Northwest! Part 38

Peter studied the ridge. He had hunted mountain sheep and imagined sun and frost had worn the rocks to something like a knife-edge. In places, sharp pinnacles broke the top, and he thought it significant that for the most part the snow did not lie. The shadow behind the top, no doubt, marked a great precipitous gulf, but the farther end of the ridge touched a white hollow between two peaks. If one could get across, one might find a glacier going down the other side.

"I reckon your friends couldn't make it between sun-up and dark," he said. "Anyhow, the police would see them on the rocks."

"Stannard might hit a line a few yards below the top, but I imagine the clouds will soon roll up. Give me the gla.s.ses. I want to locate a gully that goes for some distance up the ridge."

Peter saw his object. The long ridge ran back obliquely from farther up the valley and to get up by the line Deering marked would cut out the corner. Moreover Peter imagined the police had reached Jimmy's hut, and if they found the tracks of Stannard's party, they would climb the ridge from the other end. In consequence, Deering's going up the gully would put him in front.

"I guess we'll start. When we noon we'll be nearer, and if the mist's not thick, you can look for the line you want."

They went down the hill, and by and by the cloud rolled up the slope, and rocks and peaks were lost in gloom. Then Deering began to get tired, for although there was no snow at the bottom of the valley, the ground was rough. After an hour or two he pushed into the timber and stopped.

"Perhaps it's risky, but I've got to eat and take a rest," he said. "The trees are pretty thick, and if the smoke goes up, the hill's a good background."

They cooked some food and then sat by the fire. Not far off the belt of trees was broken, and presently Deering saw the cloud had got thin and begun to roll back, up the mountains. Vague rocks pierced the vapor and grew distinct; the mist trailed away from battered trees and slanted fields of snow. For a time it clung about the high dark precipices, and then one saw the snow-packed gullies seam the crags like marble veins. A faint light pierced the vapor, and the broken top of the ridge began to cut the background.

Deering pulled out his gla.s.ses and went to the opening in the wood. The light was getting stronger, but he did not think the cloud would altogether melt and he must search the rocks while search was possible.

By and by a beam touched the ridge and the snow glimmered like pale gold against blue shadow. Above the shadow were broken peaks, but the belt of dark blue indicated a gap and Deering, noting the strong color, thought the gap profound.

The landscape, lighted by the unsteady beam, was strangely beautiful.

The pale illumination did not travel far and the rocks outside its reach owed something of their mysterious grandeur to the contrast. Deering, however, was not romantic and thought he saw a line, across a steep, white slope and up a b.u.t.tress, to the ridge. If he could get up, he would cut Stannard's track and imagined he would not be much behind the party.

He concentrated on the ridge. The slope along the top was not even but went up, rather like a terraced walk. Rocky b.u.t.tresses supported the terraces, and, for the most part, the stones were free from snow; Deering knew this indicated a very steep pitch. One b.u.t.tress was marked by a broad white band, and when he rubbed the gla.s.ses he thought he saw on the snow a small object he had not remarked before. The object moved, and calling Peter, he gave him the gla.s.ses.

"What's that? A cinnamon?"

"The bears have come down," said Peter. "The big-horn have gone for the low benches. I guess the thing's a man."

Deering agreed and waited. Perhaps it was strange, but of all the animals, civilized man alone was willing to front the cold on the daunting heights. The ridge, outlined against a vague background of majestic peaks, looked as remote as another world. To imagine flesh and blood could reach it was hard, but Deering meant to try and knew Stannard's calculating steadiness. If one went carefully, studying the obstacles, and using the ax and rope--

"It's a man all right. I see another," said Jardine and gave Deering the gla.s.ses. Deering saw three men. They advanced very slowly, and he pictured their cutting steps before they moved. One crossed the snow-belt and vanished. When he was anch.o.r.ed in the rocks he would steady his companions. Deering knew it was Stannard, for Stannard would not trust a poor guide at a spot like that. The others, perhaps, were Dillon and Stevens. Then he saw two more; Gillane, the packer, and Jimmy. Anyhow, Stannard had started with three companions and now he had four. Deering knew all he wanted to know.

He watched the party, strung out at even distances, move across the white band; and then the figures melted. They had not reached the other side, but when he rubbed his gla.s.ses they were gone. The peaks in the background vanished, the ridge got indistinct, and the black pines on the lower snow-fields faded, as if a curtain were drawn across the picture.

Deering shut his gla.s.ses and went for his pack. The mist was not thick and he knew his line to the b.u.t.tress.

"Put out the fire and let's get off," he said.

"You can't cross the ridge in the dark and the cold's going to be fierce," Peter remarked.

"That is so. I doubt if Stannard can make the neck, but if he gets there, he must wait for morning. Maybe we'll find a hole in the rocks."

Peter said nothing. He had engaged to go where the other went and must try to make good, although the road was daunting. In thick timber, a bushman can front biting cold; but on the high, icy rocks one could not make camp and light a fire. If their luck were very good, they might find a hole behind a stone, in which they must wait for daybreak and try not to freeze.

He put out the fire and when they went through the wood pondered gloomily. To reach the neck would cost them much; but to get there was not all. They must get down on the other side, and, for the most part, the mountain tops were tremendous precipices. Peter rather thought the neck opened on a glacier, but sometimes a glacier is broken by awkward ice-falls.

All the same, Peter set his mouth and pushed ahead. In the valley, he could hit up the pace for Deering, but he imagined to follow the big fellow on the rocks was another thing. When a bushman took the rocks he went to shoot big-horn and bear. The mountain clubmen studied climbing as one studies the ball-game.

XXIX

HELD UP

A few pale stars were in the sky and the moon was over a vague, gray peak. Deering s.h.i.+vered, beat his numbed hands, and looked about. The frost was keen and he had not thought he could sleep, but when he looked about before the stars were bright and the moon was not above the peak.

In front, the b.u.t.tress cut the sky, and although the rocks were indistinct, he saw the belt of snow Stannard had crossed. Since Stannard had got his party up the b.u.t.tress, Deering imagined he could get up; but the rocks were awkward.

Deering wore the railroad man's skin coat and a thick Hudson's Bay blanket. For climbing their weight was an embarra.s.sment, but he would sooner carry the load than freeze. Although he lay with his shoulders against Jardine, he was numb, and the outside of the blanket sparkled with frost. A tilted slab partly covered them, but the gravel in the hole was frozen and Deering's hip-joint hurt. The worst trouble was, when he was very cold his brain got dull and he hated to use effort. Yet effort was needed, for day had begun to break and he must cross the neck by dark. To stop another night on the high rocks was unthinkable and he knew his luck might turn. If thick snow fell or a strong wind blew, he and Peter would stay on the rocks for good.

Moreover, Jimmy was in front, and Deering thought Jimmy ran a daunting risk. He ought to get up and start, but he shrank from the frost, and for a minute or two he weighed his grounds for doubting Stannard. Jimmy owed Stannard a large sum and had insured his life. If he went over a precipice, the company would pay Stannard. Deering admitted the argument looked ridiculous; Stannard was highly cultivated, rather extravagant than greedy, and not at all the man to plan a revolting crime. Yet he had not engaged a proper guide and his companions were trustful young fellows whom he could mislead. Moreover, he had gone down into a snow-swept gully to help Leyland and knew this would weigh. Stannard had then expected Jimmy to marry Laura.

Deering pushed Peter, who woke up and grumbled. Deering open his pack awkwardly and pulled out a bannock and some canned meat.

"Day is breaking. When you have had your breakfast we must start."

"Unless I get a hot drink, I've not much use for breakfast," Peter replied. "When do you reckon we'll get down to the timber? When I camp I like a fire."

"Depends on our luck," said Deering, dryly. "I doubt if you'll make a fire to-night."

"If I wasn't a fool, I'd go right back. Stannard's most a day's hike ahead. Then if the police have hit his trail, they're not far behind us."

"We cut out some ground and on the rocks two men go faster than five.

Stannard must find a line for his gang and us. Then I expect he'll be held up for a time at the neck. I don't know where the police are."

Peter ate the bannock and put on his pack. "Well, let's get going!"

The light was not yet good. Their muscles were stiff, physical fatigue reacted on their nervous strength, and at the belt of snow they stopped.

The belt was perhaps ten yards across and occupied a channel in the rocks. The surface was smooth and hard, and Deering imagined if one slipped one would not stop until one reached the valley. A row of small holes, however, indicated that Stannard's party had gone across and up the dark, forbidding b.u.t.tress on the other side. Deering frankly shrank from the labor and risk of crossing, but he dared not turn back.

"Where the boys have gone we mustn't stop," he said. "Tie on the rope and give me the grub-hoe."

Peter gave him the hoe. The blade was curved, like a carpenter's adze, and at its head was a short pick. The tool, although rather heavy, was a good ice-ax. In soft snow, one can kick holes, but the snow was hard and Deering doubted if the notches Stannard had cut would carry him. He used the pick, balancing in a hole while he chipped out the next, and when they got across he sent Peter in front. Their hands were numb and where the snow had melted veins of ice filled the cracks in the rocks. The hold was bad and Peter stopped at the bottom of a slab Deering had remarked when he sent him in front.

"I sure don't know how we're going to get up."

"Stannard got up," said Deering and looked about.

Thirty feet below him the belt of snow pierced the rocks. It looked nearly perpendicular and the snow-field at its foot was horribly steep.

In the shadow, the surface was gray and dark patches marked where rocks pushed through. A very long way down, across a sharp but broken line, the color was blue, and Deering thought the line the top of a precipice.

He turned and looked up. The slab was upright and about ten feet high; he could not see a crack or k.n.o.b, but he noted two or three fresh scratches.

"Lean against the rock and spread your arms," he said, and when Peter did so climbed up his back.

Standing on the other's shoulders, he could reach the top of the slab.

The top was nearly flat and went back for some distance, but the snow was hard. Deering dared not trust his numbed hands and he tried the pick. The blade got hold, but he could not see farther than the handle.

If he had caught a small lump of ice that would not support him, the rope would pull Jardine off the rock. All the same, something must be risked.

"Brace up good," he said and trusted the pick.