CHAPTER XX.
A CLIMB FOR LIBERTY.
A youth in the situation of Fred Greenwood cannot reason clearly, eventhough he be right in his main conclusions. He had settled into thebelief that Motoza, the Sioux, had determined to subject him to alingering death through starvation; and yet if it were he--asundoubtedly it was--who rolled the boulder into the canyon, it indicateda wish to put the most sudden end possible to his existence.
It would be painful to attempt to describe the experience of the lad inthe cavern at the side of the canyon. As is often the case, his hungerdiminished and was succeeded by a dull indifference, in which thesuffering of the mind outweighed that of the body. The dreadful day atlast drew to an end, and his situation and condition were much the sameas earlier in the forenoon. He had not seen a living person, and hadgiven over all hope of another visit from his merciless enemy.
"He means that I shall perish for want of food, and there is no help forit."
But with the coming of darkness the energy of the boy's nature asserteditself. It was impossible now for the Sioux or his allies to maintain awatch upon the mouth of the cavern, where the lad was observed themoment he showed himself, and Fred determined that as soon as it wasfairly dark he would make an attempt that should be crowned with successor that would end his sufferings and wretchedness.
His plan was to let himself down from the ledge to the top of thenearest rock, and then try to reach the break in the canyon as he hadascended it under the guidance of his captor. It was not to be supposedthat the vigilant Motoza would leave the way open for him, though hisactions pointed to the belief that it was utterly impossible for theprisoner to escape by that means.
Nor in truth was it possible, for in the impenetrable gloom he wascertain to miss his foothold sooner or later and be flung into thetorrent, with no possibility of the good fortune that attended JackDudley, who had a much less distance to traverse.
It was yet early in the evening when Fred came once more and for thelast time to the front of the cavern. With that attention to triflingmatters which a person sometimes shows in the most trying crises hewound up his watch, examined his clothing to see that everything wasright, adjusted his hat so that it was not likely to be displaced, andlooked out in the gloom. All that he could see was when he gazed upwardand observed a few stars twinkling in the thin streak of sky.
"Two things are certain," he mused: "that Indian does not think itpossible for me to make my way out of the canyon; and, if I shouldsucceed, he will be on the watch for me and shoot or try to force me toreturn. He shall never get me back here, for I will take the risk ofdrowning, and then----"
A thought flashed through him like an inspiration and fairly took awayhis breath.
Why not climb the side of the canyon?
He was so overcome by the question, which seemed born of heaven, that hestood dazed and bewildered. Then he became cool again and asked:
"Is it possible?"
He recalled that Hank Hazletine had told him he had done it during thedaytime, and it must have been somewhere in this neighborhood. The taskwould seem easy if the sun were shining, but if it were shining FredGreenwood would not have been permitted to make the attempt.
He was convinced of another thing: the depth of the canyon had beenrepeatedly referred to as being a thousand feet, but there were placeswhere it was less than half that extent, and he remembered a depressionin the earth, almost directly overhead, which must have lessened theprodigious height found at other points.
Nevertheless, a climb of several hundred feet up the perpendicular sideof a canyon or mountain wall is severe work to the most powerful andbest trained man, and its formidable nature was proved by the fact thatsome of the cowmen would not try it by daylight.
Nothing could be clearer than that Motoza had not hesitated to leave hisprisoner alone in the cavern for the reason that he was certain he couldnot effect his escape therefrom. The last means the youth would think ofemploying was that of climbing the side; therefore, as Fred reasoned,that was the very means to adopt, and the only one that could possiblysucceed.
"I'll try it!" was his conclusion, after a few minutes' thought.
Before setting out on the unparalleled task he fervently asked the helpof the only One who could extricate him from his peril. Then he summonedhis strength and courage to the tremendous work.
His dread now was that Motoza would put in an appearance before he wasclear of the mouth of the cavern. Had the lad thought of the daringscheme earlier in the day he would have studied the stupendous stairsupon which all his hopes now rested, but it was too late to think ofthat.
Reaching upward, he grasped one of the projecting points of rock anddrew himself clear of the opening in front of the cavern. Naturallymuscular and active, with all his nerves in superb control, the effortwas trifling. Within less time than would be supposed he had climbedfully fifty feet without meeting with any difficulty. Then the firstthrill of alarm shot through him as one foot slipped and he narrowlymissed falling.
He found a good place to rest, and immediately adopted a sensibleprecaution. Removing both shoes, he tied the strings together and slungthem over his shoulder, with the fastening under his chin. This wouldmake it rough for his stockinged feet, but it was worth it all. He wasnot discommoded by rifle or pistol, and could not have been betterprepared for climbing.
He felt as yet no fatigue, and resumed his work as soon as he was ready.If he continued to find projections such as he had found thus far, therewas no reason why he should not reach the level ground above in safety.As an evidence of how fate sometimes plays fast and loose with us, it iscertain that Hank Hazletine entered the cavern while his young friendwas climbing the wall overhead, without either dreaming of the actualsituation.
Fred Greenwood, at the beginning of his climb for liberty, was subjectedto a peculiar peril. He had rested but a moment, when he was seized withan extraordinary "panicky" feeling. He was sure that Motoza was standingon the ledge below, peering upward in the gloom, and holding his rifleready to fire at him on the instant he could make his aim certain.
Like all such emotions, it was opposed to common sense. According to hisbelief it was out of the power of the Sioux to obtain the most shadowyglimpse of him, and the youth ought to have felt as secure against beingpicked off as if in his home, hundreds of miles away; but the feelingfor a time was uncontrollable, and, yielding to it, he began franticallyclimbing, never abating his efforts until he had gone fully fifty feethigher. By that time he was all a-tremble, and so weak that he wasforced to pause for rest. Thus far he had been extremely fortunate inmeeting with no difficulty, the projections affording abundant supportfor hands and feet. Moreover, he had again attained a ledge where he wasable to sustain himself with comparative ease.
He paused, panting, trembling and exhausted. Thrusting out his head asfar as was safe, he looked downward. Nothing but impenetrable gloom methis eye. He could hear the torrent rushing against the rocks andboulders in its path, and flinging itself against the walls of thecanyon, but he could distinguish nothing, and his strong sense now cameto his rescue.
"If he is down there he cannot see me; he will not dream I have startedto climb the wall, and therefore will not follow. If he does, he mustappear below me, and I will kick him loose the minute I see him. Howfoolish to be afraid!"
In a few minutes his nerves became calmer, but he began to realize thenature of the terrifying task before him. There was no thought ofretreat on his part, and he was determined to keep on, so long as thework was possible.
His feet were paining him, and were certain to pain him a good deal morebefore he reached the top; but healthy, rugged youth has elasticmuscles, and in a short time Fred was ready to resume his work. Hispanic was gone, and he exerted himself with the deliberate care which heshould have shown from the first.
As nearly as he could judge he had climbed some twenty paces, when hewas startled, upon extending his hand upward, to encounter only thesmooth face of the wall. Hi
therto there had been more projections thanhe required, but now the steps appeared to vanish, leaving him withoutany support.
Could it be he would have to abandon his effort after making so fine astart? Must he pick his way down the side of the canyon, again, to thecavern, and there meekly resume the torture of waiting for death fromstarvation? Failure was too terrible to be thought of, and he resumedhis searching for the indispensable support.
Certainly there was nothing directly above him that would serve, and hepassed his right hand to one side. Ah! he caught the sharp edge, aftergroping for a few seconds. Leaning over, he reached out as far aspossible and found the projection extended indefinitely.
"It will do!" he muttered, with a thrill, and, without pausing toreflect upon the fearful risk of the thing, he swung himself along,sustained for an instant by his single hand; but the other wasimmediately alongside of it, and it was easy to hold himself like apendulum swaying over the frightful abyss. But there was nothing uponwhich to rest his feet. He did not wish anything, and, swingingsideways, threw one leg over the ledge beside his hands, and,half-rolling over, raised himself securely for the time on his perch.
"Gracious!" he exclaimed, pausing from the effort; "if I had stopped tothink, I shouldn't have dared to try it. If this ledge had been smallerI shouldn't have found room for my body, and there is no way of gettingback to the stone on which I was standing. I _must_ go on now, for Icannot go back."
It was plain sailing for a few minutes. The flinty excrescences were asnumerous as ever, and he never paused in his ascent until prudencewhispered that it was wise to take another breathing spell. It was asource of infinite comfort to feel that when he thus checked himself hewas not compelled to do so for lack of support.
There was no way of determining how far he had climbed, and he based hiscalculation on hope rather than knowledge. The roar of the canyon wasnotably fainter, and, when he looked aloft, the ribbon of starlit skyappeared nearer than at first. There could be no doubt that he wasmaking his ascent at the most favorable point, for the height was muchless than at most of the other places, and he believed this was theportion where Hank Hazletine had climbed from the bottom to the top ofthe gorge. Could he have been certain of the latter, all misgiving wouldhave vanished.
Not a trace of his panic remained. If Motoza had returned to the cavern,and, discovering the flight of his prisoner, set out to follow him,there was little prospect of his success, for the fugitive had variedfrom a direct line, and the Sioux might pass within arm's length withoutbeing aware of the fact.
There was one peril to which Fred was exposed, and it was fortunate itnever entered his mind. Supposing Motoza was standing on the ledge atthe bottom of the canyon and gazing upward, weapon in hand, it was quiteprobable that he would be able to locate the youth. This would be notbecause of any superiority of vision, but because of that patch of skybeyond, acting as a background for the climber. With his inky figurethrown in relief against the stars, his enemy could have picked him offas readily as if the sun were shining.
This possibility, we say, did not present itself to Fred Greenwood, and,more providential than all, Motoza was not in the canyon.
The slipping of one foot tore most of the sole from the stocking, andhis foot had henceforth no protection against the craggy surface.
"I don't mind the stocking," grimly reflected the youth, "for there isanother pair in camp and plenty of them at the ranch, but how it hurts!"
He would have been altogether lacking in the pluck he had displayed thusfar had he been deterred by physical suffering from pushing his effortsto the utmost. He would have kept on through torture tenfold worse, andhe showed himself no mercy.
Few people who have not been called upon to undertake such a work canform an idea of its exhausting nature. It would be hard to think ofanyone better prepared than Fred Greenwood to stand the terrific draughtupon his strength; but while a long way from the top, and while therewas no lack of supports for his hands and feet, and in the face of hisunshakable resolve, he was compelled to doubt his success. It seemed asif the dizzy height did not diminish. When he had climbed for a longtime and stopped, panting and suffering, the stars appeared to be as faraway as ever. He felt as if he ought to have been out of the ravine longbefore, but the opening looked to be as unattainable as at thebeginning.
His whole experience was remarkable to that extent that it can beexplained only on the ground that the intense mental strain preventedhis seeing things as they were. He had subjected his muscles to such atension that he was obliged to pause every few minutes and rest. One ofhis feet was scarified and bleeding, and the other only a little better.When he looked upward his heart sank, for a long distance stillinterposed between him and the ground above.
"I must have picked the place where the canyon is deepest," was hisdespairing conclusion; "I feel hardly able to hang on, and would notdare do what I did further below."
He now yielded to a curious whim. Instead of continually gazing at thesky, that he might measure the distance remaining to be traversed, heresolved not to look at it at all until he had climbed a long way. Hehoped by doing this to discover such a marked decrease in the space thatit would reanimate him for the remaining work.
Accordingly he closed his eyes, and, depending on the sense of feelingalone, which in truth was his reliance from the first, he toiledsteadily upward. Sometimes he had to grope with his hands for a minuteor two before daring to leave the support on which his feet rested, butone of his causes for astonishment and thankfulness was that such aidsseemed never to be lacking.
He continued this blind progress until his wearied muscles refused toobey further. He must rest or he would drop to the bottom fromexhaustion. He hooked his right arm over the point of a rock, sat upon afavoring projection below, and decided to wait until his strength wasfully restored.
He could not resist the temptation to look up and learn how much yetremained to do.
Could he believe his senses? He was within a dozen feet of the top!
He gasped with amazement, grew faint, and then was thrilled with hope.He even broke into a cheer, for the knowledge was like nectar to thetraveller perishing of thirst in the desert--it was life itself.
All pain, all suffering, all fatigue were forgotten in the blissfulknowledge. He bent to his work with redoubled vigor. If the supportscontinued, his stupendous task was virtually ended.
And they did continue. Not once did the eagerly-feeling hands fail tograsp a projection of some form which could be made to serve hispurpose. Up, up he went, until the clear, cool air fanned his temples,when, with a last effort, he drew himself from the canyon, and, plungingforward on his face, fainted dead away.
He lay in a semi-conscious condition for nearly an hour. Then, when hissenses slowly returned, he raised himself to a sitting position andlooked around. It was too early for the moon, and the gloom preventedhis seeing more than a few paces in any direction.
But how the pain racked him! It seemed as if every bone was aching andevery muscle sore. The feet had been wholly worn from each stocking, andhis own feet were torn and bleeding. He had preserved his shoes, butwhen he came to put them on he groaned with anguish. His feet were soswollen that it was torture to cover them, and he could not tie thestrings; but they must be protected, and he did not rise until they werethus armored.
He was without any weapons, but the torment of his wounds drove thatfact from his mind. All that he wanted now was to get away from the spotwhere he could not help believing he was still in danger of recapture.But when he stood erect and the agony shot through his frame, he askedhimself whether it was possible to travel to the plateau without help;and yet the effort must be made.
He had a general knowledge of his situation, and, bracing himself forthe effort, he began the work. It was torture from the first, but aftertaking a few steps his system partly accommodated itself to therequirement and he progressed better than he anticipated. He was stillon the wrong side of the canyon, which it was necessary t
o leave beforerejoining his friends. He was wise enough to distrust his own capacityafter the fearful strain, and did not make the attempt until he found aplace where the width was hardly one-half of the extent leaped by himand Jack Dudley. As it was, the jump, into which he put all his vigor,landed him just clear of the edge, a fact which did much to lessen thesharp suffering caused by alighting on his feet.
He yearned to sit down and rest, but was restrained by the certaintythat it would make his anguish more intense when he resumed his tramptoward camp. Furthermore, as he believed himself nearing safety, hisimpatience deepened and kept him at work when he should have ceased.
As he painfully trudged along, his thoughts reverted to his climb up theside of the canyon and he shuddered; for, now that it was over, he couldnot comprehend how he dared ever make the effort. Not for the worldwould he repeat it, even by daylight.
"Heaven brought me safely through," was his grateful thought.
But as he drew near the plateau his musings turned thither. He hadcounted upon finding Jack Dudley and the guide there; but they might bemiles away, and he would not see them for days. He knew he neededattention from his friends and could not sustain himself much longer. Ifhe should be unable to find them----
But all these gloomy forebodings were scattered a few minutes later bythe glimmer of the camp-fire on the other side of the plateau. One ofhis friends at least must be there, and providentially it proved thatboth were present.