CHAPTER XXXII
OVER THE BRINK
Isobel came back to him, noiselessly gliding around through thedarkness. She set down the bundle she was carrying, and hung blanketsover the entrance of the little cave. She then lighted the lantern. Heheld out his bound hands. She unbound them enough for him to use hisfingers, and taking the baby and the pistol, crouched down, with herear close to the screening blankets, while he exchanged his tatteredclothes for those she had brought to him.
There were also his change of boots and a pair of Blake's gauntletgloves, into which he was able to force his slender fingers withoutremoving the remaining bandages. Isobel had already bound up into akind of knapsack the food and clothing and first-aid package that hewas to take down to her injured brother. He slung it upon his back,and whispered that he was ready.
She nestled the baby in the warm blankets on which he had lain,wrapped a blanket about the lantern, and led him cautiously down tothe brink of the chasm. Dark as was the night about them, it wasbright compared with the intense blackness of that profound abyss.The girl caught his arm and shrank back from the edge.
"You will not fall? you are certain you will not fall?" shewhispered.
"I cannot fall," he answered with calm conviction. "He needs me. I amgoing down to him. Besides, it will be easier with the lantern than ifI could see below."
"Do not uncover the light until you are down over the edge.--Wait!"
She stooped to knot the rope that he had brought up from the depths,to the lariats with which he had been dragged up the last ledges. Shelooped the end about his waist.
"There," she said. "I shall at least be able to help you down thefirst fifty yards."
"God bless you and keep you! Good-by!" he murmured in a choking voice,and he hastily crept down to slip over the first ledge of thatnight-shrouded Cyclopean ladder.
"Lafe!" she whispered. "Surely you do not mean to go without firsttelling me--I cannot let you go until--If you should fall! Wait,dearest! Kiss me--tell me that you--Oh, if you should fall!"
"I will not fall; I cannot. Good-by!"
The dim white blotch of his face disappeared below the verge. The linejerked through the girl's hands. She clutched it with franticstrength and flung herself back with her feet braced against a pointof rock. After a moment of tense straining, the rope slackened, andhis voice came up to her over the ledge: "Pay out, please. It's allright. I've found a crevice."
She eased off on the line a few inches at a time, but always keepingit taut and always holding herself braced for a sudden jerk. At lastthe end came into her hand. She had to lie out on the rim-rock andcall down to him. He called back in a tone of quiet assurance. Theline slackened. He had cast it loose. The lantern glowed out in theblackness and showed him standing on a narrow shelf.
As Isobel bent lower to gaze at him, a frightful scream rang out abovethe booming of the canyon. It was a shriek such as a woman would utterin mortal fear. The girl drew back from the verge, her hair stiffeningwith horror. Could it be possible that Genevieve had lost her way andwas wandering back to camp, and that Gowan--
Again the fearful scream pierced the air. Isobel looked quickly acrosstowards the far side of the canyon. She could see nothing, but she drewin a deep sigh of relief. The second cry had told her that it was onlya mountain lion, over on the other brink of the chasm.
When she again looked down at Ashton he was descending a crevice witha rapidity that brought her heart into her mouth. Yet there was nohurry in his quick movements, and every little while he paused on ashelf to peer at the steep slope immediately below him. Soon thecircle of lantern light became smaller and dimmer to the anxiouswatcher above. Steadily it waned until all she could see was a littlepoint of light far down in the darkness--and always it grew smallerand fainter.
Lying there with her bosom pressed against the hard stone, herstraining eyes fixed on that lessening point of light, she had lostall count of time. Her whole soul was in her eyes, watching, watching,watching lest that tiny light should suddenly shoot down like a meteorand vanish in the darkness. Many times it disappeared, but never inswift downward flight, and always it reappeared.
Not until the moon came gliding up above the lofty white crests of thesnowy range did she think of aught else than that speck of light andof him who was bearing it down into the black depths. But the glint ofmoonlight on a crystalline stone broke her steadfast gaze. Before shecould again fix it on the faint point of lantern light a sound thathad been knocking at the threshold of her consciousness at last madeitself heard. It was an intermittent clinking as of steel on stone.
She looked around, thinking that one of the horses was walking alongthe ridge slope with a loose shoe. But all were standing motionless inthe moonlight, dozing. Again she heard the click, and this time shelocated the direction from which it came. She looked at the split rockon the edge of the sheer drop. From beside it she had peered downthrough the field glasses at the outstretched form of her brother, farbeneath in the canyon bottom.
The sound came from that rock. She stared at the side of thefrost-split fragment with dilated eyes. The crack between the looseouter bowlder and the main mass showed very black and wide in themoonlight. Could it be possible that it had widened--that it wasslipping over? And her brother down there beneath it!...
* * * * *
By setting wedge-shaped stones in the top of the cleft rock and pryingwith the crowbar, Gowan had gradually canted the top of the looseouter bowlder towards the edge of the precipice. It had only to toppleforward in order to plunge down the canyon wall. He was working assilently as he could, but with a fierce eagerness that caused anoccasional slip of the crowbar on the rock.
Although the great block of stone weighed over two tons, its base wassmall and rounded, and the mass behind it gave him leverage for hisbar. Every inch that he pried it forward, the stones slipped fartherdown into the widening crack and held the vantage he had gained.Already the bowlder had been pushed out at the top many inches. Itwas almost balanced. The time had come to see if he could not pry itover with a single heave.
He did not propose to fall over after the rock. He turned his face tothe brink, set the end of the bar in the crevice, and braced himselfto heave backwards on the outer end. He put his weight on it andpulled. He could feel the rock give--the top was moving outward. Alittle more, and it must topple over.
Close behind him spoke a voice so hoarse and low-pitched with horrorthat it sounded like a man's--"Drop that bar! drop it!"
With the swiftness of a wolf, he bounded sideways along the rim-rock.In the same lightning movement, he whirled face about and whipped hisColt's from its holster. His finger was crooking against the triggerbefore he saw who it was that confronted him. The hammer fell in thesame instant that he twitched the muzzle up and sideways. The heavybullet scorched the girl's cheek.
Above the crashing report rose a wild cry, "Miss Chuckie--God!"
Through the blinding, stinging powder-smoke she saw him staggerbackwards as if to flee from what he thought he had done. His footwent down over the sharp edge. He flung up his hands and dropped intothe abyss.
She did not shriek. She could not. Her tongue clove to the roof ofher mouth. Her heart stopped beating. She crumpled down and laygasping. But the fascination of horror spurred her to struggle to herknees and creep over to peer down from the place where he had fallen.
Beneath her was only blank, utter darkness. No sound came up out ofthe deep except only that ceaseless reverberation of the hidden river.Twelve hundred feet down, the falling man had struck glancingly uponthe smooth side of an out-jutting rock and his crushed body had beenflung far out and sideways. It plunged into the rapids below thebarrier and was borne away down the canyon. But this the girl could nothave seen even in midday.
She looked for the red star of the distant fire where she knew herbrother was lying. She could not see it. The point upon which thefalling man had struck shut off her view. The other side of
the splitrock was where she and Genevieve had looked down through the glassesand seen Blake. She failed to realize the difference in the change ofposition. Her horror deepened. She thought that Gowan had hurledstraight down to the bottom with all the terrific velocity of thatsheer drop, and that he had plunged upon the fire and upon the dearform outstretched beside it, to crush and mangle and be crushed andmangled. The thought was too frightful for human endurance.
A long time she lay in a swoon, her head on the very edge of thebrink. It was the wailing of the hungry, frightened baby that at lastcalled her back to life and action. She dragged herself up around tothe hiding place. The neglected baby was not easy to quiet. The creamhad soured. There was nothing that she could give him except water.All the eggs that were left she had put in the knapsack that Ashtonwas carrying down to her brother. The baby now showed the full reflexof his mother's long hours of anxiety and fear. He fretted and criedand would not be comforted.
The chill of approaching dawn forced her to rebuild the outburnt fire.The warm glow and the play of the flames diverted the child and hushedhis outcry. Holding him so that he might continue to watch the dancingtongues of fire, the girl sat motionless, going over and over again inher mind all that had occurred since the tattered, bleeding,purple-faced climber had come straining up out of the depths.... Itcould not have happened--it was all a hideous dream.... Would theynever come? Must she sit here forever--alone!