The Perils of Pauline Part 26

Hicks sprang to his feet. His big-bladed knife flashed in his hand.

He sawed excitedly at the small chain. A low curse escaped him as the blade bent on the links.

Owen had dashed to Harry's auto. He was back with a pair of heavy pliers. In a flash he had cut the chain. The end of it shot over the cliff. There was a startled cry from below.

It was several minutes before Hicks and Owen looked down again.

The man they thought they had just killed and the girl whom they had marked to die stood on the ledge in each other's arms, oblivious of life or death, or foe or friend, of everything but love.

Pauline was still aquiver with the shock of her waking. A cry ringing above her had brought her from her swoon and she had looked up to see the terrible balloon still reeling over her and to find Harry dangling from a rope's end not ten feet away.

She rose weakly and stretched out her arms to him.

"Be still; don't move, dear," he called softly.

"You can't help me. You--"

There was a sudden snapping sound from over the top of the cliff. The chain end of the line fell upon his shoulders. He dropped joltingly to the ledge and lunged forward toward a further fall. It was the soft arms of Pauline that caught and held him. Both trembling a little as their lips met.

From overhead came the sound of a starting automobile. Harry shouted at the top of his voice. There was no answer. He stopped quickly and picked up the severed end of the life line.

"Look; it wasn't broken; it was cut;" he cried. "Good heaven, Polly, who is it that hates us like that?"

For answer she merely nestled nearer in his protecting arms.

They sat down on the ledge, and Harry's keen eyes watched the tantrums of the balloon in the wind. It was pulling fiercely toward the river now, but the anchor held fast.

Suddenly Harry sprang up. Pauline started to follow his example, but he motioned her to stay where she was. In his hand gleamed the revolver, that he had carried ever since the battle in Baskinelli's den.

"Who is it?" whispered Pauline. "Can you see some one?"

He raised the revolver in the air, took aim and fired. The balloon rope at his feet suddenly slacked and he caught at its sagging loop to gave the anchor from loosening. He fired twice again at the balloon bag, and Pauline, clinging to his shoulder saw the monster that had held her a slave to its elemental power, that, like some winged gorgon had held her captive in the labyrinth of air, crumple and wither and fall at the p.r.i.c.k of a bullet; saw it collapse into a ma.s.s of tangled leather and rope and slide in final ruin down the smooth cliff.

She looked at Harry with the whimsical smile that she could not suppress even on the dizzy heights of danger.

"Did you really think I would fly away again?" she asked.

"Hopeless ward," he said. "Pitiful case. Miss Pauline Marvin, crazy heiress--thinks she's funny when she's merely getting killed. No, Miss Flippancy, I wanted a line to slide the rest of the way on," he announced as he gave the anchor rope a twist around a rock.

Pauline's merriment vanished like a flash.

"Oh, I can't do it again, Harry, I can't," she cried tremulously.

"It will be easy this time," he told her. "Here, give me your hands."

With a piece of the blanket rope he tied her wrists together, and placed her arms about his shoulders, grasping a rope that sagged away to the wrecked balloon on the road far below. He placed a leg over the ledge, wrapped it around the rope and bracing the other foot against the rock wall, started joyously on his fearful task.

Joyously, for if ever man rejoiced at the gates of death it was Harry Marvin. To him the chance to risk his life today was a blessing and a boon. It was what he had prayed for, hopelessly, on the long motor dash in the wake of the balloon--just the chance to try and save her. To die with her was all he asked; to die fighting for her was all he wanted; and here he was, holding her in his arms on a stout rope, already half way down the cliff.

At the bottom he let her feel the firm earth once more. "Now you can open your eyes," he said.

With his torn hands he started to lift her arms from his neck; but she clung there, weeping.

"Oh, Harry, you are so patient, so good and brave, and I have made you risk your life again for me."

"Sure; that's it; worry about me, now," he grumbled, although he held her tenderly and close. "When will you find out that my life doesn't matter; it's yours that counts?"

"I will never, never do it again," said Pauline like a naughty child.

"You used to say that when you were four years old. It was usually a lie," said Harry.

"I love you," said Pauline irrelevantly.

"Then why-in-the-d.i.c.kens-don't-you-marry me?" he demanded.

"Because--"

She stopped. Steps sounded from the roadway. They peered through the thicket that concealed them and saw Owen approaching.

Pauline hailed him. He turned toward the thicket in obsequious haste.

"Thank Heaven, Miss Marvin," he cried. "It must be a miracle. And you are safe, too," he added, turning to Harry.

"How did you know I was ever in danger?" inquired Harry grimly.

"We heard shots," explained Owen. "We saw the balloon fall and we knew what you had done. It was magnificent. I congratulate you."

"Congratulate Polly," said Harry. "She slid out of Heaven, while I only slid down hill."

"Where is your car, Mr. Marvin?"

"Up on the hill--if the kind persons who cut the chain didn't take it with them."

Owen did not change color. "I will go and see if it is there. If not, I'll find Hicks and his runabout. He's waiting somewhere about."

He set off briskly up the road.

"Polly, you still trust that man?" asked Harry.

"One has to trust one's guardian, doesn't one?"

He tossed his hands above his head in a gesture of "Give it all up."

"That's right; keep 'em there," said a rough voice, and a wiry man with white handkerchiefs tied over his face below the eyes sprang with crunching strides through the bushes. "Keep up your hands, I say," he thundered at Harry, as he leveled a revolver.

Pauline was beside him and Harry dared not move. But Pauline dared.

With the resourceful courage that always inspired her she whipped his revolver out his hip pocket and fired at the intruder's head.

His hat fluttered off into the road. He sprang at Pauline and wrested the gun from her. As Harry rushed him, he had no time to fire, but the b.u.t.t of one revolver crashed on the young man's forehead. Harry sank unconscious in the road.