The Silver Canyon

by Fenn, George Manville

“Why should the sheep send them away?” asked Bart.

  “I don’t know why they should,” said Joses; “all I know is that they do. You never find black-tailed deer like you shot and mountain sheep living together as neighbours. It arn’t their nature.”

  “Well, what do you say to taking our rifles and exploring?”

  “Don’t mind,” said Joses, looking round. “Horses are all right, and there’s no fear of being overhauled by Injuns up here, so let’s go and take Sam with us, but you won’t get no more deer.”

  “Well, we don’t want any for a day or two. But why shouldn’t I get another?”

  “Because they lie close in the thickest part of the cover in the middle of the day, and you might pretty well tread upon them before they’d move.”

  They started directly after, and for about two hours did nothing but climb up amidst cedar and pine forest. Sometimes amongst the trunks of big trees, sometimes down in gashes or gullies in the mountain-side, which were full of younger growths, as if the rich soil and pine seeds had been swept there by the storms and then taken root.

  “I tell you what it is, Master Bart,” said Joses, suddenly coming to a halt, to roll up and light his cigarito, a practice he never gave up, “it strikes me that we’ve nearly got to the end of it.”

  “End of what?” asked Bart.

  “This clump of hills. You see if when we get to the top here, it don’t all go down full swoop like a house wall right bang to the plain.”

  “What, like the place where the mountain sheep went down?”

  “That’s it, my lad, only without any go up on the other side. It strikes me that we shall find it all plain on this side, and that if we can’t find a break in the wall with a regular gulch, we shall have to go back with our horses and waggon and try some other way.”

  “Well, come along and let’s see,” said Bart; and once more they climbed on for quite half-an-hour, when they emerged from the trees on to a rugged piece of open rocky plain, with scattered pines gnarled and twisted and swept bare by the mighty winds, and as far as eye could reach nothing but one vast, well-watered plain.

  “Told you so,” said Joses; “now we shall either have to keep up here in the mountain or go down among the Injuns again, just as the master likes.”

  “Let’s come and sit down near the edge here and rest,” said Bart, who was fascinated by the beauty of the scene, and, going right out upon a jutting promontory of stone, they could look to right and left at the great wall of rock that spread as far as they could see. In places it seemed to go sheer down to the plain, in others it was broken into ledges by slips and falls of rock; but everywhere it seemed to shut the great plain in from the west, and Bart fully realised that they would have to find some great rift or gulch by which to descend, if their journey was to be continued in this direction.

  “How far is it down to the plain?” said Bart, after he had been feasting his eyes for some time.

  “Four to five thousand feet,” said Joses. “Can’t tell for certain. Chap would fall a long way before he found bottom, and then he’d bounce off, and go on again and again. I don’t think the mountain sheep would jump here.”

  As they sat resting and inhaling the fresh breeze that blew over the widespreading plain, Bart could not help noticing the remains of a grand old pine that had once grown right at the edge of the stupendous precipice, but had gradually been storm-beaten and split in its old age till the trunk and a few jagged branches only remained.

  One of these projected from its stunted trunk close down by the roots, and seemed thrust out at right angles over the precipice in a way that somehow seemed to tempt Bart.

  He turned his eyes from it again and again, but that branch fascinated him, and he found himself considering how dangerous it would be, and yet how delightful, to climb right out on that branch till it bent and bent, and would bear him no further, and then sitting astride, dance up and down in mid air, right over the awful depths below.

  So strange was the attraction that Bart found his hands wet with perspiration, and a peculiar feeling of horror attacked him; but what was more strange, the desire to risk his life kept growing upon him, and as he afterwards told himself, he would no doubt have made the mad venture if something had not happened to take his attention.

  Joses was leaning back with half-closed eyes, enjoying his cigárito, and Bart was half rising to his knees to go back and round to where the branch projected, just to try it, he told himself, when they heard a shout away to the left, and that shout acted like magic upon Bart.

  “Why, that’s Sam,” he said, drawing a breath full of relief, just as if he had awakened from some terrible nightmare.

  “I’d ’bout forgotten him,” said Joses lazily. “Ahoy! Oho!—eh!” he shouted back. Then there was another shout and a rustling of bushes, a grunting noise, and Bart seized his rifle.

  “He has found game,” he said.

  Then he nearly let fall his piece, and knelt there as if turned to stone, for, to his horror, he suddenly saw Sam down upon his hands and knees crawling straight out on the great gnarled branch that overhung the precipice, keeping to this mode of progression for a time, and then letting his legs go down one on each side of the branch, and hitching himself along, yelling lustily the while for help.

  “He has gone mad,” cried Bart, and as he spoke he thought of his own sensations a few minutes before, and how he had felt tempted to do this very thing.

  “No, he arn’t,” said Joses, throwing the remains of his cigárito over the precipice, and lifting his rifle; “he’s got bears after him.”

  Almost as he spoke the great rough furry body of an enormous black bear came into sight, and without a moment’s hesitation walked right out along the branch after the man.

  “There’s another,” cried Bart, “shoot, Joses, shoot. I dare not.”

  It seemed that Joses dare not either, or else the excitement paralysed him, for he only remained like Bart, staring stupidly at the unwonted scene before them as a second bear followed the first, which, in spite of Sam’s efforts to get into safety, had overtaken him, crept right upon him, and throwing its forepaws round him and the branches as well, hugged him fast, while the second came close up and stood there growling and grunting and patting at its companion, who, fortunately for Sam, was driving the claws at the ends of its paws deeply into the gnarled branch.

  “If I don’t fire they’ll kill him,” muttered Joses, as the huge branch visibly bent with the weight of the three bodies now upon it. “If I kill him instead it would be a mercy, so here goes.”

  He raised his rifle, took careful aim, and was about to draw the trigger, but forbore, as just then the report of Bart’s piece rang out, and the second bear raised itself up on its hind legs, while the foremost backed a couple of feet, and stood growling savagely with its head turned towards where it could see the smoke.

  That was Bart’s opportunity, and throwing himself upon his breast, and steadying his rifle upon a piece of rock, he fired again, making the foremost bear utter a savage growl and begin tearing furiously at its flank.

  Then Joses’ rifle spoke, and the first bear reared up and fell over backwards, a second shot striking the hindmost full in the head, and one after the other the two monsters fell headlong, the first seeming to dive down, making a swimming motion with its massive paws, the second turning over back downwards.

  They both struck the rock about fifty feet below the branch, and this seemed to make them glance off and fly through the air at a fearful rate, spinning over and over till they struck again at an enormous distance below, and then plunged out of sight, leaving Bart sick with horror to gaze upon the unfortunate Sam.

  * * *

  Chapter Twelve.

  Sam gets a Fright.

  Bart was brought to his senses by Joses, who exclaimed sharply:

  “Load, my lad, load; you never know when you may want your piece.”

  Bart obeyed mechanically as Joses shouted:

  “Now t
hen, how long are you going to sit there?”

  Sam, who was seated astride the gnarled old limb, holding on tightly with both hands, turned his head slightly and then turned it back, staring straight down into the awful depths, as if fascinated by the scene below.

  “Here, hi! Don’t sit staring there,” cried Joses. “Get back, man.”

  Sam shook his head and seemed to cling the more tightly.

  “Are you hurt, Sam?” cried Bart.

  Sam shook his head.

  “Why don’t you speak?” roared Joses, angrily. “Did the beasts claw you?”

  Sam shook his head, but otherwise he remained motionless, and Bart and Joses went round to where the tree clung to the rocky soil, and stood gazing out at their companion and within some fifteen feet of where he clung.

  “What’s the matter, Sam; why don’t you come back?” asked Bart.

  The man responded with a low groan.

  “He must be badly hurt, Joses,” exclaimed Bart. “What are we to do?”

  “Wait a moment till I think,” said Joses. “He’s hurt in his head, that’s what’s the matter with him.”

  “By the bears’ claws?”

  “No, my lad, they didn’t hurt him. He’s frit.”

  “Frightened?” said Bart.

  “Yes! He’s lost his nerve, and daren’t move.”

  “Let’s say a few encouraging words to him.”

  “You may say thousands, and they won’t do no good,” said Joses. “He’s got the fright and badly too.”

  “But the bears are gone?”

  “Ay, that they are, my lad; but the fall’s there, and that’s what he’s afraid of. I’ve seen men look like that before now, when climbing up mountains.”

  “But it would be so easy to get back, Joses. I could do it directly.”

  “So could he if he hadn’t lost his nerve. Now what’s to be done?”

  “Shall I creep out to him?” said Bart eagerly.

  “What, you? what good would it do? You don’t think you could carry him back like a baby?”

  “No,” said Bart, “but I might help him.”

  “You couldn’t help him a bit,” growled Joses, “nor more could I. All the good you could do would be to make him clutch you and then down both would go at once, and what’s the use of that.”

  “If we had brought a lasso with us.”

  “Well, if we had,” said Joses, “and could fasten it round him, I don’t believe we could haul him off, for he’d only cling all the tighter, and perhaps drag us over the side.”

  “What is to be done then?” said Bart. “Here, Sam, make an effort, my lad. Creep back; it’s as easy as can be. Don’t be afraid. Here, I will come to you.”

  He threw down his gun, and before Joses could stop him, he climbed out to the projecting limb, and letting his legs go down on either side, worked himself along till he was close behind Sam, whom he slapped on the back.

  “There,” cried Bart. “It’s easy enough. Don’t think of how deep down it is. Now I’m going back. You do the same. Come along.”

  As he spoke and said encouraging things to Sam, Bart felt himself impelled to gaze down into the depths beneath him, and as he did so, the dashing bravery that had impelled him to risk his life that he might encourage his follower to creep back, all seemed to forsake him, a cold perspiration broke out on face and limbs, accompanied by a horrible paralysing sense of fear, and in an instant he was suffering from the same loss of nerve as the man whom he wished to help.

  Bart’s hands clutched at the rough branch, and he strove to drive his finger nails into the bark in a spasmodic effort to save himself from death. He was going to fall. He knew that he was. Nothing could save him—nothing, and in imagination he saw himself lose his hold of the branch, slip sidewise, and go down headlong as the bears had fallen, to strike against the rocks, glance off, and then plunge down, down, swifter and swifter into space.

  The sensation was fearful, and for the time being he could make no effort to master it. One overwhelming sense of terror had seized upon him, and this regularly froze all action till he now crouched as helpless and unnerved as the poor fellow before him who never even turned his head, but clung to the branch as if insensible to everything but the horrors of his position.

  Joses shouted to him, and said something again and again, but Bart only heard an indistinct murmur as he stared straight down at the tops of the pines and other trees half a mile below him; and then came a dreamy, wondering feeling, as to how much pain he should feel when he fell; how long he would be going down all that distance; whether he should have to fall on the tops of the pine-trees, or amongst the rough ravines of rock.

  And so on, thought after thought of this kind, till all at once, as if out of a dream, a voice seemed to say to him:

  “Well, I shouldn’t have thought, Master Bart, as I’d taught all these years, was such a coward!”

  The words stung him, and seemed to bring him back to himself.

  Coward! what would Maude think of him for being such a coward? Not that it would much matter if he fell down there and were smashed to death. What would the Doctor, who had given him so many lessons on presence of mind, coolness in danger, and the like? And here was he completely given up to the horror of his position, making no effort when it was perhaps no harder to get back than it had been to get forward.

  “I won’t think of the depth,” said Bart, setting his teeth, and, raising himself upright, he hitched himself a few inches back.

  Then the feeling of danger came upon him once more, and was mastering him again rapidly, when the great rough voice of old Joses rang out loudly in a half-mocking, half-angry tone:

  “And I thought him such a brave un too.”

  “And so I will be,” muttered Bart, as he made a fresh effort to recover from his feeling of panic; and as he did so, he hitched himself along the branch towards the main trunk with his back half turned, threw one leg over so that he was in a sitting position, and the next minute he was standing beside Joses, with his heart beating furiously, and a feeling of wonderment coming over him as to why it was that he had been so frightened over such a trifling matter.

  “That’s better, my lad,” said Joses quietly; and as Bart gazed on the rough fellow’s face, expecting revilings and reproaches at his cowardice, he saw that the man’s bronzed and swarthy features looked dirty and mottled, his eyes staring, and that he was dripping with perspiration.

  Just then Joses gripped him by the shoulder in a way that would have made him wince, only he did not want to show the white feather again, and he stood firm as his companion said:

  “’Taint no use to talk like that to him. It won’t touch him, Master Bart. It’s very horrid when that lays hold of you, and you can’t help it.”

  “No,” said Bart, feeling relieved, “I could not help it.”

  “Course you couldn’t, my lad. But now we must get old Sam back, or he’ll hang there till he faints, and then drop.”

  “O Joses!” cried Bart.

  “I only wish we could get a bear on the bough beyond him there. That would make him scuffle back.”

  “Frighten him back?” said Bart.

  “Yes; one fright would be bigger than the other, and make him come,” said Joses.

  “Do you think that if we frightened him, he would try to get back then?” whispered Bart.

  “I’m sure of it,” said Joses.

  “Do as I do then,” said Bart, as he picked up his rifle. Then speaking loudly he exclaimed:

  “Joses; we must not leave the poor fellow there to die of hunger. He can’t get back, so let’s put him out of his misery at once. Where shall I aim at? His heart?”

  “No, no, Master Bart; his head. Send a bullet right through his skull, and it’ll be all over at once. You fire first.”

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Bart rested the barrel of his rifle against the trunk, took careful aim, and fired so that the bullet whistled pretty closely by Sam’s ear.

 
; The man started and shuddered, seeming as if he were going to sit up, but he relapsed into the former position. “I think I can do it, Master Bart, this time,” said Joses; and laying his piece in a notch formed by the bark, he took careful aim, and fired, his bullet going through Sam’s hat, and carrying it off to go fluttering down into the abyss.

  This time Sam did not move, and Bart gazed at Joses in despair.

  “He’s too artful, Master Bart,” whispered the latter: “he knows we are only doing it to frighten him. I don’t know how to appeal to his feelings, unless I was to say, ‘here’s your old wife a-coming, Sam,’ for he run away from her ten years ago. But it wouldn’t be no good. He wouldn’t believe it.”

  Bart hesitated for a few moments as he reloaded his rifle, and then he shouted to Sam:

  “Now, no nonsense, Sam. You must get back.”

  The man paid no heed to him, and Bart turned to Joses to say loudly:

  “We can’t leave him here like this. He must climb back or fall, so if he won’t climb back the sooner he is out of his misery the better.”

  “That’s a true word,” said Joses.

  “Give me your axe then,” said Bart, and Joses drew it from his belt, when Bart took it, and after moistening his hands, drove it into the branch just where it touched the tree, making a deep incision, and then drove it in again, when a white, wedge-shaped chip flew out, for the boy had been early in life taught the use of the axe.

  Then cutting rapidly and well, he sent the chips flying, while every stroke sent a quiver along the great branch.

  Still Sam clung to the spot where he had been from the first, and made no effort to move; and at last, when he was half-way through the branch, Bart stopped short in despair, for the pretence of cutting it off had not the slightest effect upon Sam.

  “Tired, Master Bart?” cried Joses just then; and snatching away the axe, he began to apply it with tremendous effect, the chips flying over the precipice, and a great yawning opening appearing in the upper part of the branch.

  “Don’t cut any farther, Joses,” whispered Bart; “it will give way.”