Chapter XXVII
The Quicksands
Beulah was too perfect of body, too sound of health, not to revel insuch a dawn as swept across the flats next morning. The sun caressedher throat, her bare head, the uplifted face. As the tender light ofdaybreak was in the hills, so there was a lilt in her heart that foundexpression in her voice, her buoyant footsteps, and the shine of hereyes. She had slept soundly in Beaudry's blankets while he had laindown in his slicker on the other side of the fire. Already she wasquite herself again. The hours of agony in the pit were obliterated.Life was a wholly joyous and beautiful adventure.
She turned back to the camp where Roy was making coffee.
"Am I not to do any of the work?"
At the sound of that deep, sweet voice with its hint of a drawl theyoung man looked up and smiled. "Not a bit. All you have to do is todrink my coffee and say I'm the best cook you know."
After they had drunk the coffee and finished the sandwiches, Roysaddled.
"They're probably over to the left. Don't you think so?" Beaudrysuggested.
"Yes."
There drifted to them the sound of two shots fired in rapid succession.
Roy fired twice in answer. They moved in the direction of theshooting. Again the breeze brought revolver shots. This time therewere three of them.
Beaudry bad an odd feeling that this was a call for help from somebodyin difficulties. He quickened their pace. The nature of the ground, agood deal of which was deep sand, made fast travel impossible.
"Look!" Beulah pointed forward and to the right.
At the same moment there came a shout. "Help! I'm in the quicksands."
They made out the figure of a man buried to his waist in the dry washof a creek. A horse stood on the farther bank of the wash. Roydeflected toward the man, Beulah at his heels.
"He must be caught in Dead Man's Sink," the girl explained. "I'venever seen it, but I know it is somewhere near here. All my life I'veheard of it. Two Norwegians were caught here five years ago. Beforehelp reached them, they were lost."
"Get me a rope--quick," the man in the sand called.
"Why, it's Brad," cried Beulah.
"Yep. Saw the smoke of yore fire and got caught trying to reach you.Can't make it alone. Thought I sure was a goner. You'll have tohurry."
Already Roy was taking the riata from its place below the saddle-horn.From the edge of the wash he made a cast toward the man in thequicksands. The loop fell short.
"You'll have to get into the bed of the stream," suggested Beulah.
Beaudry moved across the sand a few steps and tried again. Thedistance was still too great.
Already he was beginning to bog down. The soles of his shoesdisappeared in the treacherous sand. When he moved it seemed to himthat some monster was sucking at him from below. As he dragged hisfeet from the sand the sunken tracks filled with mud. He felt thequiver of the river-bed trembling at his weight.
Roy turned to Beulah, the old familiar cold chill traveling up hisspine to the roots of his hair. "It won't bear me up. I'm goingdown," he quavered.
"Let me go, then. I'm lighter," she said eagerly.
She made the proposal in all good faith, with no thought of reflectingon his courage, but it stung her lover like a slap in the face.
"Hurry with that rope!" Charlton sang across. "I'm sinking fast."
"Is there any way for Miss Rutherford to get over to your horse?" askedRoy quickly.
"She can cross the wash two hundred yards below here. It's perfectlysafe."
As Roy plunged forward, he gave Beulah orders without turning his head."You hear, dear. Run down and get across. But go over very carefully.If you come to a bad place, go back at once. When you get over tieCharlton's rope to his saddle-horn and throw him the looped end. Thehorse will drag him out."
The young woman was off on the run before he had half finished.
Once more Roy coiled and threw the rope. Charlton caught the loop,slipped it over his head, and tightened it under his arms.
"All right. Pull!" he ordered.
Beaudry had no footing to brace himself. Already he was ankle-deep inthe quicksand. It flashed across his mind that he could not fight hisown way out without abandoning Charlton. For one panicky moment he wasmad to get back to solid ground himself. The next he was tugging withall the strength of his arms at the rope.
"Keep on the job!" encouraged Charlton. "You're pulling my body over alittle so that the weight is on new sand. If Beulah gets here in time,I'll make it."
Roy pulled till his muscles ached. His own feet were sliding slowlyfrom under him. The water-bubbles that oozed out of the sand were nowalmost at his high boot-tops. It was too late to think of retreat. Hemust go through whether he wanted to or not.
He cast one look down the dry river-bed. Beulah was just picking herway across. She might get over in time to save Charlton, but beforethey made it back across to him, he would be lost.
He wanted to scream aloud to her his urgent need, to beg her, forHeaven's sake, to hurry. The futility of it he knew. She was alreadyrunning with the knowledge to wing her feet that a man's life hung inthe balance. Besides, Charlton was not shrieking his fears out. Hewas calling cheerful words of hope across the quaking morass of sandthat separated them. There was no use in making a gibbering idiot ofone's self. Beaudry clenched his jaws tight on the cries that roselike a thermometer of terror in his throat.
With every ounce of strength that was in him he fought, meanwhile, forthe life of the man at the other end of the rope. Before Beulahreached Charlton, Roy was in deeper than his knees. He shut his eyesand pulled like a machine. It seemed an eternity before Charltoncalled to him to let go the rope.
A new phase of his danger seared like a flame across the brain ofBeaudry. He had dragged himself from a perpendicular position. Assoon as he let loose of the rope he would begin to sink forward. Thiswould reduce materially the time before his face would sink into thesand.
Why not hang on and let the horse drag him out, too? He had as muchright to live as Charlton. Was there any law of justice that forcedhim to throw away the rope that was his only hope?
But he knew the tough little cowpony could not drag two heavy men fromthe quicksands at the same time. If he held tight, Charlton, too,would be sacrificed. His fingers opened.
Roy watched the struggle on the opposite side of the wash. Charltonwas in almost to his arm-pits. The horse braced its feet and pulled.Beulah, astride the saddle, urged it to the task again and again. Atfirst by imperceptible gains, then inch by inch, the man was draggedfrom the mire that fought with a thousand clinging tentacles for itsprey.
Not till Charlton was safe on the bank did Beulah realize the peril ofBeaudry. One glance across the river showed her that he was slidingface downward to a shifting grave. With an anguished little cry shereleased the rope from Charlton's body, flung herself to the saddleagain, and dashed down the bank of the creek.
Roy lost count of time. His face was sliding down toward the sand.Soon his mouth and nostrils would be stopped. He believed that it wasa question of minutes with him.
Came the swift pounding of hoofs and Beulah's clear, ringing voice.
"Hold your hands straight out, Roy."
His back was toward her, so that he did not see what she meant to do.But he obeyed blindly. With a wrench first one hand and then the othercame free from the sand and wavered into the air heavily. A rope sang,dropped over his arms and head, tightened with a jerk around his waist.
Two monsters seemed to be trying to tear him in two. A savage wrenchof pain went through him jaggedly. At short intervals this wasrepeated.
In spite of the suction of the muddy sand he felt its clutch givingway. It loosened a little here, a little there. His body began tomove. After a long tug he came out at last with a rush. But he lefthis high cowpuncher's boots behind. They remained buried out of sightin the sand. He had literally been drag
ged out of them.
Roy felt himself pulled shoreward. From across the quicksands cameCharlton's whoop of triumph. Presently Beulah was stooping over himwith tender little cries of woe and joy.
He looked at her with a wan, tired smile. "I didn't think you'd makeit in time." In a moment he added: "I was horribly afraid. God, itwas awful!"
"Of course. Who wouldn't have been?" She dismissed his confession asof no importance. "But it's all over now. I want to hug you tight tomake sure you're here, boy."
"There's no law against it," he said with feeble humor.
"No, but--" With a queer little laugh she glanced across the rivertoward her former lover. "I don't think I had better."
Charlton joined them a few minutes later. He went straight to Roy andoffered his hand.
"The feud stuff is off, Mr. Beaudry. Beulah will tell you that Istarted in to make you trouble. Well, there's nothing doing in thatline. I can't fight the man who saved my life at the risk of his own."
"Oh, well!" Roy blushed. "I just threw you a rope."
"You bogged down some," Charlton returned dryly. "I've known men whowould have thought several times before throwing that rope from whereyou did. They would have hated to lose their boots."
Beulah's eyes shone. "Oh, Brad, I'm so glad. I do want you two to befriends."
"Do you?" As he looked at her, the eyes of the young hillman softened.He guessed pretty accurately the state of her feelings. Beaudry hadwon and he had lost. Well, he was going to be a good loser this time."What you want goes with me this time, Boots. The way you yanked meout of the sinks was painful, but thorough. I'll be a friend to Mr.Beaudry if he is of the same opinion as you. And I'll dance at hiswedding when it comes off."
She cried out at that, but Charlton noticed that she made no denial.Neither did Roy. He confined his remarks to the previous question, andsaid that he would be very glad of Charlton's friendship.
"Good enough. Then I reckon we better light out for camp with the gladnews that Beulah has been found. You can tell me all about it on theway," the hillman suggested.
Beulah dropped from her horse ten minutes later into the arms of NedRutherford. Quite unexpectedly to himself, that young man foundhimself filled with emotion. He caught his sister in his arms and heldher as if he never intended to let the sobbing girl go. His own voicewas not at all steady.
"Boots--Boots . . . Honey-bug . . . Where you-all been?" he asked,choking up suddenly.