by Roy J. Snell
CHAPTER XVI A PERILOUS GLIDE
As she dashed after her companion, Marion felt a dizzy wave of faintnesssweep over her. With her knees all but refusing to support her, sheseemed in danger of plunging head foremost down the mountain side. By asupreme effort she regained control of herself and, still gripping thelong squirrel rifle, followed on as best she could.
After stumbling through brush and over logs, with the baying of houndsgrowing louder in their ears, they came to the bed of a small ravine.There was water here and it offered better going. Besides, it might throwthe hounds off the trail. So, sometimes to their ankles and sometimes totheir knees in water, they plunged forward.
"Keep the rifle dry," Patience panted back. "We may need it."
"Would--would you shoot?" Marion asked.
"I'd shoot anything to save Hallie."
The child, now half awake, was crying softly to herself.
Suddenly Patience came to a standstill.
"Listen!" she whispered.
Marion did listen, and what she heard caused her to shrink back in fear.Above the baying of the hounds and the shouts of men who had doubtlessdiscovered that Hallie was gone, came the sound of water as it rushedover the cliff to dash upon the rocks far below. So near did it seem thatMarion shrank back in fear lest she be washed over the precipice.
"Blocked!" she whispered.
"Here," said Patience, "you take Hallie. Give me the rifle. Now come on.It may not be too late." She went scrambling up the bank of the ravine.Twice she slipped and seemed about to fall back, but each time graspedthe friendly branch of some shrub for support. Many times she held out ahelping hand to the other less experienced climber.
At last with a deep breath, Patience leaped upon the crest of the ridge.
"Listen!" she whispered. "The hounds! They've lost the scent. The waterdid that. There's a chance yet. C'mon!"
So weary were her limbs, so spent her strength, that Marion felt shewould rather lie down and die than to go on, but the thought of theinnocent child she protected gave her new strength. So down the otherside of the ridge they dashed.
"Here's hoping for better luck this time," sighed Patience as she partedthe bushes that lined the next ravine. Hardly had she thrust her rightfoot forward than she slipped, then started gliding downward. Only afortunate grab at an overhanging bough saved her from a fall.
"What is it?" asked Marion.
"It's a skidway for logs," whispered Patience, struggling to regain herfooting. "It's our chance. We'll have to be careful, awful careful, butit will take us to the river. Mebby down there in the bottoms there'ssome one who'll help us."
With a few well chosen words she explained to her companion that when thewhite wood timber had been cut down from the mountains some yearsprevious the woodsmen had felled trees into the ravine and having trimmedthe branches from them had formed of them a steep chute down whichthousands of logs had been sent gliding and booming to the river.
"It's slippery," the mountain girl warned, "but if we are careful we canmake it. Hold Hallie with one hand, hug the bank and cling to brancheswith the other. I'll go before you. If you slip I'll try to stop you."
Then in silence, foot by foot, yard by yard, rod by rod, they made theirway down the treacherous pathway. Now they came upon a moss-grown portionthat was safe as a sidewalk, and now there lay before them the shiningwhiteness of logs over which water had run until they were smooth aspolished mahogany. Gliding, climbing, faltering, they made their waydownward.
"Listen!" whispered Patience at last. "The hounds! They're on our trailagain."
Then sudden disaster from a new field threatened. At a slight bend in theravine they came upon a log chute. A great quantity of debris--twigs,rotten limbs, leaves and dead grass had collected in the chute and thewhole lay directly in the path. As they climbed confidently upon it thewhole mass broke away and the next moment, like children on a pillow in aplay chute, they were gliding downward.
Faster, faster, with fear tugging at their hearts, they flew downward.With no power to help themselves, dumb with apprehension they sat there,sensing brush and trees rushing past them, feeling the sharp cut ofleaves on their cheeks until Marion found her tongue to scream:
"Patience, are we going into the river?"
"If--if nothing happens first," stammered the mountain girl, for thefirst time truly frightened.
"Can you swim?"
"Yes, can you?"
"Yes. Listen, Patience. We are older, we can stand much. Hallie is asmall child. The cold of the river will kill her. Take off your cape andmake it into a ball. Try to keep it dry. I'll do the best I can toprotect her. Somehow we'll make shore. We--"
At that instant her lips were sealed by the sight that burst upon herstartled eyes. Apparently directly beneath them, its silently sweepingwaters yellow and swollen by recent rains, lay the river and upon it,having just emerged from behind a cloud, shone the moon.
The perils that lay before the two girls and their small charge, thoughgreat enough, were not so imminent as they had appeared. A sudden turn inthe chute brought them to a more gradual slope. When at last theircushion of debris floated out upon the river, so slight was the splash itmade that it seemed hard to believe that they had reached the end oftheir perilous glide to safety. But there was still danger, for all toosoon their frail raft was water-logged and sinking.
"Remember the cape," cautioned Marion as, with her left hand holdinglittle Hallie tightly upon what was left of the raft, she struck out intothe dark, chilling waters.
"Let--let's keep together," she called through chattering teeth."It--it's going to be hard, but we can make it. Let--let's try for theother shore."
Patience struck boldly out before her.
In spite of Marion's best efforts to protect the child, she was gettingwet. She began to cry. The cry wrenched the older girl's heart. "If thewater makes my teeth chatter, what must it mean to her!" she thought.
"Look!" she called to Patience. "What's that off to the right?"
"Looks like a log, a saw log. Ought we try for it?"
"Yes."
Instantly the course was changed. A moment later they were clamberingaboard a great log of white wood that buoyed them up as easily as a boat.
Sitting astride the log, Marion wrapped Patience's warm dry cape aboutthe child. Hardly a moment had elapsed before her crying ceased.
Of all the strange experiences that had come to Marion, this was the mostweird. To have escaped from hounds and kidnappers with a child, to havecome gliding down here in such a strange manner, to find herself sittingastride a huge log surrounded by black, rushing waters, and glidingsteadily forward to an unknown destination, this was adventure of themost stirring kind. But Marion found little enough time for suchreflections. Now that she had come to a time of inaction she began torealize how cold the water and night air were. She was seized with such afit of shivering that she feared she would be shaken off the log.
"The wat--the water's better than this," she chattered, yet for the sakeof the peacefully sleeping child she decided to endure the torture aslong as possible.
Trees and bushes along the river's bank swept by. A dog at some cabinbarked. Off in the far distance a light flickered, then went out. Thecold was becoming easier to bear. She was growing drowsy. She wanted tosleep. Sleep--yes, that was what she needed. Sleep, one wink of sleep.Her head fell upon her breast. The cold was overcoming her, but she didnot realize it.
She dreamed she had left the log, to find a roaring fire right by theriver's bank, by which she was warming herself. Suddenly a jolt whichalmost threw her from the log rudely brought her back to life.
"Wha--what is it!" she exclaimed, gripping Patience with one hand andclinging frantically to the sleeping child with the other.
"We've gone aground," said Patience. "If we're careful we can getashore."
Three minutes later, beside a clump of paw-paw bushes, they were wringingthe water fr
om their garments.
"I saw a light just over yonder," said Patience. "We'd better try to findit."
A very few steps and they were out of the brush and on a well beatenroad. A quarter mile down this road they came suddenly upon a broadclearing, in the midst of which were three large white buildings.
"A school!" exclaimed Marion. "The mission school! Oh, we are safe!"
For a moment, worn out as she was by over-exertion, excitement and cold,she was obliged to battle with an almost overwhelming desire to drop inher tracks. Her splendid will, however, stood her in good stead and witha firm "Let's go on," she led the way.
