To Win or to Die Part 2

But the bodily agony was as nothing to the mental anguish which he suffered. Death was before him if he lay there--death in a painless, insidious form, no doubt; but still, death in all its horror to one so young and strong.

He knew that he must rise and keep moving if he wished to prolong his existence, and he rose to his feet, raging now against the cowardly gang, and more against himself.

"I was a fool and a coward," he groaned. "Why didn't I fight for my life? Great heaven! What shall I do?"

He paused for a moment, meaning to turn back and make an attack upon his enemies.

But, unarmed as he was, he knew it was madness, and he tramped on through the darkness in the faint hope of finding help, but with his heart sinking as he grasped the fact that fate or the management of the gang had driven him onward farther into the defile, and away from the aid he might have found if he had made his way back to his morning's starting-place.

Fully satisfied that death would be his portion, he struggled on aimlessly till utterly exhausted; and then he paused, breathless, to go over once more the scene by the glowing fire, and ask himself whether he had not been to blame for displaying his distrust after the way in which he had been rescued. But he could only come back to his old way of thinking--that he had fallen among thieves of the worst type, and that he owed his life to the prompt way in which he had escaped.

Recovering his breath somewhat, he stood listening as he gazed back through the darkness; but all was still. There were no signs of pursuit, so, taking out his handkerchief, he folded it into a bandage, and with one hand and his teeth contrived to bind and tie it tightly round his wound so as to stop the bleeding, which was beginning to cause a strange sensation of faintness.

He had been hot with exertion when he stopped, but now the feeling of exhilaration caused by his escape died out as rapidly as the heat. A deadly chill attacked mind and body, for his position seemed crushing.

It was horrible beyond bearing, and for the moment he was ready to throw himself down in his despair. The intense cold would, he knew, soon bring on a sensation of drowsiness, which would result in sleep, and there would be no pain--nothing but rest from which there would be no awakening; and then--

Then the coward feeling was driven back in a brave effort--a last struggle for life.

The cold was intense, the darkness thicker than ever, for the sides of the ravine had been closing in till only a narrow strip of faintly marked sky was visible, while at every few steps taken slowly the poor fellow stumbled over some inequality and nearly fell.

At times he struck himself heavily, but he was beyond feeling pain, and in his desperation these hindrances acted merely as spurs to fresh effort, for he was on the way to safety. At any minute he felt that he might catch sight of another gleam of light, the camp fire of some other adventurer, and he knew that some of those on the way to the great Eldorado must be men who would help and even protect a fellow-creature in his dire state of peril.

But he knew that this intense feeling of energy could not last, that he was rapidly growing weaker, and that ere many minutes had elapsed he would once more stumble and fall, and this time the power to rise again would have pa.s.sed away.

Was it too late to return to his enemies and make an appeal for his life? he asked himself at last. They might show him mercy, and life was so sweet.

But as these thoughts flickered through his brain in the half delirium fast deadening his power of thinking coherently, he once more saw the scene by the fire, and the faces of the three scoundrels stood out clearly with that relentless look, that cruel b.e.s.t.i.a.l glare of the eye, which told him that an appeal would but hasten his end.

"Better fall into the hands of G.o.d than men like them," he groaned, and setting his teeth hard he tottered on a few yards farther, with the snow growing less deep, the ground more stony.

Then the end came sooner than he expected, for his feet caught against something stretched across his way, and he fell heavily, uttering a cry of horror as he struggled to his knees.

For it was no block of stone, no tree-trunk torn from some shelf in the precipice above; he grasped the fact in an instant that he had tripped over a sledge similar to his own, to fall headlong upon the ghastly evidence of what was to be his own fate; for stiff and cold in the shallow snow, his fingers had come upon the body of some unfortunate treasure-seeker, and as, half-wild with horror, he forced himself to search with his hands to discover whether some spark of life might yet be burning, it was to find that whoever it was must have laid calmly down in his exhaustion, clasping his companion to his breast to give and receive the warmth that might save both their lives.

Vain effort. The man's breast was still for ever, and the faithful dog that had nestled closely with his muzzle in his master's neck was stiff and stark.

"G.o.d help me!" groaned the adventurer, clasping his hands and letting them fall softly on the dead; "is this the ending of my golden dream?"

CHAPTER THREE.

IN THE DARK.

The horrible chill of impending death, the bright light of reason, and the intense desire to live, roused the half-stunned adventurer to action.

Die? Like that? No!--when salvation was offered to him in this way.

It was horrible, but it was for life. There, close by him, slightly powdered with snow, was the unfortunate's sledge, and in an instant he was tearing at the rope which bound its load to the framework.

He could hardly believe his good fortune, for as the rope fell from the packages the first thing he set free was a fur-lined coat, possibly one which the dead man was too much exhausted to a.s.sume.

Suffering keenly from the cold, this was put on at once; and then, continuing the search, it was to find that a rifle was bound along one side, balanced by tools on the other. Then there were blankets and stores similar, as far as he could judge, to those with which his own sledge had been laden.

The warmth afforded by the thick garment and the exertion increased the thrill of returning energy. For he was no longer helpless to continue his journey. It could be no act of injustice to the dead to take possession of the means of saving his own life; and now all thought of giving up without making a desperate struggle was completely gone.

Soon after a fresh thrill of returning energy swept through him, and, turning quickly back to where the dead were lying, he knelt there, hesitating for a few moments before, with his determination increasing, he softly thrust the dog aside, and felt about the dead man's waist.

He shuddered as his hands came in contact with the icy feeling of cold, but it was for life, and a feeling of joy shot through him, for it was as he had hoped. In a few minutes he had unfastened a buckle, turned the body over slightly, and that which he sought to obtain yielded to the steady pull he gave.

He had drawn free the dead man's belt, bringing with it his revolver in its little holster and the pouchful of cartridges.

That seemed to give new life to him as he buckled the belt about his waist. Then, taking out the pistol, he felt it in the dark, to find that it was loaded in every chamber, and that the lock worked easily and well.

The pistol replaced in the belt, the young man remained thinking, with all his energy seeming to have returned. What was he to do next? There was food of some kind on the sledge, and he must eat. There were blankets, and with them and the sledge for shelter he must rest and sleep.

There was the dead man and his faithful dog, but their near presence brought no feeling of horror. He felt that he could kneel down by the poor fellow and offer up a prayer for His mercies, and then lie down to sleep in perfect trust of awakening at daybreak, for he was no longer suffering from exhaustion, and hardly felt the cold.

"But not yet--not yet," he muttered, and a faint sound broke the silence as he stood there, his teeth grinding softly together, while his next words, uttered half aloud, told the direction his thoughts had taken.

"The cowardly dogs!" he exclaimed. "Three to one, and him unarmed. But not now--not now."

A brief search brought his hands in contact with a canvas satchel-bag, in which were ship's biscuits, and one of these he took. It would suffice.

Breaking it and beginning to eat, he set off at once on the back track to execute his daring project, one which made him glow to his finger-tips.

"Better go on," he said with a mocking laugh. "Yes, but not yet.

They're cowards--such scoundrels always are--and the darkness will magnify the number of the attack.

"Bah! talking to myself again; but I'm not going mad. I can't go on without letting them taste something of what they have given me."

He tramped on slowly, but the return journey seemed less difficult, and he wondered now that he should feel so fresh and glowing with a spreading warmth. It was as dark as ever, but he had no fear of not finding his way; and sooner than he expected, and just as he was finishing the last sc.r.a.p of hard biscuit, he caught sight of the faint light of the fire from which he had been driven.

The sight of it sent fresh vigour through his limbs, and his plan was soon made. He would keep on till there was the risk of being heard, and then creep closer till well within shot, and his sleeping enemies thrown up by the fire, which they had evidently made up well before settling themselves down for the night.

He felt sure that at the first report they would spring up and run for their lives, and he meant to fire at each if he had time, and scare them, for he felt disposed to show as much mercy as he would to a pack of savage wolves.

But matters were not to fall out exactly as he had calculated. He tramped steadily on, with the fire growing brighter, and at last he took out the revolver to examine it by touch once more, as he walked on more swiftly now, meaning to go forward a hundred yards or so and then proceed more cautiously, so as to make sure the enemy was asleep.

All at once he stopped short, startled.

The enemy was not asleep, for he saw a dark shadow pa.s.s before the glowing light.

The adventurer stopped short for a few moments, but not in hesitation.

It was merely to alter his plan of attack; but the next minute all planning was cast to the winds, for there rang out on the night air a wild cry for help--such an appeal as he had himself uttered so short a time before.

The cry was repeated, sending a thrill of excitement through the listener, and telling its own tale. To the hearer it was as plain as if he had been told that the gang of ruffians had waylaid another unfortunate, who was about to share his own fate.

He rushed forward at once, and as he ran and stumbled he could see that a desperate struggle was going on, figures in fierce contention pa.s.sing in front of and once trampling through the fire, whose embers were kicked and scattered in all directions.