Prairie Flowers

by James B. Hendryx

  CHAPTER IX

  ON THE RIVER

  For a moment the girl sat paralysed with terror as her brain grasped thefull gravity of her position. The wind had risen, and blowing up river,kicked up waves that struck the boat with sledgehammer force and brokeover the gunwales. Overhead the thunder roared incessantly, while abouther the thick, black dark burst momentarily into vivid blazes of lightthat revealed the long slash of the driving rain, and the heaving bosomof the river, with its tossing burden of uprooted trees--revealed, alsoher trembling horse, and the form of the unconscious Texan lying withface awash in the bottom of the boat. His hat, floating from side toside as the craft rocked in the waves, brushed the horse's heels, and helashed out viciously, his iron-shod hoofs striking the side of the boatwith a force that threatened to tear the planking loose.

  The incident galvanized her into action. If those hoofs had struck theTexan? And if he were not already dead, suppose he should drown in thefilthy water in the bottom of the boat? Carefully, she worked thefrightened animal to the farther end of the boat, and swiftly made herway to the limp form of the cowboy. She realized suddenly that she wasnumb with cold. Her hat, too, floated in the bottom of the boat, and herrain-soaked hair clung in wet straggling wisps to her neck and face.Stooping over the injured man she twisted her fingers into the collar ofhis shirt and succeeded in raising his face clear of the water. Bloodoozed from a long cut on his forehead at the roots of his hair, and ontop of his head she noticed a welt the size of a door knob. With mucheffort she finally succeeded in raising him to a sitting posture andpropping him into a corner of the boat, where she held him with her bodyclose against his while she bathed his wound and wiped his eyes and lipswith her rain-soaked handkerchief. Opening her shirt, the girl succeededin tearing a strip from her undergarments with which she proceeded tobandage the wound. This proved to be no small undertaking, and it wasonly after repeated failures that she finally succeeded in affixing thebandage smoothly and firmly in place. The storm continued with unabatedfury and, shivering and drenched to the skin, she huddled miserably inthe bottom of the boat against the unconscious form of the man.

  Added to the physical discomfort came torturing thoughts of theirplight. Each moment carried her farther and farther from TimberCity--from Win. When the lightning flashed she caught glimpses of theshore, but always it appeared the same distance away. The boat washolding to the middle of the stream. She knew they must have driftedmiles. "What would Win say?" over and over the same question repeateditself in her brain, and step by step, she reviewed the events of thenight. "I did the right thing--I know I did!" she muttered, "they wouldhave killed him!" And immediately she burst into tears.

  Inaction became unbearable, and shifting the body of the Texan so thathis head would remain clear of the ever deepening wash in the bottom ofthe boat, she seized the pole and worked frantically. But after a fewmoments she realized the futility of her puny efforts to deviate theheavy craft a hair's breadth from its course. The tree-root that hadknocked the Texan unconscious had descended upon the boat, and remainedlocked over the gunwale, holding the trunk with its high-flung tangle ofroots and branches close alongside, the whole structure moving as onemass.

  She discarded the pole and tried to arouse the unconscious man, shakingand pounding him vigorously. After a time his head moved slightly andredoubling her efforts, she soon had the satisfaction of seeing his eyesopen slowly. His hand raised to his bandaged head, and droppedlistlessly to his side. Placing her lips close to his ear to makeherself heard above the roar of the storm, she begged and implored himto rouse himself. He evidently understood, for he moved his arms andlegs and shifted his body into a more comfortable position."I--don't--remember--" the words came in a low, faltering voice,"what--happened."

  "When you cut the cable that root hit you on the head," she explained,pointing to the root-stub that held the boat firmly against the trunk ofthe tree.

  He nodded his understanding, and in the illumination of the almostcontinuous flashes of lightning stared at the root, as if trying tocollect his scattered wits. The boat jerked unsteadily, hesitated,jerked again and the branches and uplifted roots of the tree swayed andthrashed wildly. He struggled to his knees, and holding to the girl'sarm raised himself unsteadily to his feet where he stood swayinguncertainly, his eyes fixed on the thrashing branches. His vitalityreturned with a rush. His eyes narrowed as he pointed out the danger,and his voice rang strong above the storm: "Where's the ax?"

  Stooping, the girl recovered it from the water at her feet. Instantly,it was seized from her hand, and staggering to the root, the Texanchopped at it with blows that increased in vigour with each successiveswing. A few moments sufficed to sever it, and springing to one side,the man drew the girl to the bottom of the boat, while above them thebranches thrashed and tore at the gunwales. A moment later the craftfloated free, and placing his lips to her ear, the Texan explained:"They stick down as far as they do up, an' when we pass over a shallowplace they drag along the bottom. If we'd struck a snag that would haveheld the tree, it would have been 'good-night' for us. That root wouldhave ripped down through the bottom, and all there'd be'n left of us istwo strings of bubbles. We're lucky."

  Alice shuddered. "An' now," continued the cowboy, "we've got to bail outthis old tub. What with the water that rolled in over the edge, andwhat's rained in, we'll have a boatful before long."

  "Why, there's barrels of it!" cried the girl. "And we haven't anythingto bail with!"

  The Texan nodded: "There's barrels of it all right. I saw a fellow emptya barrel with a thimble, once--on a bet. It took him a considerablespell, but he did it. My boots hold considerable more'n a thimble, an'we can each take one an' go to it."

  "But, wouldn't it be better to try and reach shore?"

  "Reach shore?" With a sweep of his arm the man indicated the surface ofthe turgid flood. Following the gesture, Alice realized the utterfutility of any attempt to influence the course of the clumsy craft. Thewind had risen to a gale, but the full fury of the electrical storm hadpassed. Still continuous, the roar of the thunder had diminished to alow rumbling roll, and the lightning flashed pale, like ghost lightning,its wan luminescence foreshortening the range of vision to include onlythe nearer reaches of wild lashing water upon whose surface heaved andtossed the trunks and branches of trees over which the whitecappedwaves broke with sodden hiss. The shore line with its fringe of timberhad merged into the outer dark--an all-enveloping, heavy darkness thatseemed in itself a _thing_--a thing of infinite horror whose evil touchwas momentarily dispelled by the paling flashes of light. "Oh, where arewe? Where are we going?" moaned the girl.

  "Down river, somewhere," answered the Texan, with an attempt atcheerfulness. The man was industriously bailing with a boot. He tossedits mate to the girl. "Bail," he urged, "it gives you somethin' to thinkabout, an' it's good exercise. I was about froze till I got to heavin'out this water. We ain't so bad, now. We're bound to get shoved ashoreat some bend, or the wind'll blow us ashore. Looks to me as if she waswidenin' out. Must of overflowed some flat." Mechanically she took theboot and, following the example of the Texan, began to bail out. "Rain'squit, an' this wind'll dry us out when we get the boat emptied so wedon't have to sit in the water. My shirt's most dry already."

  "The wind has changed!" cried the girl. "It's blowing crosswise of theriver, now."

  "More likely we've rounded a bend," opined the Texan. "I don't know theriver below Claggett."

  "If we're blown ashore, now, it will be the wrong shore."

  "Most any old shore'd look good to me. I ain't what you might callaquatic by nature--I ain't even amphibious." Alice laughed and thesound was music to the Texan's ears. "That's right, laugh," he hastenedto say, and the girl noticed that the cheerfulness was not forced, "I'venever heard you laugh much owin' to the fact that our acquaintance hasbeen what you might call tribulations to an extent that has be'n plumbdiscouragin' to jocosity. But, what was so funny?"

  "Oh, nothing. Only one would hardly
expect a cowboy, adrift in themiddle of a swollen river to be drawing distinctions between words."

  "Bailin' water out of a boat with a boot don't overtax the mentalcapacity of even a cowboy to absolute paralysis."

  "You're certainly the most astonishing cowboy I've ever known."

  "You ain't known many----"

  "If I'd known a thousand--" The sentence was never finished. The boatcame to a sudden stop. Both occupants were thrown violently to thebottom where they floundered helplessly in their efforts to regain theirfeet. "What happened?" asked the girl, as she struggled to her knees,holding fast to the gunwale. "Oh, maybe we're ashore!" Both glancedabout them as a distant flash of lightning threw its pale radiance overthe surface of the flood. On every side was water--water, and thetossing branches of floating trees. The Texan was quieting the terrifiedhorse that crouched at the farther end of the boat, threateningmomentarily to become a very real menace by plunging and lashing outblindly in the darkness.

  "Struck a rock, I reckon," said the cowboy. "This cayuse'll be all rightin a minute, an' I'll try to shove her off. Must be we've headed alongsome new channel. There hadn't ought to be rocks in the main river."

  The clumsy craft shifted position with an ugly grating sound as thecurrent sucked and gurgled about it, and the whitecapped waves poundedits sides and broke in white foam over the gunwales. The Texan tooksoundings with the pole. "Deep water on three sides," he announced, "an'about a foot down to solid rock on the other. Maybe I can climb out an'shove her off."

  "No! No!" cried the girl, in a sudden panic of fear. "You can't swim,and suppose something should happen and the boat moved off before youcould climb into it? You'd be washed off the rock in a minute, and I--Icouldn't stand it alone!"

  "The way she's millin' around on the rock, I'm afraid she'll rip herbottom out. She's leakin' already. There's more water in here now, thanwhen we started to bail."

  "Most of it splashed in over the side--see, when the waves break."

  "Maybe," assented the Texan, carelessly, but in the darkness he stoopedand with his fingers located a crack where the planking had been forcedapart, through which the river water gushed copiously. Without a word hestepped to the girl's saddle and took down the rope. "We've got to getoff here," he insisted, "where'd we be if some big tree like the onethat knocked me cold would drift down on us?" As he talked he passed theloop of the rope over his head and made it fast about his shoulders, andallowing ten or twelve feet of slack, knotted it securely to a ring inthe end of the boat. "There, now I can get onto the rock an' by usingthe pole for a crow-bar, I can pry us off, then if I get left I'll justtrail along on this rope until I can pull myself in."

  The man's first effort resulted only in breaking a couple of feet fromthe end of his lever, but finally, by waiting to heave on his bar at themoment a wave pounded the side, he had the satisfaction of seeing thecraft move slowly, inch by inch toward the deeper water. A moment laterthe man thanked his stars that he had thought of the rope, for withoutwarning the boat lifted on a huge wave and slipped from the rock whereit was instantly seized by the current and whirled down stream with aforce that jerked him from his feet. Taking a deep breath, he clutchedthe line, and easily pulled himself to the boat, where the girl assistedhim over the side.

  They were entirely at the mercy of the river, now, for in the suddennessof their escape from the rock, the Texan had been unable to save thepole. Groping in the water for his boot he began to bail earnestly, andas Alice attempted to locate the other boot her hand came in contactwith the inrushing stream of water. "Oh, it _is_ leaking!" she cried indismay. "I can feel it pouring through the bottom!"

  "Yes, I found the leak back there on the rock. If we both bail for allwe're worth maybe we can keep her afloat."

  Alice found the other boot and for what seemed interminable hours thetwo bailed in silence. But despite their efforts, the water gained.Nearly half full, the boat floated lower and more sluggishly. Wavesbroke over the side with greater frequency, adding their bit to thestream that flowed in through the bottom. At length, the girl droppedher boot with a sigh that was half a sob: "I can't lift anotherbootful," she murmured; "my shoulders and arms ache so--and Ifeel--faint."

  "Just you prop yourself up in the corner an' rest a while," advised theTexan, with forced cheerfulness, "I can handle it all right, now."Wearily, the girl obeyed. At the bow and stern of the square-ended boat,the bottom curved upward so that the water was not more than six oreight inches deep where she sank heavily against the rough planking,with an arm thrown over the gunwale. Her eyes closed, and despite theextreme discomfort of her position, utter weariness claimed her, and shesank into that borderland of oblivion that is neither restful sleep, norimpressionable wakefulness.

  It may have been minutes later, or hours, that the voice of the Texanbrought her jerkily erect. Vaguely she realized that she could see himdimly, and that his arm seemed to be pointing at something. With a senseof great physical effort, she managed to follow the direction of thepointing arm, and then he was speaking again: "It's breakin' daylight!An' we're close to shore!" Alice nodded indifferently. It seemed,somehow, a trivial thing. She was conscious of a sense of annoyance thathe should have rudely aroused her to tell her that it was breakingdaylight, and that they were close to shore. Her eyes closed slowly, andher head sank onto the arm that lay numb and uncomfortable along thegunwale.

  The Texan was on his feet, eagerly scanning his surroundings that grewmomentarily more distinct in the rapidly increasing light. The farthershore showed dimly and the man emitted a low whistle of surprise. "Mustbe a good four or five miles wide," he muttered, as his eyes took in thebroad expanse of water that rolled between. He saw at a glance that hewas well out of the main channel, for all about him were tiny islandsformed by the summits of low buttes and ridges while here and there thegreen tops of willows protruded above the surface of the water swayingcrazily in the current.

  "Some flood!" he muttered, and turned his attention to the nearer bank.The boat floated sluggishly not more than fifty or sixty feet from thesteep slope that rose to a considerable height. "Driftin' plumb alongthe edge of the bench," he opined, "if I only had the pole." He untiedthe rope by which he had dragged himself aboard from the rock, andcoiled it slowly, measuring the distance with his eye. "Too short bytwenty feet," he concluded, "an' nothin' to tie to if I was nearenough." He glanced downward with concern. The boat was settling lowerand lower. The gunwales were scarcely a foot above the water. "She'll bedivin' out from under us directly," he muttered. "I wonder how deep itis?" Hanging the coiled rope on the horn of the saddle he slipped overthe edge, but although he let down to the full reach of his arms hisfeet did not touch bottom and he drew himself aboard again. The boat wasmoving very slowly, drifting lazily across a bit of slack water that hadbacked into the mouth of a wide coulee. Fifty yards away, at the head ofthe little bay formed by the backwater, the Texan saw a bit of level,grass-covered beach. Glancing helplessly at his rope, he noticed thatthe horse was gazing hungrily at the grass, and in an instant, the mansprang into action. Catching up his boots he secured them to the saddleby means of a dangling pack string, and hastily uncoiling the rope heslipped the noose over the horn of the saddle. The other end he knottedand springing to the girl's side shook her roughly. "Wake up! Wake up!In a minute it'll be too late!" Half lifting her to her feet he hastilyexplained his plan, as he talked he tore the brilliant scarf from hisneck and tied it firmly about his own wrist and hers. Making her takefirm hold about his neck he seized the knotted rope with one hand, whilewith the other he reached for the ax and brought the handle down with acrash against the horse's flank. The sudden blow caused the frightenedanimal to leap clean over the low gunwale. He went completely out ofsight, but a moment later his head appeared, and snorting, and thrashingabout, he struck out for shore. When the slack was out of the line theTexan threw his arm about the girl's waist, and together they leapedover the side in the wake of the swimming horse. Even with the smallamount of slack that remain
ed, the jerk when the line pulled taut allbut loosened the Texan's hold. Each moment seemed an eternity, as theweight of both hung upon the Texan's one-handed grip. "Hold for allyou're worth!" he gasped, and he felt her arms tighten about him,relinquished the hold on her waist and with a mighty effort gripped therope with the hand thus freed. Even with two hands it was no mean taskto maintain his hold, for the current slight as it was, swung them downso the pull was directly against it. The Texan felt the girl's grasp onhis neck weaken. He shouted a word of encouragement, but it fell on deafears, her hands slipped over his shoulders, and at the same instant theman felt the strain of her weight on his arm as the scarf seemed to cutinto the flesh. The Texan felt himself growing numb. He seemed to beslipping--slipping--from some great height--slipping slowly down a long,soft incline. In vain he struggled to check the slow easy descent. Hewas slipping faster, now--fairly shooting toward the bottom. Somehow hedidn't seem to care. There were rocks at the bottom--this he knew--butthe knowledge did not worry him. Time enough to worry about that when hestruck--but this smooth, easy slide was pleasant. Crash! There was ablinding flash of light. Fountains of stars played before his eyes likefireworks on the Fourth of July. An agonizing pain shot through hisbody--and then--oblivion.

  A buckskin horse, with two water-soaked boots lashing his flanks andtrailing a lariat rope from the horn of his saddle, dashed madly up acoulee. The pack string broke and the terrifying thing that lashed himon, fell to the ground with a thud. The run became a trot, and the trota walk. When the coulee widened into a grassy plain, he warily circledthe rope that dragged from the saddle, and deciding it was harmless,fell eagerly to eating the soggy buffalo grass that carpeted the ground.

  While back at the mouth of the coulee lay two unconscious forms, theirbodies partly awash in the lapping waves of the rising river.