The Pony Rider Boys in the Rockies Part 15

The shout of joy that had framed itself on the lips of Ned Rector and Stacy Brown died out in an indistinct murmur.

"Is it possible! What are we going to do, Thomas--how are we to rescue the boy?"

Lige Thomas made no reply to the question as he ran past them, and, dropping down, leaned over the cliff, holding the torch he had brought far out ahead of him.

"See anything?" asked Tad tremulously, creeping to his side.

"Looks like a clump of bushes down there. But I ain't sure. Can you make it out?"

"No. All I can see is rocks and shadows. Where is it that you think you see bushes?"

"Over there to the right, just near the edge of the light s.p.a.ce made by the torch light," answered the guide.

"Yes," agreed Tad, "that does look like bushes. I'll call to Walter and tell him we are coming. Hey, Walter! Where are you?"

"H--e--r--e," was the faint response. "All right, old man. Stick tight and don't get scared. We'll have you out of that in no time."

"Don't move around. Lie perfectly still," warned the guide. "Are you hurt?"

To this question Walter made some reply that was unintelligible to them.

"Now, what are we going to do, I'd like to know?" asked Ned.

"I don't know," answered Lige, frowning thoughtfully. "It's a tough job. If I had a couple of mountaineers who knew their business, we'd stand a better chance of pulling him up."

"Why not get a rope and let it down to him," suggested Tad.

"Yes, that's the only way we can do it. Run over to the cook tent and tell Jose to give you those rawhide lariats that he will find behind his bunk. Hurry!"

Tad was off almost before the words were out of the mouth of the guide, and in the briefest possible time came racing back with the leather coils, which he tossed to Lige before reaching him, that there might not be even a second's delay.

The mountaineer quickly formed a loop in one end of the rope, making it large enough to permit of its slipping over the shoulders of a man. This he dropped over the brink, after splicing two lariats together, and directing Ned Rector to make the other end fast about the trunk of a tree by giving it a couple of hitches.

"h.e.l.lo, down there! Let me know when the rope reaches you. Can you slip it over your shoulders and under your arms?" called the guide.

There was no response.

"I say, down there!" shouted Lige.

"That's funny," wondered Tad. "H-e-l-l-o-o-o-o, Walt!"

But not a sound came up from the black depths in answer to the boy's hail. They gazed at each other in perplexity.

"Has--he---gone?" asked the Professor weakly.

"No. We should have heard him if he had," answered Lige. "If I could see him I'd la.s.so him and haul him up. But I don't dare try it. Then again, these roots on a wall of rock ain't any too strong usually. I don't dare try any experiments."

"What do you think has happened to him?" asked Tad in a troubled voice.

"Fainted, probably. He ain't very strong, you know. And that tumble's enough to knock the sense out of a full grown man. Ain't no use to expect him to hook himself onto the line, even if he does wake up,"

decided the guide with emphasis, beginning to haul up the lariat, which he coiled neatly on the rock in front of him.

"Then what are we going to do? We've got to get Walt up here, even if I have to jump over after him," said Tad firmly.

"Right you are, young man. But talking won't do it. Something else besides saying you're going to will be necessary."

"What would you suggest!"

"One of us must go down there," was the guide's startling announcement. "That's the only way we can reach him," explained Lige, dangling the loop of the lariat in his hands as he looked from one to the other.

"D--do--down in that dark place? Oh!" exclaimed Chunky.

"In that case, you will have to go yourself, Thomas," decided the Professor sharply. "I could not think of allowing any of my charges to take so terrible a risk, and----"

"Let me go, Mr. Thomas," interrupted Ned Rector, stepping forward, with almost a challenge in his eyes.

"No; I am the lighter of the two," urged Tad. "I am the one to go after Walt, if anyone has to. I'll go down, Mr. Thomas."

"Master Tad is right," decided the guide, gazing at the two boys approvingly. "It will be better for him to go, if he will----"

"And he most certainly will," interrupted Tad, advancing a step.

"I protest!" shouted the Professor. "You yourself should go, Lige. You are----"

"I am needed right here, sir," replied the guide, shortly. "You'd have both of us at the bottom if I left it to you to take care of this end."

"I'm ready, sir when you are," reminded Tad.

The guide, without further delay, and giving no heed to Professor Zepplin's nervous protests, slipped the noose over Tad's shoulders, and, drawing it down and up under his arms, secured the knot so that the loop might not tighten under the weight of the boy's body.

"Now, be very careful. Make no sudden moves. And, if you meet with anything unlooked for, let me know at once. You know, you will have to stay down there while we are drawing the boy up. But, before removing the rope from your own body, make sure that you are safe. If you find the support too weak to bear your weight, let me know. I'll send down another rope to which you can tie yourself until we get Master Walter to the top. Be sure to fasten him securely to the loop before you give the signal to haul up," warned the guide. "Here, put my gun in your pocket."

"I understand."

"Are you ready?"

"Yes."

Tad tossed away his sombrero and sat down on a shelf of rock at the edge of the cliff, his feet dangling over.

The lad's face was pale, the lines on it standing out in sharp ridges; but not by so much as the flicker of an eyelid did he betray the slightest nervousness. Yet Tad Butler realized fully the perilous nature of his undertaking, and that the least mistake on his part or on the part of those above him might mean a sudden end to his earthly ambitions.

Lige shortened the hitch about the tree, until the line drew taut. After winding the end tightly about his own arm, he handed a lighted torch to Tad.

It was a trying moment for all of them, and naturally more so for the boy who was about to descend into the unknown depths of the mountain canyou.

"Right!" announced the guide in a rea.s.suring voice.

Tad made no reply, but, turning so that he faced them, let himself carefully over the ledge, his right hand holding the torch, his left firmly gripping the ledge so that there might be no jolt on the line by a too sudden stepping-off.