The Mountain Divide

  CHAPTER XXI

  Slipping away behind the long warehouses in Front Street and movingswiftly in and out of friendly shadows on his long journey up thehill, Dancing started for the jail. He was hardly more than well underway when he was aware of one following him and, turning to fell himwith his fist, he started as he found it was Bucks.

  The latter confronted him coolly: "Go ahead, Bill; I am going withyou."

  "Who said you could go?" exclaimed the lineman. "You can't. Go back!"

  Bucks stood his ground.

  "Do you want to get killed?" thundered Dancing hotly.

  "Two are better than one on a job like this," returned Bucks, withoutgiving way. "Go on, will you?"

  With a volley of grumbling objections, Dancing at length directedBucks to stick close to him, whatever happened, and to fight the besthe could in case they were cornered.

  Ahead of them the glare of the conflagration lighted the sky and theair was filled with the shouts of the mob surrounding the fightingvigilantes. Only half a block away, men were hurrying up and downFront Street, while the two clambered along the obscure andhalf-opened street leading to the jail and parallel to the mainthoroughfare.

  Dancing, to whom every foot of the rocky way was familiar and whocould get over obstructions in the dark as well as if it were day, ledthe way with a celerity that kept his companion breathing fast. Bothhad long legs, but Dancing in some mysterious way planted his feetwith marvellous certainty of effect, while Bucks slipped andfloundered over rocks and brush piles and across gullies until theytook a short cut through a residence yard and found themselves on theheels of the mob surrounding the burning jail and in the glare of thefire in upper Front Street.

  "Stick close, sonny," muttered the lineman, "we must push throughthese fellows before they reco'nize us."

  He stooped as he spoke and picked up a piece of hickory--the brokenhandle of a spike-maul. "Railroad property anyway," he muttered. "Itmight come handy. But gum shoes for us now till we are forced. Perhapswe can sneak all the way through."

  Without further ado Dancing, with Bucks on his heels, elbowed his wayinto the crowd. The outer fringe of this he knew was not dangerous,being made up chiefly of onlookers. But in another minute the two werein the midst of a yelling, swaying mix-up between the aggressive moband a thin fringe of vigilantes, who, hard-pressed, had abandoned thejail to its fate and were trying to fight their way down town.

  Dancing, like a war-horse made suddenly mad by smoke of battle,throwing caution and strategy to the winds, suddenly released a yelland began to lay about him. His appearance in the fray was like thatof a bombshell timed to explode in its midst. The slugging gamblersturned in astonishment on the new fighting man, but they were notlong left in doubt as to which cause he espoused. In the next instantthey were actively dodging his flashing club, and the vigilantesencouraged as if by an angel fought with fresh vigor.

  Bucks was stunned by the suddenness of Bill's change of tactics. Itwas evident that he had completely forgotten his mission and now meantto enjoy himself in the unequal fray that he had burst in upon. Thevigilantes cried a welcome to their new ally. But one cry rose aboveevery other and that was from Dancing's own throat as he laid aboutwith his club.

  Consternation seized the rioters and they were thrown for a momentinto confusion. They then recognized Dancing and a shout went up.

  "Railroad men!" cried a dozen of the mob at once.

  And above these cries came one wheezing but stentorian voice: "You'vegot 'em now; finish 'em!"

  Bucks knew that voice. It was Rebstock.

  The crowd took up the cry, but the lineman, swinging right and leftwith terrific strength and swiftness, opened a way ahead of him whileBucks kept close by till Dancing had cut through to the vigilantes.Then, turning with them as they raised their own cry of triumph,Dancing helped to drive the discomfited rioters back.

  It was only for a moment that the vigilantes held their advantage.Outnumbering the little band, the rioters closed in on their flanksand showered stones upon them. Bill Dancing was the centre of thefight. A piece of rock laid open his scalp, but, though the mob wassure of getting him, he fought like a whirlwind. They redoubled theirefforts to bring him down. One active rioter with the seam of someother fight slashed across his forehead struck down a vigilante andran in on Dancing. It was Seagrue. The lineman, warned by Bucks,turned too late to escape a blow on the head that would have dazed abullock. But Dancing realized the instant he received the blow thatSeagrue had delivered it.

  He whirled like a wounded bear and sprang at Seagrue, taking upon hisshoulder a second blow hardly less terrific than the first. BeforeSeagrue could strike again, Dancing was upon him. Tearing at eachother's throats the two men struggled, each trying to free his rightarm. Seagrue was borne steadily backward. Then the lineman's big armshot upward and down like a trip-hammer and Seagrue sunk limp to theground.

  The vigilantes themselves, profiting by the momentary diversion, gotaway. Bucks had seen the peril of being separated from their friends,but he was powerless to avert it. As Dancing struck Seagrue down, hisenemies closed in behind the moving vigilantes. Bucks fought his wayto the lineman's side and in another instant the two were beset.Dancing, hard-pressed, made a dash to break through the circle toliberty. Half a dozen men sprang at him, and trampling Buckscompletely under foot aimed their blows at his defender.

  Dancing saw Bucks fall and, clubbing his way to his side, caught Bucksfrom the ground by the coat collar, and dragging him with his lefthand, swung with his right hand his deadly club. Nothing less wouldhave saved them. The fight, moving every instant after Dancing,reached the broad wooden steps leading from the jail yard to thestreet. Down these the lineman, stubborn and bleeding, drove adesperate way. And Bucks, able again to handle himself, was putting upa good fight when, to his horror, Dancing, fighting down the flight ofsteps, stumbled and fell.

  Half a dozen men, with a yell, jumped for him. Bucks thought thefinish had come. He sprang into the fight and, armed only with a wagonspoke, cracked right and left wherever he could reach a head. Dancinghe had given over for dead, when to his astonishment the lineman roseout of the heap about him, shaking off his enemies like rats.

  Flames shooting up from the burning jail lighted the scene. Dancing,bare-headed, and with only a part of his shirt hanging in ribbons fromhis left arm, his hair matted in blood across his forehead and hiseyes blazing, was a formidable sight. He had lost his club but he wasat no loss for a weapon. It was said of Bill Dancing in later daysthat he could lift a thirty-foot steel rail. Bucks saw him now catchup a man scrambling in front of him and swing him by the legs like abattering ram. With this victim, he mowed down men like corks, and,flinging the man at last bodily into the faces of his friends, hestarted like a deer up Cliff Street with Bucks at his heels.

  Sure that they now had him, the rioters followed in a swarm. CliffStreet, only a block long and only half-opened, terminated then at thecliffs above the gorge of the Medicine River. But darkness under thebrow of the hill helped the fleeing railroad men. Dancing dodged inand out of the undergrowth that fringed the street line and eludinghis pursuers reached the brow of the cliff unseen. The rioters,knowing that no escape lay in that direction, beat the bushes thatfringed the half-opened street, confident that the fugitives were inhiding among them.

  For an ordinary man, indeed, there was no escape toward the river. Awall of rock fell a hundred feet to the water's edge. The crowd,growing every moment as the word passed that Dancing was whipped,left the hunted man and his companion little time for decision.Dancing, in truth, needed but little. His purpose was fixed theinstant he saw himself cut off from every other chance. He halted onlyon the brink of the precipice itself. Catching Bucks's arm, he toldhim hurriedly what they must do and cautioned him. "It's the lastchance, sonny," he murmured, as his iron fingers gripped the boy'sarm. "We can make it--if you do exactly as I tell you."

  The gathering cries closed in behind them while they were taking offtheir shoes.
Creeping on his hands and knees along the brow of thecliff, Dancing felt out his location with his fingers. And with thatsixth sense of instinct which rises to a faculty when dangers thickenabout a resolute man, the lineman found what he sought.

  He caught at the root of a rock-bound cedar, swung himself over thecliff, and called to Bucks to follow. Bucks acted wholly on faith. Theblackness below was impenetrable, and perhaps better so, since hecould not see what he was undertaking. Only the roar of the rivercame up from the depths. It sounded a little ominous as Bucks,grasping the cedar root, swung over and after an agonizing instantfelt a support for his feet. He stood on a ledge of rock so narrowthat it gave only a footing even in daylight, but Bucks was called onto descend it in the middle of the night.

  For any man to have attempted the feat seemed to him, the nextmorning, sheer insanity. Dancing, however, knew the treacherous faceof the river wall. To his gigantic size and strength he united thesureness of a cat in climbing up or down a mountain arete. Often hehad crept with a telegraph wire, unaided, where his best men hung backeven in harness. There was, in fact, no time now for halting. Therioters, eager on the trail, were calling for torches, and, ifdiscovered before they reached the water, the lives of the two menwould be snuffed out by dropping rocks on their heads.

  Flattening himself as he had been bidden to do and with his cheek laidto the face of the sheer rock, clasping from time to time with hisoutstretched left hand such slight uneven surfaces as he could feel,Bucks moved to the right after Dancing, who gripped his extended righthand and led him foot by foot down the perilous way. Not a word wasspoken, hardly a breath drawn, as the lineman felt for his slipperyfoothold with the deftness of a gorilla, and, pressing Bucks's hand asthe signal to take a follow step, he made a slow but steady descent.

  The roar of the river already sounded in Bucks's ears like a cataract,but the shock of extreme danger had numbed his apprehension. Chips ofthe sharp granite cut his feet like knives, and he knew that thesticky feeling upon his bare soles was blood oozing through the brokenskin. He had already given up expectation of ever leaving the gorgealive and merely responded to his companion's will. The one thoughtthat came to his mind was curiosity as to what Dancing ever expectedto do if they reached the bottom without accident.

  Suddenly above the roar of the river he heard the muffled crack offire-arms coming as if out of another world. He wondered whether theythemselves were already being fired at, but experienced nothing morethan curiosity in the thought. Only the pressure of the big hand thatgripped his own impressed itself powerfully upon his consciousness,and at each squeeze he put his foot forward mechanically, intent on adull resolve to obey orders.

  He presently felt a new signal from the long fingers that wound aroundhis own. He tried to answer by stepping, but Dancing whose face wasturned away, restrained him. Then it flashed on Bucks that the linemanwas signalling Morse to him, and that the dot-and-dash squeezes meant:"Half-way down. Half-way down."

  Bucks answered with one word: "Hurrah!" But he squeezed it along thenerves and muscles like lightning.

  He could hear the labored breathing of his companion as he strained atintervals every particle of his strength to reach a new footing ofsafety. Every vine and scrubby bush down the cliff wall was tested forits strength and root, and Dancing held Bucks's hand so that he couldinstantly release it if he himself should plunge to death.

  Bucks had already been told that if this happened he must hang as longas he could without moving and if he could hold on till daylight hewould be rescued by railroad men. All this was going through his headwhen, responding to a signal to step down, and, unable to catch someword that Dancing whispered, he stretched his leg so far that he losthis balance. He struggled to recover. Dancing called again sharply tohim, but he was too wrought up to understand. Dizziness seized him,and resigning himself, with an exclamation, to death, he felt himselfdropping into space.

  In the next instant he was caught in Dancing's arms:

  "Gosh darn it, why didn't you jump, as I told you?" exclaimed thelineman, setting him up on his feet. "You pretty near clean upset usboth."

  "Where are we, Bill?" muttered Bucks, swallowing his shock.

  "Right here at the water, and them fellows up there beating the bushfor us. There's shooting down town, too. Some new deviltry. How good aswimmer are you, Bucks? By gum, I forgot to ask you before youstarted."

  "I can swim better than I can climb, Bill."

  "We've only a quarter of a mile and downstream at that. And thecurrent here would float a keg of nails."

  "How about rocks, Bill?" asked Bucks, peering dubiously toward theroar of the rushing river.

  "All up-stream from here," returned Dancing, edging down the shelvingtable toward the water. "Lock arms with me so I don't lose you, sonny.What in Sam Hill is that?"

  Far down the river the two saw a tongue of flame leaping into the sky.They watched it for a moment. Dancing was the first to locate theconflagration, which grew now, even as they looked, by leaps andbounds. The two stood ready to plunge into the river when a fire ofmusketry echoed up the gorge. The lineman clutched Bucks's arm.

  "There's fighting going on down there now. What's that smokestack? ByJing, the roundhouse is on fire!"