Out of the Depths: A Romance of Reclamation
CHAPTER XXVI
IN THE GLOOM
When the engineer came down to the river, Ashton still crouched low,his dripping head close over the water, as if he was afraid even tolook away from it. Blake rinsed out his mouth and stood up to sipslowly from his hat, while looking about at the awesome spectacle ofthe canyon bottom.
His first glance was at the swift-flowing stream. His eyes brightenedand the furrows in his forehead smoothed away. The river was not asformidable as its tumult and foam had threatened. It could bedescended by wading at the places where ledges and bowlders along thebase of the canyon walls failed to afford safe footing. He glanced upthe stupendous precipices at the blue-black ribbon of sky, but onlyfor a moment. His present thought was not of escape from the depths.
He bent over to grip the crouching man by the shoulder and lift him tohis feet. Ashton writhed about and glared at him like a trapped wolf.
"Let go!" he snarled. "It was an accident! I didn't mean to do it!"
"Of course not," replied Blake, releasing his grip but standing closethat he might not have to shout. "It's all right, old man--my fault.The knot slipped."
"You own it! You own it's your fault!" cried Ashton. "You've broughtme down here into this hell-pit! We can't get out! Lost! All yourfault--yours!"
He made a frantic snatch and jerked the revolver from Blake's holster.The engineer caught his wrist in an iron grasp and wrenched the weaponfrom him.
"None of that, old man," he admonished with a cool sternness thatchilled the frenzy of the other like a dash of ice water. "You're hereto do your work, and you're going to do it. Understand?"
"My work!" repeated Ashton wildly.
"Yes, your work," commanded Blake, his face as hard as iron. "We'regoing to survey Deep Canyon down to the tunnel site. Your work is tocarry rod. Do you get that?"
"Down the canyon?--deeper!"
"We can't get back up here. There's a place down there beyond thetunnel site where perhaps we can make it up the canyon wall."
"A place where we--?" shrilled Ashton. "A place--Good God! and youstand here doing nothing!"
He whirled to spring out into the swirling water. Blake was stillswifter in his movements. He caught the fugitive by the arm anddragged him back.
"Wait!" he commanded. "We must first carry the levels down to thetunnel site. You hear that? Stick by me, and I'll pull you through.Try to run, and, by God, I'll shoot you like a dog!"
The captive glared into the steel-white eyes of the engineer, angerovercoming his panicky fear.
"Let go!" he panted. "Don't worry! I'll do my work--I'll do my work!"
"If you don't, you'll never get out of this canyon," grimly rejoinedBlake. He released his hold, and started up the slope, with a curtorder: "Come along. We can rod down the slope."
Ashton followed him, silent and morose. The instrument was screwed toits tripod, and a line of levels from the foot of the last verticalmeasurement was carried down the slope to the canyon. The last rodreading was on a ledge, three feet above the water, at the corner ofthe gorge. Blake considered the reading worthy of permanent record.They had measured all the many hundreds of feet down from the top ofHigh Mesa to these profound depths. With his two-pound hammer and oneof the few remaining spikes, he chiseled a cross deep in the surfaceof the black rock.
That mark of the engineer-captain, scouting before the van of man'sNature-conquering army, was the sign of the first human beings thathad ever descended alive to the bottom of Deep Canyon.
When he had cut the cross, Blake took out his Colt's, and, gazing upthe heights, began to fire at slow intervals. Confined between thewalls of gorge and canyon, each report of the heavy revolver crashedout above the tumult of the river and ran echoing and reechoing up thestupendous precipices. Yet long before they reached the rim of thosetowering walls they blurred away and merged and were lost in theceaseless reverberations of the waters.
Blake well knew that this would happen. But he also knew that theflash of the shot would be distinctly discernible in the gloom of theabyss. As he fired, he scanned the verge of the uppermost precipices.After the fourth shot he ceased firing and flung up his hand to pointat the heights.
"Look!" he shouted. "They see! There is the flag!"
Ashton stared up with wide, feverish eyes. From an out-jutting pointof rock on the lofty rim he saw a tiny white dot waving to and froagainst the blue-black sky. The watchers above had seen the flash ofthe revolver shots and were fluttering the white flag in responsivesignal. Though on the world above the sun beat down its fullmid-afternoon flood of light, the two men in the abyss could see starstwinkling in the dark sky around the waving fleck of white.
Blake fired two shots in quick succession, the agreed signal that toldthe flag was seen. He then calmly seated himself and began to addtogether the vertical measurements taken during the descent of thegorge. But Ashton groaned and flung himself face downward on the roughstone.
Blake soon finished his sum in addition, and the result brought asmile to his serious face. He checked the figures with painstakingcarefulness, and nodded, fully satisfied. Replacing book and pencil inthe deep pocket of his shirt, he opened one of the packages of food.When he had laid out enough for a hearty meal, he looked at Ashton.The prostrate man had not stirred.
"Come, Lafe," he called encouragingly. "Time to eat."
Ashton lay still and made no response.
Blake raised his voice--"Come! You're not going to quit. You're goingto eat. You must keep your strength to fight your way through and upout of here--to _her_!"
Ashton sullenly rose and came to sit down on the rock beside theoutspread food. He was silent, but he ate even more heartily than hiscompanion. When they had finished, Blake swung his pack and level onhis shoulder, fired one shot, and stepped out into the swift butshallow river. Wading as far downstream as he could see to read therod in the twilight of the depths, he set up the tripod of hisinstrument on a rock and took the reading given him by Ashton.
The survey of the canyon itself had begun. Unappalled by the awfulheight of the mighty precipices on either side, undaunted by theuncertainty of escape, heedless of the gloom of the deep, of thetumult and rush and chill of the icy waters, the engineer boldlyadvanced to the attack of this abysmal stronghold of Primeval Nature,his square jaw set in grim determination to wrest from these hithertoinviolate depths that which he sought to learn. Whatever might follow,he must and would unlock the secret of the hidden waters. Afterwardsmight come death by slow starvation or the quick dashing down fromsome half-scaled precipice. That mattered not now. First must theengineer perform his work,--first must he execute the task that he hadset himself for the conquest of the chasm that was likely to prove histomb.
Vastly different in purpose, yet no less resolute than the engineer,Ashton joined zealously in the grim battle with the abyss--for battleit soon proved to be. Only in places was the subterranean rivershallow and easy to wade. More often it foamed in wild fury down steeprapids, to fling itself over ledges into black pools; or, worst ofall, it swirled deep and arrowy-swift between fanged rocks where thechannel narrowed.
Wading, swimming, leaping from rock to rock, scrambling up and downthe steep precipice foot, creeping along narrow shelves,--stubbornlythe explorers fought their way deeper through that wild passage.Chilled by the icy waters and bruised by many a slip on loose stonesand wet, water-polished rocks, ever they carried the line of levelsdown alongside the torrent, crossing over and back from side to side,twisting and turning with the twists and bends of the chasm. And atevery stand Blake jotted down the rod readings in his half-soaked bookwith his pencil and figured the elevation of each turning point before"pulling up" his instrument to move on downstream to the next "setup."
At the end of every half hour he fired a single shot to signal theirprogress in the depths to the watchers above. But never once did hestop to look up for the flag. Occasionally he was required to helpAshton through or over some unusually difficult passage. For the mostpart, however,
each fought his own way. The odds were not altogetherin favor of the older man. He was hampered by the care of theinstrument, which must be shielded from all blows or falls. The rod,on the contrary, served as a staff and support to Ashton, alike in thewater and on the rocks.
Some time before sunset the waning light in the canyon bottom became sodim that Blake was compelled to cease work. He took a last reading ona broad shelf of rock well above the surface of the water, joinedAshton on the shelf, and began firing the revolver at five-minuteintervals. After the fifth shot he at last perceived the white dot ofthe flag far above on the opposite brink of the chasm. He fired twoshots in quick succession, and calmly sat down to open one of thesoaked packages of food.
Ashton did not wait to be bidden to supper. He fell to on the food andate ravenously. Blake did not check him, though he himself took littleand carefully gathered up and returned to the package every scrap offood left at the end of the meal. As Ashton lay back on the rock hesquirmed from side to side and groaned. His bruises were so numerousthat he could not find a comfortable position.
"Cheer up!" grimly quoted Blake. "The worst is yet to come."
He stretched himself out on the rock-shelf and, regardless of thesullen resistance of the younger man, drew him into his arms. Chilledto the marrow by his frequent icy drenchings, Ashton was shivering inthe cold wind which came down the canyon with the approach of night.But Blake's massive body and limbs were aglow with abundant vitality.Warmed and sheltered from the wind, the exhausted man relaxed like achild in the strong arms of his companion and quickly sank into thedeep slumber of overtaxed nature.
Blake lay awake until the narrow strip of sky that showed between thevast walls of rock deepened to an inky blackness thickly sprinkledwith scintillating stars. The light of a watchfire flamed red farabove on the opposite rim of the chasm wall. To the man below it waslike the glow of human love in the chill darkness of the Unknown. Witha gesture of reverent passion and adoration, he put his fingers to hislips and flung a kiss up out of the abyss. Then he, too, relaxed onthe hard rock and sank into heavy sleep.
Ashton was the first to waken. The wind had changed, and he was rousedby the different note in the ceaseless roar of the river. He stared upat the star-jeweled sky. It was still intensely black; yet the gloomof the depths was lessened by a vague pale illumination, a faintshadow of light that might have been the ghost of a dead day. Hethought it was the gray dawn, and sought to roll over on his rock bedaway from the sheltering embrace of Blake. The engineer was still deepin profound slumber. His big arm slipped laxly from across the movingman's breast.
The change of position wrung a groan from Ashton. Every muscle in hisbody was cramped, every bruise stiff and sore. Not until he had turnedand twisted for several moments was he able to rise to his feet. Thevague ghost light about him brightened. He gazed upwards. He did notnotice the tiny flame of the fire that told of the anxious watchersabove. Out over the monstrous black wall of the abyss was drifting aburnished silver-white disk.
"The moon!" he groaned. "Only the moon! To wait here--with him!--withhim!"
He looked down at the big form of the sleeping man, and suddenly allhis pent-up rage burst its bounds. It poured through his veins instreams of fire. He stared about in fierce eagerness in search of aweapon. Blake lay upon the hilt of the revolver; the level rod lackedweight and balance. But the heavy hammer--a blow on the upturnedtemple of the sleeper!--
With the cunning stealth of madness, Ashton took up the hammer andcrept around back of Blake's head. He straightened on his knees, andpeered down at the calm, powerful face of the engineer.
What if he was a veritable Samson, this conqueror of canyons? Where nowwas his power? Sleep had bound fast his steel muscles, had numbed hisindomitable will and locked his keen intellect in the black prison ofunconsciousness.
The avenger hovered over him, gloating. Now at last was come theopportunity--the perfect opportunity, down in these uttermost depths,in the secret night time. The world above slept--and he slept. Nevershould he waken from that sleep; never should he rouse up in his evilstrength to escape out of the abyss and bring ruin to her!
Lightly the hammer swung over and downward, measuring the curve of thestroke. It lifted and poised. Again it swung down; and again it liftedand poised. The blow must be certain--there must not be the slightestchance of missing.
Each time the heavy steel head stopped a full two inches short of theupturned temple--but each time its shadow fell across the eyes of thesleeper. He stirred. The hammer whirled up, gripped in both hands ofthe kneeling man. The sleeper turned flat on his back, with his facefull to the light. A quiver ran through the tense muscles of theavenger. Had the eyes of the sleeper opened, had their lids so much asfluttered, the hammer must have crashed down.
But it was the sleeper's lips that moved. As it were by a miracle ofacuteness, the tense nerves of the other's ear caught the whisperedwords through the roaring of the river--"_Jenny! Son!_"
The hammer hurled away out into the swirl of the foam-flecked waters.The avenger flung himself about, face downward on the rock.
"God!" he sobbed, in an agony of remorse. "Forgive me, God! I cannotdo it! I am weak--unfit!... Not even to save her!--not even to saveher!"
He writhed in the anguish of his love and rage and self-abasement. Hehad failed; he was too weak to do the deed. But God--Would God permitthat evil should befall her?
He struggled to his feet and flung up his quivering hands to moon andstars and black sky in passionate invocation--"O God! You say thatvengeance is Yours; that You will repay! Take me, if You will--I givemyself! Only destroy him too! Save her! save her!"
Again Blake stirred, and this time he opened his eyes. Ashton had sunkdown in a huddled silent heap. Blake gazed up at the watchfire on theheights, smiled, and turned over to again fall asleep.