees. Beneath his feet was a narrowpath, while the forest appeared to meet above his head in a black arch.Then, with a start, he realized he was lost; lost on the mountain, lostin the dense woods about Cardiff. He did not know which way to turn.

  Now if Roger had been an older boy or a sturdy country lad, he wouldhave laughed at the plight in which he found himself,--laughed a bit andthen tramped on and sat down, to wait until morning. But, as it was,Roger was never more frightened in his life. Once he had been lost inNew York, when he was a little chap. But a big policeman had picked himup and taken him to a precinct station-house, where he was kept untilhis father, missing him, came after the lost boy.

  But out here in the country there were no blue-coated officers on thelookout for lost people. There were no police stations, no streetlights, no lights at all, in fact, save the little flicker that had diedaway when Roger's single match went out.

  When the last spark had become dim the boy's breath came with a gasp. Hewanted to run away from the blackness, but where could he flee to escapeit, for it was all about him. He felt like crying out; like shouting forhelp. Then he suddenly recalled something his father had once said tohim.

  "Roger, if you ever find yourself in danger, in a fire, or in anyposition where you feel you'll lose your presence of mind, just stop,and count ten. Then you'll be able to think calmly, and be able to helpyourself, and perhaps others."

  This came back to the boy like a flash. He resolved to put it intopractice. Slowly he counted--1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. He said eachnumber in a loud voice. Even hearing his own tones did him good, and,before he had reached the "nine" he felt himself growing calmer. At theend he was less frightened, and he could think more clearly. Then hebegan to reason, and before he knew it, he was turning a plan over inhis mind.

  "I must have branched off the road into a path that goes through thewoods," he said, "and, at the same time, I must have got turned around,and gone up hill, instead of down. Now let's see. If I turn back andwalk in just the opposite direction from which I'm facing now, and if Iam careful to keep going down hill, and stay in this path until I strikethe road again, I'll probably come out safely. So, then, right aboutface! Forward, march!" He executed the command and started off bravelyin the other direction.

  Roger now went along more slowly. He was cautious about where he set hisfeet, that he might not stray from the path, and occasionally he stoopeddown, and with his hands he felt the dirt under foot, to be positive hewas on the hard, packed path and not travelling over the wood-carpet. Hewas in better spirits now and was sure he was going back the right way.He even began to whistle a little tune and already saw himself safe inhis uncle's house, laughing with Adrian over their adventure.

  But when he had gone on for some time in this way, there came over him anameless sense of disquietude. After all, was he really retracing hissteps, or was he advancing deeper into the woods? If he had a match ortwo he could have easily seen his position. But he had not one. However,he reflected, the nature of the ground he was travelling over might nowbe of assistance to him. He leaned over again to feel of the way. As hedid so he brushed against some low-hanging branches of the trees, andthen, when his hand came in contact with the earth, Roger was startledto find it met neither the hard packed clay of the path, nor the dust ofthe road, but the dead leaves, the little twigs and broken limbs oftrees, and the soft moss of the forest.

  Now, indeed, he knew he was fairly lost, and, when he stopped, andlistened intently, he heard, all around him, the rustle of the foliage,the creaking of the boughs and the rattle of the branches of the deepwoods. He had now absolutely no sense of direction, no knowledge ofwhich way to turn. He caught his breath with a gasp, and then, feelinghis legs giving way beneath him, he put out his hands, which camesharply up against a tree trunk, as he sank down on a fallen log.

  For a few minutes Roger thought the fierce beating of his heart wouldsmother him. Then, realizing he must play the man now, he shut his lipsfirmly, clenched his hands, and stared determinedly into the blacknessthat was all around him.

  "What a baby I am," he said. "All I have to do is to sit here until it'slight. Then I can easily get back into the path, or some one will findme. That's what I'll do. I'll not move from this spot until I c
an seewhere I am going."

  So he made himself as comfortable as possible on the log, turned up hiscoat collar, for it was cold, braced his back against the tree, and madeready to sit out his vigil until morning. His first fear over, he nowlooked upon the occurrence as a sort of queer little adventure.

  "It will be something to write to mother about," he said, as he pulledhis hat on tightly.

  For perhaps half an hour the boy sat there. He thought of all sorts ofthings,--of his father, of his mother, and his little brother athome--of how he had come to Cardiff. He went over all that he and Adrianhad done since he arrived.

  Then he began to nod; a little at first, then more and more, until hecaught himself falling forward, almost asleep.

  "My, my! I mustn't go off like this," he said, rubbing his eyes. "Itwon't do to take a snooze here."

  For a time he fought off the drowsiness, only to find it coming overhim more and more strongly. Oh, how nice it was out here in the woods.There was a gentle wind, the leaves seemed to rustle and whisperto him. Ah! He was floating away--away--off--off--to the land--ofnod--to--the--land--of--nod--the--land--of--nod--nod--nod!

  Then! Roger was fast asleep!

  No! Not asleep! He was on the verge. Just going to tumble over into thefinest feather bed he ever knew, when there was a noise that soundedlike a clap of thunder.

  Crash!

  Roger sat up, clutching the tree, against which he leaned, with a gripof terror. His heart was going like a trip-hammer. There was the echo ofa great roaring in his ears. For a second he could not tell where hewas. Then came another noise, less loud.

  Snap!

  Ah! It was only the breaking of a twig. He calmed down. But what did itmean? Somebody must be coming to find him. Of course, that was it.Adrian and his father were searching.

  Roger leaped to his feet. He peered into the darkness.

  "Here I am, Adrian!" he called. "Here I am! Hey! Here's Roger!"

  The echo of his own cry was the only answer. Then came another crackleof the twigs, as if some one was approaching nearer. Roger strained hiseyes into the black depths of the forest. He could make out nothing.

  Then, as he kept his gaze fixed on one spot, he saw something whichseemed to chill his heart. It was two small balls of greenish-red fire,and they looked right at him. At the same time there came to the boy'sears the sound of an angry snarl.