CHAPTER XXI
_In Which a Bearer of Tidings Finds Himself In Peril of His Life On a Ledge of Ice Above a Roaring Rapid_
"We passed that night at the cabin, where a roaring fire warmed me anddried my clothes," David's friend continued. "My packet of letters wassafe and dry, so I slept in peace, and we were both as chirpy assparrows when we set out the next morning. It was a clear, still day,with the sun falling warmly upon us.
"Our way now led through the bush for mile after mile--little hillsand stony ground and swamp-land. By noon we were wet to the knees; butthis circumstance was then too insignificant for remark, althoughlater it gave me the narrowest chance for life that ever came withinmy experience.
"We made Swift Rapids late in the afternoon, when the sun was low anda frosty wind was freezing the pools by the way. The post at LittleLake lay not more than three miles beyond the foot of the rapids, andwhen the swish and roar of water first fell upon our ears we hallooedmost joyfully, for it seemed to us that we had come within reachingdistance of our destination.
"'No,' said John, when we stood on the shore of the river.
"'I think we can,' said I.
"'No,' he repeated.
"The rapids were clear of ice, which had broken from the quiet waterabove the verge of the descent, and now lay heaped up from shore toshore, where the current subsided at the foot. The water was mostturbulent--swirling, shooting, foaming over great boulders. It wentrushing between two high cliffs, foaming to the very feet of them,where not an inch of bank was showing. At first glance it was nothoroughfare; but the only alternative was to go round the mountain,as my father had said, and I had no fancy to lengthen my journey byfour hours, so I searched the shore carefully for a passage.
"The face of the cliff was such that we could make our way one hundredyards down-stream. It was just beyond that point that the difficultylay. The rock jutted into the river, and rose sheer from it; neitherfoothold nor handhold was offered. But beyond, as I knew, it would beeasy enough to clamber along the cliff, which was shelving and broken,and so, at last, come to the trail again.
"'There's the trouble, John,' said I, pointing to the jutting rock.'If we can get round that, we can go the rest of the way without anydifficulty.'
"'No go,' said John. 'Come.'
"He jerked his head towards the bush, but I was not to be easilypersuaded.
"'We'll go down and look at that place,' I replied. 'There may be away.'
"There was a way, a clear, easy way, requiring no more than a bit ofnerve to pass over it, and I congratulated myself upon persisting toits discovery. The path was by a stout ledge of ice, adhering to thecliff and projecting out from it for about eighteen inches. The riverhad fallen. This ledge had been formed when it was at its highest, andwhen the water had subsided the ice had been left sticking to therock. The ledge was like the rim of ice that adheres to a tub when abucketful of freezing water has been taken out.
"I clambered down to it, sounded it, and found it solid. Moreover, itseemed to lead all the way round, broadening and narrowing as it went,but wide enough in every part. I was sure-footed and unafraid, so atonce I determined to essay the passage. 'I am going to try it!' Icalled to John, who was clinging to the cliff some yards behind andabove me. 'Don't follow until I call you.'
"'Look out!' said he.
"'Oh, it's all right,' I said, confidently.
"I turned my back to the rock and moved out, stepping sidewise. Itwas not difficult until I came to a point where the cliff isoverhanging--it may be a space of twelve feet or less; then I had tostoop, and the awkward position made my situation precarious in theextreme, for the rock seemed all the while bent on thrusting me off.
"The river was roaring past. Below me the water was breaking over agreat rock, whence it shot, swift and strong, against a boulder whichrose above it. I could hear the hiss and swish and thunder of it; andhad I been less confident in my foothold, I might then and there havebeen hopelessly unnerved. There was no mercy in those seethingrapids.
"'A fall would be the end of me,' I thought; 'but I will not fall.'
"Fall I did, however, and that suddenly, just after I had rounded thepoint and was hidden from John's sight. The cold of the late afternoonhad frozen my boots stiff; they had been soaked in the swamp-lands,and the water was now all turned to ice.
"My soles were slippery and my feet were awkwardly managed. Islipped.
"My feet shot from under me. A flash of terror went through me. Then Ifound myself lying on my hip, on the edge of the shelf with my legsdangling over the rapids, my shoulder pressing the cliff, my handsflat on the ice, and my arms sustaining nearly the whole weight of mybody.
"At that instant I heard a thud and a splash, as of something strikingthe water, and turning my eyes, I perceived that a section of the snowledge had fallen from the cliff. It was not large, but it was betweenJohn and me, and the space effectually shut him off from myassistance.
"My problem was to get to my feet again. But how? The first effortpersuaded me that it was impossible. My shoulder was against thecliff. When I attempted to raise myself to a seat on the ledge Isucceeded only in pressing my shoulder more firmly against the rock.Wriggle as I would, the wall behind kept me where I was. I could notgain an inch. I needed no more, for that would have relieved my armsby throwing more of my weight upon my hips.
"I was in the position of a boy trying to draw himself to a seat on awindow-sill, with the difference that my heels were of no help to me,for they were dangling in space. My arms were fast tiring out. Theinch I needed for relief was past gaining, and it seemed to me thenthat in a moment my arms would fail me, and I should slip off into theriver.
"'Better go now,' I thought, 'before my arms are worn out altogether.I'll need them for swimming.'
"But a glance down the river assured me that my chance in the rapidswould be of the smallest. Not only was the water swift and turbulent,but it ran against the barrier of ice at the foot of the rapids, andit was evident that it would suck me under, once it got me there.
"Nor was there any hope in John's presence. I had told him to staywhere he was until I called; and, to be sure, in that spot would hestay. I might call now. But to what purpose? He could do nothing tohelp me. He would come to the gap in the ledge, and from there peepsympathetically at me. Indeed, he might reach a pole to me, as he haddone on the day before, but my hands were fully occupied, and I couldnot grasp it. So I put John out of my mind,--for even in theexperience of the previous day I had not yet learned my lesson,--anddetermined to follow the only course which lay open to me, desperatethough it was.
"'I'll turn on my stomach,' I thought, 'and try to get to my knees onthe ledge.'
"I accomplished the turn, but in the act I so nearly lost my hold thatI lost my head, and there was a gasping lapse of time before Irecovered my calm.
"In this change I gained nothing. When I tried to get to my knees Ibutted my head against the overhanging rock, nor could I lift my footto the ice and roll over on my side, for the ledge was far too narrowfor that. I had altered my position, but I had accomplished no changein my situation. It was impossible for me to rest more of my weightupon my breast than my hips had borne. My weakening arms still had tosustain it, and the river was going its swirling way below me, just asit had gone in the beginning. I had not helped myself at all.
"There was nothing for it, I thought, but to commit myself to theriver and make as gallant a fight for life as I could. So at last Icalled John, that he might carry our tidings to their destination andreturn to Fort Red Wing with news of a sadly different kind.
"'Ho!' said John.
"He was staring round the point of rock; and there he stood, unable toget nearer.
"'Ice under,' said he, indicating a point below me. 'More ice. Letdown.'
"'What?' I cried. 'Where?'
"'More ice. Down there,' said he. 'Like this. Let down.'
"Then I understood him. Another ledge, such as that upon which I hung,had been f
ormed in the same way, and was adhering to the rock beneath.No doubt there was a pool on the lower side of the point, and justbelow me, and the current would be no obstacle to the formation ofice. I had looked down from above, and the upper ledge had hidden thelower from me; but John, standing by the gap in the upper, could seeit plainly.
"So I had but to let myself down until my feet rested on the newledge, and this I did, with extreme caution and the expenditure of thelast ounce of strength in my arms. Then a glance assured me that theway was clear to the shelving cliff beyond.
"'You go,' said John. 'I go round.'
"'All right,' said I. 'And, say! I wish I'd called you before.'
"'Ho!' said he, as he vanished.
"When John reached the Little Lake post late that night, the tidingsof the safe return of the Hudson Bay Geological Expedition were on theway south by another messenger, and the company's physician was movingover the trail towards Fort Red Wing, making haste to the aid of theyoung professor, whom, indeed, he soon brought back to health. Thepassage by the ledge of ice had resulted in a gain of three hours, butwhether or not it saved the professor's life I do not know. I do notthink it did. It nearly cost me mine, but I had no thought of thatwhen I essayed it, so my experience reflects no credit upon mewhatever. I take fewer rash and reckless chances now on land andwater, and I am not so overreliant upon my own resources.
"I have learned that a friend's help is of value."
At that moment the Ruddy Cove mail-boat entered the Tickle.