CHAPTER VIII
A DARING RESCUE
Lige thrust the excited boy to one side. Running to the edge of thecliff, he leaned over and listened intently.
A moment more and he too caught the plaintive cry for help from below.
It was the first time thus far on the journey that Lige Thomas hadmanifested the slightest sign of excitement. Just now, however, therecould be no doubt at all that he was intensely agitated.
"Keep back! Keep back!" he shouted, as the boys and Professor Zepplinbegan crowding near the masked edge of the cliff. "You'll all be overif you don't have a care. We've got trouble enough on our handswithout having the rest of you jump into it."
"What is it?" demanded the Professor breathlessly.
"It's Master Walt," snapped the guide. "Stand still. Don't move aninch. I'm going back for a torch," he commanded, leaping by them onhis way to the camp fire.
"Where--is--he?" stammered the Professor, not observing that theguide had left them.
"Down there, sir," explained Tad, pointing to the ledge of rock overwhich Walter had fallen.
"I know--I know--but----"
"I heard him call. Walt's alive! Walt's alive! But I don't know how weare going to get him."
The shout of joy that had framed itself on the lips of Ned Rector andStacy Brown died out in an indistinct murmur.
"Is it possible! What are we going to do, Thomas--how are we torescue the boy?"
Lige Thomas made no reply to the question as he ran past them, and,dropping down, leaned over the cliff, holding the torch he had broughtfar out ahead of him.
"See anything?" asked Tad tremulously, creeping to his side.
"Looks like a clump of bushes down there. But I ain't sure. Can youmake it out?"
"No. All I can see is rocks and shadows. Where is it that you thinkyou see bushes?"
"Over there to the right, just near the edge of the light space madeby the torch light," answered the guide.
"Yes," agreed Tad, "that does look like bushes. I'll call to Walterand tell him we are coming. Hey, Walter! Where are you?""H--e--r--e," was the faint response. "All right, old man. Sticktight and don't get scared. We'll have you out of that in no time."
"Don't move around. Lie perfectly still," warned the guide. "Are youhurt?"
To this question Walter made some reply that was unintelligible tothem.
"Now, what are we going to do, I'd like to know?" asked Ned.
"I don't know," answered Lige, frowning thoughtfully. "It's a toughjob. If I had a couple of mountaineers who knew their business, we'dstand a better chance of pulling him up."
"Why not get a rope and let it down to him," suggested Tad.
"Yes, that's the only way we can do it. Run over to the cook tent andtell Jose to give you those rawhide lariats that he will find behindhis bunk. Hurry!"
Tad was off almost before the words were out of the mouth of theguide, and in the briefest possible time came racing back with theleather coils, which he tossed to Lige before reaching him, that theremight not be even a second's delay.
The mountaineer quickly formed a loop in one end of the rope, makingit large enough to permit of its slipping over the shoulders of aman. This he dropped over the brink, after splicing two lariatstogether, and directing Ned Rector to make the other end fast aboutthe trunk of a tree by giving it a couple of hitches.
"Hello, down there! Let me know when the rope reaches you. Can youslip it over your shoulders and under your arms?" called the guide.
There was no response.
"I say, down there!" shouted Lige.
"That's funny," wondered Tad. "H-e-l-l-o-o-o-o, Walt!"
But not a sound came up from the black depths in answer to the boy'shail. They gazed at each other in perplexity.
"Has--he---gone?" asked the Professor weakly.
"No. We should have heard him if he had," answered Lige. "If I couldsee him I'd lasso him and haul him up. But I don't dare try it. Thenagain, these roots on a wall of rock ain't any too strong usually. Idon't dare try any experiments."
"What do you think has happened to him?" asked Tad in a troubledvoice.
"Fainted, probably. He ain't very strong, you know. And that tumble'senough to knock the sense out of a full grown man. Ain't no use toexpect him to hook himself onto the line, even if he does wake up,"decided the guide with emphasis, beginning to haul up the lariat,which he coiled neatly on the rock in front of him.
"Then what are we going to do? We've got to get Walt up here, even ifI have to jump over after him," said Tad firmly.
"Right you are, young man. But talking won't do it. Something elsebesides saying you're going to will be necessary."
"What would you suggest!"
"One of us must go down there," was the guide's startlingannouncement. "That's the only way we can reach him," explained Lige,dangling the loop of the lariat in his hands as he looked from one tothe other.
"D--do--down in that dark place? Oh!" exclaimed Chunky.
"In that case, you will have to go yourself, Thomas," decided theProfessor sharply. "I could not think of allowing any of my charges totake so terrible a risk, and----"
"Let me go, Mr. Thomas," interrupted Ned Rector, stepping forward,with almost a challenge in his eyes.
"No; I am the lighter of the two," urged Tad. "I am the one to goafter Walt, if anyone has to. I'll go down, Mr. Thomas."
"Master Tad is right," decided the guide, gazing at the two boysapprovingly. "It will be better for him to go, if he will----"
"And he most certainly will," interrupted Tad, advancing a step.
"I protest!" shouted the Professor. "You yourself should go, Lige. Youare----"
"I am needed right here, sir," replied the guide, shortly. "You'd haveboth of us at the bottom if I left it to you to take care of thisend."
"I'm ready, sir when you are," reminded Tad.
The guide, without further delay, and giving no heed to ProfessorZepplin's nervous protests, slipped the noose over Tad's shoulders,and, drawing it down and up under his arms, secured the knot so thatthe loop might not tighten under the weight of the boy's body.
"Now, be very careful. Make no sudden moves. And, if you meet withanything unlooked for, let me know at once. You know, you will have tostay down there while we are drawing the boy up. But, before removingthe rope from your own body, make sure that you are safe. If you findthe support too weak to bear your weight, let me know. I'll send downanother rope to which you can tie yourself until we get Master Walterto the top. Be sure to fasten him securely to the loop before you givethe signal to haul up," warned the guide. "Here, put my gun in yourpocket."
"I understand."
"Are you ready?"
"Yes."
Tad tossed away his sombrero and sat down on a shelf of rock at theedge of the cliff, his feet dangling over.
The lad's face was pale, the lines on it standing out in sharp ridges;but not by so much as the flicker of an eyelid did he betray theslightest nervousness. Yet Tad Butler realized fully the perilousnature of his undertaking, and that the least mistake on his part oron the part of those above him might mean a sudden end to his earthlyambitions.
Lige shortened the hitch about the tree, until the line drewtaut. After winding the end tightly about his own arm, he handed alighted torch to Tad.
It was a trying moment for all of them, and naturally more so for theboy who was about to descend into the unknown depths of the mountaincanyou.
"Right!" announced the guide in a reassuring voice.
Tad made no reply, but, turning so that he faced them, let himselfcarefully over the ledge, his right hand holding the torch, his leftfirmly gripping the ledge so that there might be no jolt on the lineby a too sudden stepping-off.
"Good!" approved Lige encouragingly, beginning to let the rawhide slipslowly around the trunk of the tree. As he did so, Tad felt himselfgradually sinking into the sombre depths.
/> He tilted his head to look up. The movement sent his body swayinggiddily from side to side.
Cautiously placing a hand against the rocks to steady himself, Tadwisely concluded that hereafter it would not pay to be too curious.
"Hold a torch over the edge of the cliff, Master Ned," directed theguide. "Better lie down so you, too, don't take a notion to falloff. Keep your eyes shut till I tell you to open them."
Slowly, but steadily, the slender line was paid out, amid a tensesilence on the part of the little group at the top of thecanyou. After what seemed to them hours, a sharp call from thedepths reached their ears.
Lige quickly made fast the line to a tree.
"Yes? Got him?" he answered, leaning over the cliff.
"I see him," called Tad, his voice sounding hollow and unnatural tothose above. "He's so far to the right of me that I can't reachhim. Will it be all right for me to swing myself?"
"Where is he?"
"Lodged in the branches of a pinyon tree, I think it is. But hedoesn't answer me."
"Wait a minute," cautioned the mountaineer.
Lige searched until he found a limb some three inches in diameter, andthis he placed under the rope so as to relieve the strain of the rockupon it, that there might be no danger of the leather being sawed intwo by contact with the ledge.
"All right. Now try it."
The creaking of the rawhide told them that Tad Butler was swaying fromside to side, fifty feet below them, at the end of a slenderline. Lige, leaning over the brink, was able to follow the boy'smovements by the aid of the thin arc of light made by the torch inTad's hand.
At last, the thread of light contracted into a point, and the watchingguide knew that the courageous boy had finally reached the pinyontree.
Then followed a long period of suspense. But from the cautiousmovements of the light far below them, the guide understood that thelad was at work carrying out his part of the task of rescue to thebest of his ability.
"Why doesn't he say something?" cried the Professor, unable torestrain his impatience longer, his overwrought nerves almost at thebreaking point.
"Keep still! Don't bother him. The boy's doing the best he can. Mebbyyou think he's having some sort of a picnic down there, eh?" glaredLige.
"A--l--l right!"
Tad's voice, now strong and clear, rose from the depths of the canyou.
"Shall we haul up?" asked Lige, making a megaphone of his hands.
"Yes; haul away. Tell them Walt's all right. He can talk now," wasthe answer that carried with it such a note of gladness that Ned andStacy were unable to resist a shout of joy.
"Lend a hand here," commanded Lige, taking firm hold of the line, andstepping to the edge that he might command both ends of theoperation. "Are you all safe down there, Tad?"
"Sure thing!" answered the boy.
Very slowly, restraining their inclination to haul the rope in withall speed only because the warning eyes of the guide were upon them,the two boys, assisted by Professor Zepplin, began hoisting WalterPerkins toward the top.
In a few moments the sinewy hands of the guide gripped Walter by anarm and dragged him safely to the table rock.
Walter had fully regained consciousness by this time, and a briefexamination showed that he had sustained no serious injury, he havingstruck on the yielding branches of the pinyon, which broke his falland saved his life. Beyond sundry bruises, a black eye and a thincrimson line on the right cheek where a branch had raked it, WalterPerkins was practically unharmed after his perilous experience.
But it was a trying moment for Tad Butler, down there alone in thebranches of the pinyon tree, with fifty feet of nothingness beneathhim and a sheer wall that extended an equal distance above him.
Nor was his sense of security increased when, in shifting hisposition, the torch fell from his grasp, the fagots scattering as theyslipped down between the limbs of the tree and whirling inever-diminishing circles until finally he heard them clatter on therocks below.
The boy could not repress a shudder. Closing his eyes, he clung to theslender support with grim courage until a hail from above told himthat the rawhide loop was rapidly squirming down toward him.
This time Lige had allowed for his mistaken reckoning when Tad hadfirst descended, and the boy grasped eagerly at the leather as he feltit gently slap against his cheek.
A few moments more, and he, too, had been hauled safely to the top,amid the wild cheers of his companions and the congratulations of theguide and Professor Zepplin.
The Pony Rider Boys in the Rockies; Or, The Secret of the Lost Claim Page 9