The Pony Rider Boys in the Rockies Part 14

"That the boy is dead. Look!" exclaimed the guide, fairly diving to the ground, and rising with a round stone in his hand. He held it up almost triumphantly for their inspection.

But his find failed to make any noticeable impression upon either the boys or Professor Zepplin. They knew that in some mysterious way it must be connected with the loss of their companion, though just how they were at a loss to understand.

"I don't catch your idea, Lige," stammered the Professor. "I understand that you have picked up a stone. What has that to do with Walter?"

"Why, don't you see? He must have dislodged it when he fell off the mountain."

"No; I do not see why you say that."

"And up there, if you will look sharply, you will observe the path it followed coming down," continued Lige, elevating the torch that they might judge for themselves of the correctness of his a.s.sertion.

But, keen-eyed as were most of the party, they were unable to find the tell-tale marks which were so plain to the mountaineer.

"What do you think we had better do, sir?" asked Tad Butler anxiously.

"Go back to camp. I should like to leave someone here--but----"

"I'll stay, if you wish," offered Tad promptly.

"No, I couldn't think of it. It's too risky, There is no need of our getting into more trouble. If you knew the mountains better it might be different. If I left you here you might get into more difficulties, even, than your friend has. No; we'll go back together. It is doubtful if we could do anything for poor Master Walter now. No human being could go over that cliff and still be alive. A bob-cat might do it, but not a man or a boy," announced the guide, with a note of finality in his tone.

Sorrowfully the party turned and began to retrace their steps. But the necessity for caution not being so great on the return, most of the way being up a steep declivity, they moved along much faster than had been the case on their previous journey over the trail.

The return to camp was accomplished without incident, and the boys slipped away to their tents that they might be alone with their thoughts.

Professor Zepplin and the guide, however, sat down by the camp fire, where they talked in low tones.

Tad, upon reaching his tent, threw himself on his cot, burying his head in his arms.

"I can't stand it! I simply can't!" he exclaimed after a little. "It's too awful!"

The boy sprang up, and going outside, paced restlessly back and forth in front of the tent, with hands thrust deep into his trousers pockets, manfully struggling to keep hack the tears that persistently came into his eyes.

A sudden thought occurred to him.

With a quick, inquiring glance at the two figures by the fire, Tad slipped quietly to the left, and nearing the scene of the accident, crept cautiously along on all fours. He flattened himself on the ground, face down, his head at the very spot where his companion had, supposedly, taken the fatal plunge.

For several minutes the boy lay there, now and then his slight figure shaken by a sob that he was powerless to keep back.

"I cannot have it--I don't believe it is true. I wish it had been I instead of Walt," he muttered in the excess of his grief. "I----"

Tad cheeked himself sharply and raised his head.

"I thought I heard something," he breathed. "I know I heard something."

He listened intently and shivered.

Yet the only sounds that broke the stillness of the mountain night were the faint calls of the night birds and the distant cry of a roaming cougar.

"H-e-l-p!"

Faint though the call was, it smote Tad Butler's ears like a blow. Never had the sound of a human voice thrilled him as did that plaintive appeal from the black depths below.

He hesitated, to make sure that it was not a delusion of his excited imagination.

Once more the call came.

"Help!"

This time, however, it was uttered in the shrill, piercing voice of Tad Butler himself, and the men back there by the camp fire started to their feet in sudden alarm while Ned Rector and Stacy Brown came tumbling from their tents in terrified haste.

"What is it! What is it?" they shouted.

Instead of answering them, Lige Thomas, with a mighty leap, cleared the circle of light and sprang for the bushes from which the sound had seemed to come. He was followed quickly by the others. Both the guide and Professor Zepplin had recognized the voice, and each believed that Tad Butler had gone to share the fate of Walter Perkins.

Yet, when Lige heard Tad tearing through the underbrush toward him, he knew that this was not the case.

"What is it?" bellowed the guide in a strident voice.

"It's Walt! He's down there! Quick! Help!"

CHAPTER VIII

A DARING RESCUE

Lige thrust the excited boy to one side. Running to the edge of the cliff, he leaned over and listened intently.

A moment more and he too caught the plaintive cry for help from below.

It was the first time thus far on the journey that Lige Thomas had manifested the slightest sign of excitement. Just now, however, there could be no doubt at all that he was intensely agitated.

"Keep back! Keep back!" he shouted, as the boys and Professor Zepplin began crowding near the masked edge of the cliff. "You'll all be over if you don't have a care. We've got trouble enough on our hands without having the rest of you jump into it."

"What is it?" demanded the Professor breathlessly.

"It's Master Walt," snapped the guide. "Stand still. Don't move an inch. I'm going back for a torch," he commanded, leaping by them on his way to the camp fire.

"Where--is--he?" stammered the Professor, not observing that the guide had left them.

"Down there, sir," explained Tad, pointing to the ledge of rock over which Walter had fallen.

"I know--I know--but----"

"I heard him call. Walt's alive! Walt's alive! But I don't know how we are going to get him."