The Long Portage Part 50

Reaching his shoulders, Lisle stood on them while Nasmyth and Crestwick on the pinnacle beneath looked up at a somewhat impressive spectacle.

Lisle's head and shoulders were now above the edge, but he was forced to bend backward and outward by the projecting bulge which pressed against his breast, and his cautious movements suggested that he could find no hold. It appeared impossible for him to descend, unless he did so accidentally, and in that event nothing could save him from a fall to the bottom of the ravine. For a while, they watched his tense figure moving futilely; and then Batley, standing most precariously poised, bent his arm and seized one of Lisle's feet. He spoke in a breathless gasp as he thrust it upward; Lisle's legs swung free and he disappeared beyond the edge. The two below were conscious of a vast relief. It was tempered, however, by the knowledge that they must shortly emulate their companion's exploit.

"Take off your pack!" Batley called to Lisle. "Split the bag, if it's necessary, and lower the end! But be quick! This isn't a comfortable position."

The pack in which the small bush rancher conveys his provisions from the nearest store as a rule consists of a cotton flour bag with a pair of suspenders fastened to its corners, and Nasmyth had provided the party with a few receptacles of similar pattern but more strongly made before entering the wilds. The straps, when Lisle let them down, reached several feet from the top, and Batley bade Nasmyth and Crestwick ascend. They managed it with a.s.sistance from Lisle, who seized them from above. Then Batley called up to them.

"I'm going to test the tackle. Give me a hand up as soon as I'm over the bulge!"

It was difficult to hear him, as he was still beneath the projecting edge, and they watched the straining straps with keen anxiety until a hand that felt for a hold upon the rock appeared. Lisle seized it, with Nasmyth ready to a.s.sist, and Batley came up, gasping, with the perspiration streaming from his face.

"I'd have managed it easily at one time," he said. "This is what comes of civilization and soft living."

"You brought us across; we owe you a good deal for it," declared Lisle.

Batley smiled at him as they set off again.

"In this case, I won't be an exacting creditor. In fact, it's rather curious how we've hit it off, considering that you wouldn't hear of a compromise and our interests are opposed."

"I don't know what your interests are," Lisle returned dryly.

"Then, in one way, I'm ahead of you. I know your wishes, and Nasmyth's--you don't want Clarence to marry Miss Gladwyne. It's your motive I'm not sure about. Do you want the girl yourself?"

They were some distance in front of the others, who were too far behind to hear them. Lisle looked at his companion steadily. The man was engaged in a business that was regarded with general disfavor, but there was something he liked about him and he did not resent his bluntness.

"Well," he answered, "it isn't for the reason you've given that I mean to stop the match."

"Can you do so?"

"I'm going to try."

Batley smiled reflectively.

"And the present journey is somehow connected with the attempt? Now I believe I might have left you held up on the wrong side of the canon; the idea was in my mind and you can give me credit for not yielding to it. I suppose there would be no use in my asking you for a hint as to the relation between my rather tricky companion's expedition and his cousin's death?"

"None in the least," said Lisle decidedly.

Batley made a gesture of acquiescence.

"Oh, well! We must try to be friends as long as possible."

Nothing more was said about the matter, and they spent the day forcing a pa.s.sage through scrub timber, up precipitous hillsides, and across long stony ridges.

There was no sign of Gladwyne's trail, but that did not trouble Lisle, for he knew where the man was heading for. On the second day Batley showed signs of distress, and Nasmyth and Crestwick were walking very wearily, but Lisle held on at a merciless pace. It was essential that he should reach the cache before Gladwyne could interfere with it. Toward evening, Nasmyth made an effort and caught up with Lisle.

"How would Clarence get across to the second cache on the other side of the water?" he asked. "It's a point I've been considering; I suppose it's occurred to you."

"I don't know," Lisle confessed. "The Indians near the divide said there was another party with canoes somewhere lower down; but, as the packer who was with me didn't talk to them, so far as I noticed, I don't see how Gladwyne could have heard of it; but that's as far as I can go. If he destroyed the first cache, it would help to clear him, unless you can vouch for the correctness of the list I made; but he may have some further plan in his mind." He paused and raised his hand. "Listen! Isn't that the river? We can't be far from the cache."

The day, like the two or three preceding it, had been hot and bright, and now that evening was drawing on, the still air was heavy with the smell of the cedars in a neighboring hollow. A high ridge stood out black against a vivid green glow, and from beyond it there rose a faint, hoa.r.s.e murmur. Nasmyth welcomed it gladly as announcing the end of the march.

"The rest of the party can hardly be down until to-morrow; there's a couple of portages," he said. "It looks as if we'll have to go without our supper."

"I don't want to see them before morning," Lisle returned grimly.

They pushed on, the light growing dimmer as they went, until at length the moon rose from behind the ridge; and when they had skirted the ridge they saw the river glimmer beneath them in a flood of silvery radiance.

It filled the gorge with its deep murmur, for the hot sunshine for three days had melted the snow, which had poured down to swell the flood by every gully. Not far below the neck the broken surface was flecked with white where the river swept angrily over a sharper slope of its bed, and a black boulder or two stood out in the midst of the rushing foam.

Up-stream of this there was a strip of shingle which Nasmyth recognized as the one where the cache had been made; he supposed that Lisle had struck the spot by heading for the narrow rift of the neck, which was conspicuous for some distance from both sides.

From end to end the sweep of pebbles was clearly distinct; but there was no dark figure moving about it, and Nasmyth wondered if they had come too late. They had marched fast, as his aching muscles testified, but they had been delayed at the canon and Gladwyne had had a long start. If he had arrived and had visited the cache, their efforts might prove to have been thrown away. There must be no shadow of doubt when Lisle told his startling story.

They descended with caution, moving through shadow, for the ridge above them cut off the moonlight, though it was far from dark, and they were near the bottom when Crestwick dislodged a bank of stones which went rattling and crashing down to the beach. A moment later a black form sprang out from among the rocks below and ran hurriedly along the shingle. This surprised Nasmyth because he could not doubt that the man was Gladwyne and he failed to understand his object in making what would probably be a futile attempt to avoid them. Lisle was some distance in front, and his voice rang out sharply:

"Head him off from the canoe!"

Nasmyth broke into a stumbling run--it was now obvious that Gladwyne meant to cross the river, and perhaps destroy the second cache.

Gladwyne had reached the canoe when Lisle gained the beach, and Nasmyth, descending in reckless haste, saw him hurriedly turn it over and raise the forward end of it. Lisle was running his hardest, almost as if he were fresh, up the long strip of shingle; but it was evident that he would be too late, and they would have no means of following Gladwyne after the canoe was launched. There was a sharp rattle of stones as he hauled it down; Lisle was still some way behind; Gladwyne sprang on board and thrust the light craft off, and a few strokes of the paddle drove her well out into the stream.

Lisle stopped, standing in the moonlight, and his comrade could see his hands tightly clenched at his side; then he suddenly tore off his jacket and flung it behind him. Noticing this, Nasmyth attempted to increase his pace. The river was running fast, swollen with melted snow, and Lisle must be badly worn out. If he had to be restrained by force, he should not attempt to swim across.

Then, to Nasmyth's astonishment, Gladwyne leaned over the stern of the craft and began to paddle desperately with one hand. This proceeding caused Lisle to stop again, close at the water's edge.

"Come back!" he shouted.

Nasmyth ran up and Lisle turned.

"He's dropped or broken his paddle--cracked it when he shoved her out.

There are two or three ugly rocks in the rapid."

They ran along the bank together, keeping pace with the craft which was sliding away fast with the stream. Nasmyth could feel his heart thumping as he wondered what Clarence would do. Though he could not cross the river, it was possible that he might propel the light canoe back to the shingle with his hand before he reached the rapid. As he could not guide her in the strong rush of water, there would be danger in attempting to descend it. He made no response, however, to their warning shouts.

Batley and Crestwick overtook the others shortly before the canoe swept into the faster stream at the head of the rapid and they watched her eagerly. There was a narrow pa.s.s between several boulders close ahead, which was the chief danger, and the current seemed to be carrying the craft down on one of them. In a few moments she struck and jambed, broadside on, across the ma.s.s of stone. White foam boiled about her; they saw Gladwyne rise and clutch the rock, but whether to thrust her off or to climb out did not appear. He suddenly sank down and, so far as they could make out, the canoe rolled over.

The next moment Lisle plunged into the river. Nasmyth ran to the water's edge, but seeing that he was too late, he sat down limply. Lisle was a good swimmer, but it did not seem possible that any man could reach Clarence before he was washed out at the tail of the rapid. It became evident, however, that somebody else meant to try, for Batley, running hard down the beach, plunged in.

"It's awful!" gasped Jim Crestwick behind Nasmyth. "It's not the risk of drowning; they'll be smashed to bits! Anyway, we'd better make for the slack at the tail."

Nasmyth got up. He could see nothing of Gladwyne or either of the others; there were only black rocks, rushing water and outbreaks of foam, and he had a sickening idea that long before they reached the quieter pool the need for any services he could render would be past. Fortunately, the beach was fairly smooth, and after a desperate run they reached a tongue of rock beneath which the eddy swung. Farther on, in the shadow, Batley stood in the water, calling to them and apparently clinging hard to a half-seen object in the stream.

Nasmyth leaped in knee-deep, with Crestwick behind him, and gripping the loosely-hanging arm of the body Batley was supporting, he asked hoa.r.s.ely:

"Who is it?"

"Lisle!" was the breathless answer. "Help me to get him out!"

They dragged him up the beach and let him sink down. He lay upon the shingle, silent and inert.

"Make a fire, Jim!" commanded Batley. "Lift his shoulder a bit, Nasmyth!

Turn him partly over!"