“Thanks, Bill.”
“Jim,” I answered him, “don’t thank me. I’m sorry that I seemed to hesitate!”
“Tut, tut!” said Silver. “You couldn’t do the wrong thing. I know that!”
Why, I can’t tell you how that warmed my heart! No man can believe entirely in himself. That’s the greatest value of friends. That’s why their belief makes us better than we are, and that’s why enemies make us worse.
I had just registered that idea in my brain, when Clonmel said:
“There’s some way of doing something. I can’t stand here like an ox and wait for the ax.”
“You’ll probably have to, though,” answered Silver.
Clonmel did a strange thing. He threw back his head and made a two-handed gesture.
“Anyway, we’ll be together, Jim.”
“Aye, we’ll be that,” said Silver. But there was bitterness in his voice.
Almost more than freedom and safety, I wished then that I could know what lay behind those two. Silver sat there on the rock with Frosty lying across his feet, his head, free from the muzzle at last, raised and turned a little so that he could constantly watch the face and the gestures of his master. I noticed that when Frosty was with him, Silver rarely moved a hand, and the reason was, I dare say, that those movements were apt to have particular meanings for the wolf. There was a peculiar and complicated language that had developed between the pair of them. The lifting of a finger could make Frosty jump and run.
You’ve seen fine hunting dogs work difficult country directed in and out and back and forth by the gestures of the hunter, and those dogs are generally trained in a few weeks or months, and given practice only a small number of hours each year. So when you can consider what might happen when an animal with a brain like Frosty’s lived every hour of every day with a master whose companion he was on life trails and death trails, it was no wonder that word of voice or word of hand had instant meanings to the great brute.
With his return, Silver had half of his usual pair of companions, and I knew that his mind was constantly turning to the other half. I knew he was being tormented almost more by concern on account of Parade than by concern on account of himself. If he died, Barry Christian would ride the golden chestnut. The thought must be eating Silver’s heart.
Another thing that I noticed was that Silver and Taxi rarely spoke to one another, but even by moonlight it was possible to see the expression change and soften when their glances crossed at any moment. They didn’t need to talk to one another. They had been through too much together.
We had fallen into a silence, while the wind began to whisper secretly through the long, dry grass that covered the ravine. The tops of the slender trees swayed a little in the breeze. And always the moon was climbing, shrinking the shadows, brightening the center of the sky until the stars dwindled away.
Into that quiet a rifle report smacked against my ears like the flat of a slapping hand. I heard the whir of the bullet; I saw Silver spring sidewise to his feet, with Frosty bristling, on guard before his master; but it was Taxi who turned the trick.
At the sound of the gun, he had an automatic in his hand and he fired a burst of three or four shots in rapid succession. It was such rapid work that I couldn’t see, easily, whether he was shooting high or low. But then I heard a clattering high up the cliff, toward the mouth of the ravine and on the right- hand side of it. I saw a rifle sliding down the rock, slithering here and there, then arching out from the cliff and falling sheer down until it smashed on the stones below. I thought I had an impression of a figure dropping behind the parapet of rocks up there, but I wasn’t sure.
We got to cover in an instant, and as I stretched out behind a boulder with a feeling that death was already chilling me for the grave, we heard a wailing voice cry, beyond the valley:
“Chuck! Chuck! Are you there?”
“I’m here!” shrilled the answering voice of Chuck. “I missed; they winged me.”
“Can you come down?”
“They’re watchin’ the place now. I can’t come down.”
That was true. I could see now what the daring young rat had done. He had sneaked in through the mouth of the ravine, edging along the ground, I suppose, and then he had managed to climb up along a series of crevices to the top. Any one of us could do the same thing, but we would be exposed to the guns of the men outside the valley. However, it was a good example.
“Are you bleedin’ much, Chuck?” yelled the voice outside the valley.
“Naw, I got it stopped!” shouted Chuck. “I’m all right. I can see ‘em down there. I scared hell out of ‘em, too. I can see every jump they make, while I’m up here.”
“Good kid. Stay there and watch ‘em! Got a revolver?”
“No. And my rifle dropped when they plugged me.”
There was a yell of anger from outside the valley.
Silver stood up from the shelter he had taken. If Chuck lied, bullets might begin to fly at us again, but apparently he had told the truth. There were no more shots from the top of the rock. We were safe again for a little while, at least, until those restless devils of Cary’s managed to think out some new ways of plaguing us.
Silver and Taxi went the round of the ravine, looking for crevices similar to those which had enabled Chuck to climb to his crow’s nest. They came back after a time and reported no luck.
Silver said: “But we’ve found one good chance for climbing out of this place.”
“What chance did we find?” asked Taxi curiously.
“Those trees—some of them are near the edge of the cliff,” said Silver.
“Use one of ‘em for a ladder?” I asked.
“Yes,” said Silver.
“That would be all right if we could chop one of ‘em down,” said Clonmel, “and lean it against the rock.”
“There’s not even a hand ax in the lot of us,” said Taxi. “And who can jump thirty feet from a standing start?”
“We could girdle the easiest tree with fire and burn it down,” I suggested.
“That would take hours,” said Silver, “and we haven’t hours. We may not have more than a few minutes before the Carys have another set of riflemen up there on the edge of the cliffs. They’ve been marching up through the hills—you can depend on it—ever since we came in here.”
“No way of chopping the tree down,” said Clonmel. “No way of burning it down in time—then how can you make a ladder of it, Jim?”
“We’ll try another dodge,” said Silver. “Bill, are you good with a rope?”
I hesitated.
“Not the way you people are good with horses or guns—or wolves!” said I.
“You can daub a rope on a cow, and that’s all I want. Look back there at that tree. Not the tallest one, but the one that’s nearest the edge of the cliff. You see that one?”
I could see it, and nodded.
“Take a rope off one of the saddles and climb up there. Better take two ropes, while you’re about it. When you get close to the top of the tree, try to noose the rope over one of the projections of rock that stick up above the edge of the cliff. Then pull in and see how close that will swing the top of the tree to the cliff.”
There it was!
It was not salvation for us, exactly, but it was a hope of salvation. I stared at Jim Silver for one instant and wondered how that man ever could be really cornered by bad luck or the hatred of his enemies. His brain was too cool and his eye too quick to miss openings. And here, where I would have sworn that nothing could be done, he was already giving us our chance!
I got the ropes, went to the tree, and started climbing. And as I climbed, I could hear the shrill voice of Chuck informing his friends outside the ravine about my progress.
“Avon’s got a pair of ropes. He’s noosed them around his neck. Maybe the fool’s goin’ to hang himself. Now he’s climbin’ a tree. And now he’s up close to the top. Now he’s swingin’ his rope. Now he’s daubed it onto a rock. He ha
uls in tight and hard. The top of the tree swings in. He’s goin’ to make that tree into a ladder to the top of the cliff! He’s goin’ to give ‘em a way out! Crowd in! Crowd in! Get ready to make a rush!”
I thought, in fact, that the trick was as good as done. I had hauled the rope in, hand over hand, and the tree was bending far over with my weight and the strength of my pull, when the narrow trunk of the evergreen—there must have been a deep flaw in the wood—cracked off right under my feet. I found myself entangled in the foliage, hanging onto the rope for grim life, and shooting forward through the air.
The whole treetop was swinging in with me, and that was what made the cushion when I crashed against the cliff. Otherwise, every bone in my body would have cracked, because the swing inward was a full twenty feet, I should say. As it was, I bumped hard enough to knock the wind out of me.
A lucky thing, then, that I had two lariats instead of one, because that gave me a rope line of nearly eighty feet, and that was enough. I had a ten-foot fall from the end of the line, at that, but Silver and the others piled some brush together, and that was a safe mattress to drop into.
As I picked myself up, I could hear Chuck shouting the news from his bird’s nest. He was happy about it, the young scoundrel. He was yelling that I’d smashed up—no, that I was on my feet, but that I was just about finished—that the tree business was finished for good and all.
Well, as I stood there, rubbing my rope-burned hands together, I was pretty willing to give up any idea of tree ladders.
But the next moment Chuck yipped out some information that brought all four of us to life.
“Will is comin’!” he shouted. “I can see Will Cary comin’!”
I looked far up toward the crest of the ravine, away above us, and there was enough moonlight to show me figures, or what might be figures, a mile or two miles away, stirring vaguely against the sky as they climbed down over an edge of rock.
XIX. — THE SECOND ATTEMPT
It seemed to me suddenly that young Chuck, up there in his post of vantage, was like an announcer, telling a crowd what fighters were entering the bull ring, and we were the bulls penned in the center.
I looked at Silver. Clonmel and Taxi were looking at him too. He simply said:
“There’s another tree, almost as close to the cliff. Try that one, Bill.”
Taxi got me the ropes. I went up that tree in a furious burst of effort. The yelling of the Cary tribe outside the ravine affected me more than applause. I climbed as though a panther were after me, reaching up with its claws every moment to drag me down. Because it was plain that if we could not get to the cliff before Will Cary and his party arrived there, we were finished utterly.
This tree was heavier and sturdier in every way than the first one I had tried. There was no chance of its breaking off under me, but for the same reason it would be harder to pull the head of it in toward the rock; besides, it was farther from the stone wall. However, I got the noose of the first rope over a projecting stone and hauled away. Then big Clonmel came up and called to me to throw the second rope. I did that, and passed the end of it down to him. In that way we hauled in till the head of the tree was inclined well over. We could see then that the farther we hauled, the more we could bring down the level of the ropes below the edge of the cliff. There was an eight-foot gap remaining that we would have to hand ourselves across.
And how were we to get across that gap, all of us, while Chuck was posted up high, ready to tell his family the instant we were off the ground and all committed to the tree? Why, the Carys would pour into the ravine and pick us off the tree like so many crows.
I could hear Chuck shouting: “They’re goin’ up the tree. Get ready, all of you! The minute they’re all off the ground, I’ll give you the word. You can give ‘em hell!”
Of course, they could give us hell! As I tied the end of my rope around the tree, I looked vaguely about me. The voice of Silver came strongly up to us:
“Harry, hand yourself across the ropes to the rock. Bill, you follow him. Harry will give you a lift on the other side.”
“I’ll stay here till you come,” answered Clonmel’s shout.
“I’m coming right away,” cried Silver. “Taxi, light the grass on that side of the creek.”
Still I could not understand the idea, until I saw Taxi on one side of the creek and Silver on the other, kindling the grass here and there. Then it was clear.
The wind that blew was passing down the canyon, and it ought to sweep a wall of fire through the valley. Behind that fire and smoke, which would hold out the Cary clan, we could all get up to safety, perhaps. All except Frosty! I wondered if Silver would kill the wolf rather than let him fall into the hands of the Cary outfit again.
Then I heard Chuck yelling out the news that the grass in the valley was being lighted. But already the crackling sound of the fire was enough to warn the Carys. The tall, dry grass seemed to be drenched with oil, it picked up the flames so fast. There was a running wall of fire in no time, with the smoke flowing back above the flames, outdistanced by them. And outside the valley, I could hear the Carys howling like angry devils.
I had something close at hand to pay attention to now. That was Clonmel, who was handing himself across the ropes, pulling himself along with powerful arm hauls. The whole tree staggered and shook with the violence of his efforts. He reached the farther side of the ropes, gave his immense body one pendulous swing, and thereon he was established on the safe shore!
It meant that we had an advance guard established; it meant that we had a fighting force ready to shelter the rest of our retreat, and for the first time a very real hope came up in me. I was glad to hear the voice of Chuck shrilling:
“Clonmel’s across! He’s on the rock. Bill Avon is throwin’ the rifles across to him. They’re all goin’ to get free except the wolf! They’ll get loose, unless you do something! Hey, Pete, Tom, Walt—crowd in and take a chance, or they’ll get away!”
I had tossed the two rifles into the hands of Clonmel, by that time, and now I swung out on the ropes in my turn. It was ticklish work. The drop below me was enough to smash me to bits. I didn’t dare to look down. And every time I loosened the grip of one hand and slid it forward along the rope, I felt sure that the hold of the other hand was slipping away!
Clonmel kept shouting encouragement to me. My arms began to shake, and my whole body was shuddering with fear. A rush of heat and smoke burst up around me, carried by a backwash of the air currents. Little glowing sparks and flaming grasses showered against my face and scorched it. I drew in a breath of hot smoke and gas that almost stifled me. I stopped moving; I stopped struggling.
The voice of Clonmel thundered through the fiery mist: “Come on, you weak- kneed quitter! Come on, you yellow coward!”
Somehow that abuse gave me new strength. It gave me anger in the place of fear, and I struggled forward. The great arm of Clonmel swept out over me like a crane. His grip fastened in my collar, and he dragged me lightly up over the edge of the rock.
I sat there, gasping, reaching for my rifle and getting ready to fight in the battle I was sure must come.
I saw the fire running like yellow horses with smoking manes down the length of the ravine. I heard the shouting of the Carys outside the valley and the wild voice of Chuck urging them to close in—to get into the creek and wade up the water, where the fire could do them no harm.
Well, I had not thought of that. They could come up the creek, of course, though it might be rather unpleasant work ducking between flame and smoke and water; elements in none of which a man could breathe.
Taxi slid out of the top of the tree and came across the ropes like a wildcat. He was as light as a feather— the most active man I’ve ever seen.
When Taxi was beside the two of us, I noticed that Silver was no longer on the ground but that he was climbing, slowly and painfully, and there was no sight of Frosty on the ground. Then, as Silver neared the top of the tree, I had a good look a
t him, and made out that he was carrying Frosty on his shoulders !
It stopped my heart, somehow, to see that.
They came into plain view at the end of the ropes, and I saw Frosty embracing the neck of his master with his forepaws, exactly like a trusting child!
I don’t suppose it was so wonderful. A thousand animals have done harder tricks than that. But just then it seemed to me that the soul of a human being must be inclosed within the pelt of Frosty.
But when they came to the ropes, how was that burden to be taken across ?
Mind you, Frosty weighed a full hundred and fifty pounds.
But Silver had thought the thing out on his way up the tree. He got out under the ropes, hanging by his heels and his hands, and with a word to Frosty, he made the big animal crawl painfully out into the cradle that was furnished for him in this fashion.
Precarious? I wouldn’t have done it for any human being, let alone for any animal. But then, for that matter, I haven’t the strength to do such things.
Silver started hitching himself forward. I saw Frosty sway and almost fall, thrown to one side by the violence of that bucking movement. I saw the big teeth of the wolf fasten in the coat of his master, to steady himself.
And then, from the mouth of the ravine, a rifle sounded! It sounded, a fraction of a second after a hornet buzz whirred past my ears. I looked down the canyon and saw that the grass fire had actually gutted the valley as quickly as all this, and that there was now a chance for the Cary clan to press in among the rocks and open fire.
I stretched out on the edge of the cliff and took aim; Taxi was beside me; only Clonmel remained ready to grab Frosty and lift him from Silver.
Taxi began to shoot. There was another shot from the mouth of the ravine. I opened on the probable spot. The thundering echoes of the guns filled the air, and the Cary rifleman who had ventured in so far ceased firing.
When I turned my head, it was because I heard a groan from Clonmel. I thought that it was because a bullet had struck him. Then I saw it was merely joyous relief as his mighty hand caught Frosty by the scruff of the neck and hauled him up to safety.
Brand, Max - Silvertip 10 Page 11
