by Joan Clark
Chapter IX
OVER THE TOP
"Well! If you know the way out, why don't you say so?" Dorothy flared inexasperation.
"What?" returned Bill vaguely.
He was walking across the side of the hill, keeping beneath the end ofthe rocky overhang forty feet above his head. The light from hiselectric torch swept along the edge of this seemingly unsurmountableobstruction. Then it darted out and upward as if to pierce the drippingnight above.
"Did you speak?" he amended, looking back at her. "Thought I heard yousay something, but couldn't quite catch it."
His voice was as sincere as the words he had just uttered, but Dorothy'sreply was caustic.
"I said why keep the secret to yourself? All this stuff about how Terrygot down and we are supposed to get up is keeping me on pins andneedles. If Terry left a rope ladder or something hanging over the edgelast summer, it must be gone by now."
"No, he didn't use a rope ladder--"
"Well, it looks to me as if we'd have to fly up if we ever want to getto the top of this ridge! I don't know whether you're _trying_ totantalize me--but you're succeeding, all right. For goodness' sake,Bill, if you know the answer, tell me."
"I'm sorry, Dorothy," he called repentantly. He ran up the inclinetoward her. "I didn't mean to leave you in the soup--I ought to haverealized--Look, I'm awfully sorry," he repeated in sincere contrition.
"Oh, that's all right, Bill." She was embarrassed now. "I had nobusiness to get so shirty." Under the light of the torch, their eyes metin a smile of friendly understanding.
"But please tell me what it is you're trying to find?"
"Why, the tree--I honestly thought I'd told you about it before."
"What tree?" she asked patiently.
"The one that Terry used to get down here. It's our only hope."
"But I don't see any tree. If there is one, how is it going to help us?"
Bill took her hand and gave it a little pat.
"Come over here with me," he said, and led the way toward the spot wherehe had been standing.
"But Bill--there's no tree up there--"
"Wait until I get the light on it. There you are!"
And there was a tree, after all. But instead of pointing toward theheavens like any other tree she had ever seen, this Colorado spruce grewsideways out from the top of the cliff. With the exception of a fewtufts on the top, its branches grew only on the upper side of thehorizontal trunk, giving it more the appearance of a ragged hedge thanan honest-to-goodness tree.
"I get you," she said slowly. "The tree--and the rope."
"Aha! young lady, you're not so dumb as you'd sometimes like people tothink!"
"But is the rope long enough?"
"Hope so. Terry claimed he used it double."
"Yes?" she said doubtfully. "But will the tree hold us both? You've beena sailor, but I don't think I'm up to climbing a swinging rope, handover hand after coming up that chimney." She thought for a moment, thenwent on. "There's only one way I can get up there. You'll have to tieone end of the rope to a stone and sling it over the trunk. When thatend drops, we can take out the stone, I'll stick my foot in the loopand--"
"Bill Bolton pulls you up," he ended for her. "That listens well,Dorothy, and if the rope was running through a pulley up there,everything would be hunky-dory. As it is, she'll be chafing against ahard, uneven surface. I'd probably pull the tree down, even if I wasable to get you off the ground."
"But my arms feel dead--right up to my shoulders."
"I know, kid. But you can do it, after I fix the rope and you havelashed your end to this big bush here. It's going to be a case of shinfor you, not hand over hand climb. Although that's not so hard when youknow how. Like most things, there's a knack to it."
"All right. I'll do my best."
"You'll make it," he assured her. "If you'll untie that end of the ropefrom around your waist, I'll hunt up a rock and we'll get busy."
Presently a heavy stone was fastened to the rope end.
"Stand clear," sang out Bill. Then as she stepped back, he swung thestone round and round in a vertical circle, much as a seaman heaves thelead for a sounding.
Up went the stone and the rope, and Dorothy watched with bated breathwhile she pointed the torch for guidance. She saw it swing over the treetrunk and drop to earth on the farther side.
"Snappy work, Bill," she applauded. "Who goes first? You or me?"
"This is a case where gentlemen take precedence. I'll go first--and showyou a little trick they teach midshipmen at Annapolis."
He untied the knot which held the stone and bringing the ends togetherpulled the rope until the lengths on both sides of the trunk were even.
"So long," he breezed, "see you anon!"
With a hand on either rope he swung himself upward, seemingly withouteffort. It was as though he were lifting a penny-weight rather than onehundred and seventy-five pounds of solid American bone and muscle. Thenwith a quick movement he twisted the slack ends about his thighs, andthe girl was amazed to see him let go both hands and wave.
"It's a way we have in the Navy," he laughed. "Quite a comfortableseat--if you know how. Skirts are rather in the way, so I don't adviseyou to try it. Although I must say in parting that you have alreadyparted with the greater part of your skirt."
Dorothy giggled. "What of it? There's a perfectly good pair of bloomersunderneath." She was amused by his fooling, though she suspected he wastrying to put heart into her.
Bill coughed. "Finicky persons of British extraction might claim thatyour last statement was a decided bloomer itself--but I digress--" hewent on, in the manner of a barker at a side show. "Laydees andgen-tel-men--I wish to state that William Bolton, late tiddledywinkschampion of the Nutmeg State, is about to give his famous impersonationof a monkey on a stick!"
His hands grasped the ropes above his head. Up came his body, the turnsabout his thighs providing an apparently comfortable seat or purchase,while his hands shot upward again. The speed with which he went throughthese movements was remarkable, the swiftness of his passage up theropes only comparable to an East Indian running up a cocoanut palm.Before Dorothy could believe her eyes, he was sitting astride the treetrunk, hauling up the rope.
"That was marvelous!" she called up to him. "Some day you'll have toshow me how you do it."
"O.K.!"
She saw now that one end of the rope was coming slowly down again. As itsank nearer, her torch brought to view the fact that it was knottedevery few feet. Soon she was able to catch the swinging end.
"Make it fast to that bush," he commanded.
She did as she was told and turned to him for further orders.
Bill pulled the rope taut, then lashed his end about the trunk close tothe point where the tree jutted out from the rock. That done he slashedthe loose half free with his knife just above the knot.
"That gives us a hauling line," she heard him say. "I'll hang on to thisend--you knot the other about your waist."
She caught the end that he threw down and after fastening it securelyabout her, peered up at him again.
"All right for me to shin up?" she asked, with a hand on the knottedrope that was to act as her ladder to the dizzy height above.
"Wait till I get back on terra firma--this tree won't stand our combinedweights."
Perhaps a minute elapsed. Then she heard his voice again, though shecould no longer see him.
"Come ahead!" he directed. "Sing out when you start and let me know if Ipull too hard."
Dorothy switched off the light and slipped the torch down the back ofher frock where it was caught in the blouse made by the line about herwaist.
"Ready!" she called and grasping the taut rope, she started to shin up.
Almost immediately she was helped on her way by a steady pull on theline Bill was holding. The going was difficult but the knots held herand kept her from slipping. Notwithstanding aching arm and leg muscles,it
was surprising how easily she was able to hoist herself upward withthe added pull from above. The actual distance to be climbed was not sogreat, but it seemed unbelievably soon when her hands touched the treetrunk.
Bill called a warning. "Get a good purchase around the rope with yourlegs, then lift your arms--take hold of the branches on top of the trunkand heave!"
She felt a stronger pull on the rope; her hands grasped two uprightbranches and she was dragged upward and on to the tree. Bill caught herunder her arms and swung her on to the rock. Then he picked her upbodily and carried her back a few yards from the edge of the chasm.
"Hurray! We're up!" he gasped and let her down on solid ground.
Dorothy did not reply. For a moment speech was beyond her. She sank downon a boulder. After a little while she untied the rope that belted herand producing the electric torch, handed it to Bill.
"Snap on the light, will you?--while I take stock of the damage. I knowI'm a wreck, but it's just as well to learn the worst at once."
"Rather rumpled," he pronounced as he complied with her request. "Goodnight! You've only got one shoe!"
"Lost the other coming up the rope. This one is no good either. What'sleft of it is just a mass of soaking pulp."
Then she laughed softly as she brushed some spruce needles from herknees and picked a malicious little bit of flint from the palm of onehand. Her wet skirt was in ribbons. She saw that her stockings were amass of ladders now, and she had a suspicion that her knickers weretorn. But what did such trifles matter when one was bent upon a greatachievement?
"Pretty bad," she admitted and stood up on one foot. "Hand me myslicker, please. This rig is beyond repair--that will keep some of thewind out. Gee, it's chilly!"
"And wet," he added grimly, as he helped her into the coat. "Sorry tohave to remind you, Dorothy, but we've got to be on our way, again."
"I don't think I can go any further, Bill."
He knew this to be a candid statement of fact, not a complaint.
"But we must, Dorothy. They are coming after us, you know."
"Not up this cliff! Unless, you mean--" her voice was troubled, "therope! Could you slide down ours and untie that from the bushes, thenshin up again?"
"I could, but it isn't necessary. They aren't coming that way."
"Is there another way?"
"Yes, for them. By the road across the valley and around by either ofthe entrances to the reservation."
"Why are you so sure?"
"Because while I was out on the tree trunk, I saw lights going up thehill. Then a car which evidently had been parked down the road fromStoker's house, started off toward the Boutonville entrance. Whichmeans, of course, that they'll motor in on the Boutonville road. Thatcrosses the reservation. Then all they've got to do is to leave the carat the mouth of the Fire Tower trail and hike down here along the top ofthe cliffs. They've cut off any retreat down the cliffs on our part,too. Those birds intend to catch us--or rather, they want to get hold ofStoker pretty badly. They've left men down in the valley, I saw theirlights."
"Well, it will take them some time to walk over here from theBoutonville road," Dorothy said wearily. "I'm going to sleep. I've gotto."
"You can't--not in this rain. And you're soaked through into thebargain." Bill's tone was firm. "Wait a minute--I've got an idea."
Dorothy, who was half dozing with her back to the boulder, opened hereyes with an effort. She saw him draw forth a paper from his pocket,unfold it and study it with the aid of the lighted torch.
"This is a map of Poundridge Reservation," he explained. "Here's a trailthat leads back from Raven Rocks to the Spy Rock Trail. This end of itmust be about a hundred yards along the cliffs to our left, if I've gotmy bearings right. Listen, Dorothy! These two trails meet about a mileand a half from here--and close by is a cabin. It's marked Shelter No. 6on the map. Once in there we'll be under cover. These shelters arerented to campers during the summer, you know. There's sure to be afireplace. I'll find the dry wood and we can dry out and get warm."
Dorothy yawned and shut her eyes again.
"No use, Bill. I hate to be a short sport--but I'm just all in. Chancesare we'd find the cabin locked when we got there."
Bill put the map back in his pocket.
"I don't blame you," was what he said. "I'm used to roughing it and Idon't feel any too scrumptious myself. But we've got to do something.The gang will be here in less than an hour. But I must admit that Idon't see how you're going to walk a mile and a half with only oneshoe."
He looked down at Dorothy. She was fast asleep.
