Northwest! Part 41

A wave of mist rolled across the rocks, but the vapor was faintly luminous, as if a light shone through. Deering, Stannard, Jardine and Jimmy waited on the steep bank above the ledge; Gillane had gone back for the others. When he arrived the party would start.

Deering knew the venture was rash and the labor heavy. They would use two ropes and the leader must kick and cut steps in the snow; the others behind would then occupy the holes and hold him up until he cut another lot. Cutting steps, however, soon tired one's arms, and when the leader was exhausted to pull him up and tie on a fresh man might be dangerous.

Then n.o.body knew what was at the bottom and the gully might break off on the front of an icy cliff.

All the same, some rashness was justified. Nothing indicated that the mist would altogether roll away, and in two or three hours it would be dark. If they stopped for another night on the high rocks, all would freeze; an effort to reach the timber and camp by a fire was, so to speak, their forlorn hope. Besides, Stannard was persuaded they could get down, and Deering admitted his judgment was good. By and by Stannard gave him a careless glance.

"I'll lead on the first rope and take Gillane and Stevens. Jimmy and the others will go with you."

Deering wondered. He was resolved Jimmy should use his rope, but Stannard's proposing it was significant. If Stannard knew why he had joined them on the ledge, it looked as if he were resigned to let Jimmy go. Then Stannard pulled out his watch.

"We must get off. Shout for Gillane. Your voice carries well."

Deering shouted and fixed his glance on the slope behind the group.

After a few minutes, two or three indistinct objects loomed in the mist.

"The boys are coming," he said, and resumed in a puzzled voice: "Gillane went for Stevens and Dillon; but I see _four_."

"There are four," said Jimmy, and Deering's mouth got tight.

He thought the first man did not belong to Stannard's party, and now he saw two others behind the advancing group.

"The police!" said Stannard, and shrugged resignedly.

Jimmy turned. His face was pinched and his pose was slack, but his look was calm.

"You have played up n.o.bly, but we're beaten and I've had enough. In fact, to know I'm beaten is rather a relief."

Deering nodded gloomily. There was no use in trying to get away; the Royal North-West are empowered to shoot, and, as a rule, shoot straight.

He waited and noted mechanically that Stannard was a few yards nearer the top of the rocks. By and by a police sergeant stopped opposite the group.

"We have got you! Don't move until you get my orders," he said, and signing a trooper, indicated Gillane's party. "Hold that lot off!"

"We are not looking for trouble and the boys won't bother you," said Deering. "What's your business?"

He turned and glanced at Stannard, who said nothing. The mist was getting thin and Deering thought his look strained. Gillane had stopped behind the police, and the sergeant advanced, pulling at his belt.

"I have a warrant, but my hands are frozen and I can't get inside my coat."

"You can show us the warrant later," said Jimmy. "I'm James Leyland, the man you want."

"We _don't want you_," the sergeant replied.

Jimmy's legs shook and he sat down in the snow. After the long strain, his relief was poignant and reacted on his exhausted body. He gave the sergeant a dull, puzzled look.

"Then whom do you want?"

"Harvey Stannard," said the other, and Stannard turned.

His figure cut the misty background and he carried himself as if he were not disturbed. In fact, Jimmy imagined he had expected something like this.

"I am Stannard. Why do you want me?"

"When I can loose my belt I'll read you the warrant. The charge is killing game-warden Douglas."

"Then Douglas is dead?" said Stannard in a quiet voice.

"He died four or five days since," the sergeant replied.

"Ah!" said Stannard, and braced himself. "Well, I have nothing to state.

I reserve my defense----"

"Stop him!" shouted the sergeant, and leaped across the snow.

Stannard stepped back, stumbled on the steep bank and vanished.

For a moment Jimmy, numbed by horror, wondered whether his imagination had cheated him. Then he saw Stannard was really gone and he ran for the ledge. The others joined him, but Stannard was not on the ledge. Two or three hundred feet below a dark object rolled down a long slab and at the bottom plunged into a gulf where the gray mist tossed.

"He's gone," Deering remarked to the sergeant. "Perhaps you'll find him when the snow melts."

They went back to the spot where they had left their packs and ropes.

For a time all were quiet, and then the sergeant said to Deering: "He beat me, but I don't get it yet. I didn't reckon on his going over; he stated he reserved his defense."

"Perhaps he was rash," Deering remarked in a thoughtful voice. "In the meantime, however, we must let it go and think about getting down to the bush. How did you find us?"

"We went for a neck behind Mr. Leyland's shack. When we saw no tracks we pushed along the main range. We reckoned you'd gone by the long ridge and we might cut your trail. We were three nights in the rocks and are all played out."

"Then you had better join us. We are going to try Stannard's line down the gully. I don't engage to make the woods, but I don't see another plan."

The sergeant hesitated. "Stannard hit the line?"

"He declared the line would go," said Deering quietly. "Perhaps you have not much grounds to trust him, but he was a great mountaineer."

Jimmy turned and threw Deering the end of the rope.

"Don't talk!" he said to the sergeant. "If you mean to join us, tie on.

We must start."

A few minutes afterwards, they crossed the shelf. Deering led, and Jimmy, going first on the second rope, rather doubted if they would reach the trees. In summer the long straight crack was obviously the mountain's rubbish shoot and its sides were ground smooth by rolling stones; now it was packed by hard, firm snow. To slip would mean a savage _glissade_, and then perhaps a plunge----

Much depended on the leader's nerve. Reaching down, held by the rope, he must chip out holes; and then, when the man behind him occupied the notches, move a foot or two and cut another. Sometimes Deering used his boots and sometimes the ice-pick; but, for the most part, when his party had gone across, the holes were broken and Jimmy was forced to cut. The labor was exhausting and by and by Deering owned he had had enough. The trouble was to help him back and put another in his place, but Gillane got into the loop and brought them down some distance. Then he stopped and for a few minutes all lay in the snow. Mist hid the bottom of the gully and none dared hope their labor would be lightened much when they got there. For all they knew they were painfully crawling down to the top of a precipice. In fact n.o.body was willing to brace up for the effort to change the leaders.

After a time Jimmy turned his head. The mist was lifting. It went up in torn shreds and the bottom of the gully began to get distinct. Where the dark trough ran out from the rocks a smooth snow-field went down. The vapor steadily rolled off the slope, until Jimmy saw a vague, dark belt he thought was timber. His heart beat and he got back his pluck.

"Stannard hit the proper line," he said. "We'll pitch camp in the woods."

Dillon took Gillane's post, the sergeant took Jimmy's, and they pushed on. By and by the mist rolled down and hid the pitches below, but, now all knew where they went, the gloom vanished and slack muscles were braced. For all that, when they reached the snow-field Deering looked to the west and frowned.