The Edward S. Ellis Megapack

by Edward S. Ellis

  For a short distance, the way was so broken that his progress was slow. He found himself clambering up a ledge of rocks, then he was forced to make his way around some massive boulders, and in picking his way along a steep place, the gravelly earth gave way beneath his weight, and he slid fully a hundred feet before he could check himself. His descent was so gradual that he was not bruised in the slightest, but he was nearly buried beneath the gravel and dirt that came rattling down after him.

  “I wish I could travel all the way home that way,” he laughed, as he picked himself up. “I would soon get there, and wouldn’t have to work very hard, either.”

  But this was not very profitable work, and when he had quaffed his fill from a small rivulet of icy-cold water, he was conscious of the importance of going forward without any further delay.

  “I guess the best thing I can do is to get back in that ravine or pass without any more foolery. It looks as though the way was open ahead yonder.”

  It was useless to attempt to retrace his steps, for it was impossible to climb up that incline, which came so near burying him out of sight, so he moved forward, with rocks all around him—right, left, in the rear, and in the front. There was considerable stunted vegetation, also, and, as the day was quite warm, and no wind could reach him, he found the labor of traveling with a heavy rifle anything but fun. Still, he had no thought of giving up, or even halting to rest, so long as his strength held out, and he kept it up until he concluded that it was about time that he reached the ravine for which he aimed from the first.

  “It must be right ahead, yonder,” he said, after pausing to survey his surroundings. “I’ve kept going toward it ever since I picked myself up, and I know I wasn’t very far away.”

  He had been steadily ascending for a half hour, and he believed that he had nearly reached the level upon which he had spent the night. His view was so shut in by the character of his surroundings, that he could recognize nothing, and he was compelled, therefore, to depend upon his own sagacity.

  Fred had enough wit to take every precaution against going astray, for he had learned long since how liable any one in his circumstances was to make such a blunder. He fixed the position of the sun with regard to the ravine, and as the orb was only a short distance above the horizon, he was confident of keeping his “reckoning.”

  “That’s mighty strange!” he exclaimed, when, having climbed up the place he had fixed in his mind, he looked over and found nothing but a broken country beyond. “There is n’t anything there that looks like the pass I’m looking for.”

  He took note of the position of the sun, and then carefully recalled the direction of the ravine with regard to that, and he could discover no error in the course which he had followed. According to the reasoning of common sense, he ought to strike it at right angles. But just then he recalled that the gorge did not follow a straight line. Had it done so, he would have succeeded in what he had undertaken, but it was otherwise, and so he failed.

  “I’ll try a little more.”

  With no little labor, he climbed to an eminence a short distance away, where he hoped to gain a glimpse of the promised land; but the most studied scrutiny failed to show anything resembling the pass.

  “I’m lost!” he exclaimed, in despair.

  CHAPTER XXIII

  A Perilous Passage

  Fred Munson was right. In his efforts to regain the pass by which he had entered the mountains, he had gone astray, and he knew no more in what direction to turn than if he had dropped from the moon. The sun was now well up above the horizon, and he not only had the mortification of feeling that he had lost much precious time, but that he was likely to lose much more.

  With the feeling of disappointment came that of hunger, and he questioned himself as to how he was likely to obtain that with which to stave off the pangs of hunger.

  “There isn’t any use of staying here,” he exclaimed, desperately, “unless I want to lie down and die, and I ain’t quite ready for that yet. It is pretty sure the ravine ain’t straight ahead, so it must be more to one side.”

  And, acting upon this conclusion, he made quite a change in the direction he was pursuing, moving off to the left, and encouraging himself with the fact that the pass must be somewhere, and he had only to persevere in exploring each point of the compass to reach it at last. His route continued as precipitous and difficult as before, and it was not long before the plague of thirst became greater than that of hunger. But he persevered, hopeful that his wearisome wandering would soon end.

  “Halloa! Here I am again.”

  This exclamation was caused by the sudden arrival upon the edge of a ravine, which, on first thought, he supposed to be the very one for which he was making. But a second glance convinced him of his error, for it was nothing more than a yawn, or chasm, that had probably been opened in the mountains by some great convulsion of nature.

  Making his way carefully to the edge, Fred saw that it had a varying depth of fifty to two hundred feet, and a width from a dozen yards to three times as much, its length seemingly too great to be “gone round” by an ordinary traveler. And yet, finding himself confronted by such a chasm, it was perhaps natural that the lad should become more fully pursuaded than ever of the absolute necessity of placing himself upon the opposite side. The more he thought upon it the more convinced did he become, until his desire of passing over became a wild sort of eagerness that would not let him rest.

  “I don’t believe the pass is more than a hundred yards from the other side, and the two must run nearly parallel, so I am bound to get over in some way.”

  In the hope that some narrow portion might be found, he made his way with great care along the margin, until fully an hour had been spent in this manner, with a result that could not be called very satisfactory.

  “If I could jump about three times as far as I can, I could go across right yonder—helloa! why did n’t I notice that before?”

  And the words were yet in his mouth, when he started on a run along the margin of the ravine, at the imminent risk of falling in and breaking his neck. He had espied not only a narrower portion of the ravine, but what seemed to be a fallen tree extending from one side to the other.

  If such were really the case, what more could he need? He had thought over this matter of the pass being upon the other side, until no doubt at all remained in his mind, and now the discovery that the chasm was bridged caused the strongest rebound from discouragement to hope.

  Upon reaching the bridge, he found that it answered his purpose admirably. The width was less than ten yards, although the depth was enough to make him shudder, when he peered down into it.

  He flung a stone, and, as it went spinning downward, it seemed to him that many seconds elapsed before it struck the bottom with a dull thud.

  But the tree seemed strong enough to answer every purpose, and capable of bearing a weight much greater than his.

  The trunk at the largest part was fully a foot in diameter, and the top extended far enough over the opposite edge to prevent any weakness from the thinning out of the branches.

  But what astonished Fred more than anything else, was the discovery that the tree had been felled not, by nature, but by man. The trunk had been cut through, clearly and evenly, by some sharp instrument, and beyond question had been used as a bridge before.

  “Somebody has been here ahead of me,” reflected the lad, as he examined this interesting evidence, “and I don’t believe it was an Indian, either. I don’t know what could bring a party into this part of the world, but they have been here surely, and if the bridge was good enough for them, it will do for me.”

  He was quite certain that he could walk over, after the fashion of Blondin, but it would have been foolhardy in the highest degree, and he adopted the wiser course of putting himself astride of the trunk, and hitching along a few inches at a time. His rifle interfered somewhat, but he kept up his progress, pausing a few seconds at the centre of the chasm to look down at the bott
om far below him.

  “Suppose the tree should break,” he exclaimed, in a frightened whisper, “it would be the last of a fellow! No one could drop down there, and save his neck without a parachute. I guess the best thing I can do is to get over as soon as I know how—”

  At this juncture, as he was on the point of resuming his onward progress, he noticed a peculiar jar of the log, accompanied by a scratching. Mis first impression was that it came from behind, but, upon turning his head, could see nothing. When, however, he looked forward, the terrible explanation at once appeared.

  The head or top of the tree was unusually bushy and luxuriant, and, although a considerable time had elapsed since it had been felled, yet there were a great many leaves clinging to the branches—not enough to afford concealment to any animal fleeing from a hunter. Then Fred first looked in that direction, he failed to see that one of the most dangerous animals of the Southwest was crouching there.

  As he looked inquiringly ahead now, he observed a huge American cougar, larger than that of the night before, issuing from among the branches. With his phosphorescent eyes fixed upon the terrified lad, he was stealing slowly along the log, giving utterance to a deep guttural growl, separating his lips as he did so, so as to show his long, white, needle-like teeth, intended for the rending of flesh.

  For a moment Fred was transfixed at the sight.

  The cougar clearly meant fight, and assumed the offensive without a second’s hesitancy. He seemed to have been crouching in the bushes, and calmly awaited the time when the boy should advance too far to retreat.

  “I guess I’d better go back!” exclaimed the latter, recovering himself, and beginning his retrograde movement; but a few hitches showed that he could not escape the cougar in this fashion, if he really meant business, and it looked very much as if he did.

  The beast had already left the other side, and, like his intended victim, was supported over the chasm by the tree. He had advanced beyond the fork made by the junction of the lowermost branches with the main stem, and was stealing along with an appearance of excessive caution, but really with the certainty of a brute who feels that there is no escape for his prey. He moved slowly, burying his long, sharp claws so deeply in the bark at each step, that his feet seemed to stick as he lifted them again. All the time his large, round eyes, which had a greenish glare like those of a cat, were never removed from the face of the lad, and the guttural growl that came from the lowermost depths of his chest was like the muttering of distant thunder.

  It was not until about a dozen feet separated the two that Fred recalled that his case was not so desperate as he had imagined. He held a loaded rifle at his command, and the distance was too short for any mistake to be made in the aim.

  “I guess I’ll stop your fun!” was the exultant exclamation of the lad, as he brought his rifle to his shoulder. “I don’t like to throw away a shot on you, but I don’t see how it can be helped.”

  He sighted directly between the eyes. His hand shook a little, and the weapon was heavy, but it was impossible that he should miss.

  The cougar continued his slow, cautious advance, apparently unaware or uncaring for the deadly weapon aimed at him.

  The distance was very slight between the two when the trigger was pulled, and the heavy bullet, tearing its way through bone and muscle, buried itself in the brain, extinguishing life with the suddenness almost of the lightning stroke. The guttural growl wound up with something like a hoarse yelp, and the cougar made what might be termed his death-leap.

  The bound was a tremendous one, carrying him clear up over the head of the lad, who crouched down in affright, expecting him to drop upon his shoulders; but he passed far beyond, dropping upon the trunk of the tree, which he clutched and clawed in his blind, frantic way, without saving himself in the least, and down he went.

  Fred was held with a sort of fascination, and had turned his head sufficiently to watch every movement of his victim. Then he started downward, his whitish belly was turned upward, while he continued to beat and claw the air in his death struggles.

  As is the tendency of falling bodies, the carcass of the cougar showed an inclination to revolve. It began slowly turning over as it descended, and it must have completed several revolutions when it struck the rocky ground below like a limp bundle of rags, and lay motionless.

  The boy, from his lofty perch, watched the form below him for several minutes, but could detect no sign of life, and rightly concluded there was none.

  “I wonder whether there are any more there,” he exclaimed, hesitating to go backward, while he scrutinized the branches with the keenest kind of anxiety. “I do n’t see any chance where one could hide, and yet I did n’t see that other fellow.”

  It was hardly possible that he should find a companion to the one he had just slain, and he resumed his hitching forward, making it as deliberate and careful as he could. Clutching the branches, he hurried forward and was soon upon the other side of the chasm which had come so nigh witnessing his death. Without pausing longer he hastened on and was not long in placing himself upon the top of the elevation from which he was so confident of gaining his view of the promised land, as the pass had become to him, now that it seemed so difficult to find, and was so necessary to anything like progress.

  But another disappointment awaited him. The most careful scrutiny failed to reveal anything like the ravine, and poor Fred was forced to the conclusion that he was hopelessly lost, and nothing but Providence could bring him through the labyrinth of peril in which he was entangled.

  CHAPTER XXIV

  A Terrible Bed

  It was nearly noon, and, having failed so completely in his efforts to regain the pass, Fred determined to devote a little time to procuring food. He was certain that he would soon require it and might postpone his hunt too long. Although now and then he suffered somewhat from want of water, yet it was not for any length of time. There was an abundance of streams and rivulets, and he frequently stumbled upon them, when he had no expectation of doing so. Quaffing his fill from one of these, he rested a few minutes, for he had been laboring unceasingly for hours.

  “What a pity a fellow, when he got caught in such a fix as this, wasn’t like a camel, so that he might store away enough water to last him a week, and then if he could do the same with what he ate, he needn’t feel scared when he got lost like me.”

  His gun, of course, was as useless to him as a stick, and although in his long tramping it became onerous and oppressive, he had no thought of abandoning it.

  “I don’t see as there is any chance of killing any animals to eat, and, if I did, I haven’t got any matches to start a fire to cook them, so I must get what I want some other way.”

  He had noticed in his wanderings here and there a species of scarlet berry, about the size of the common cherry, but he refrained from eating any, fearing that they were poisonous. He now ventured to taste two or three, and found them by no means unpleasant to the palate; but, fearful of the consequence, he swallowed but a little, waiting to see the result before going into the eating line any more extensively.

  A half hour having passed without any internal disturbance, he fell to and ate fully a pint. There was not much nourishment in them, but they seemed to serve his purpose very well, and when he resumed his wandering, he felt somewhat like a giant refreshed with new wine.

  As it seemed useless to lay out any definite line to follow, Fred made no attempt to do so, believing he was as likely to reach the ravine by aimless traveling as by acting upon any theory of his own as to the location of the place he desired to reach. This he continued to do until the afternoon was about half spent. He was still plodding along, with some hope of success, when he became aware of a sickness stealing over him. The thought of the berries, and the fear that he had been poisoned, gave him such a shock that the slight nausea was greatly intensified, and he reclined upon the ground in the hope that it would soon pass over.

  Instead of doing so, he grew worse, and he
stretched out upon the ground, firmly persuaded that his last hour had came. He was deathly pale, and had he espied a cougar peering over the corner of the rock, he would n’t have paid him the least attention—no, not if there had been a dozen of them!

  What alarmed Fred as much as anything was some of the accompaniments of his trouble. As he laid his head upon the ground, it seemed to him that he could catch the faint sound of falling water, just as if there was a little cascade a mile away, and the gentle wind brought him the soft, musical cadence. Then, too, when he flung himself upon the ground, it gave forth a hollow sound, such as he had never heard before. Several times he banged his heel against the earth, and the same peculiarity was noticed.

  All this the poor fellow took as one of the accompaniments of the poisoning, and as additional proof that he was beyond hope. He rolled upon the ground in misery, and wondered whether he would have his mind about him when the last dreadful moment should come; but after a half hour or more had passed, and he was still himself, he began to feel a renewal of hope.

  “It may be that I ate too many of them,” he reflected, as he found himself able to sit up, “and there’s nothing poisonous about them, after all. If that’s so, I’ve got a good meal, anyway, and know where to get another.”

  It was nearly dark, and, as he was still weak, he concluded to spend the night where he was.

  A rod or so away was a dense clump of bushes, which seemed to offer an inviting shelter, and he gained his feet with the intention of walking to them. He had taken no more than a couple of steps, however, when such a dizziness overcame him that he sank at once to the ground, and stretched out for relief. It was a case of poisoning beyond question, but not of a dangerous nature; and Fred had about time to lie flat when he experienced a grateful relief.

  “I guess I’ll stay here a while,” he muttered, recalling his experience. “I can crawl in among the bushes in the night, if I find it getting cold, or any rain falls.”