CHAPTER IX
FACING A MOUNTAIN LION
As Teddy Manley rolled and tumbled down the incline, sudden stabs of searing, burning pain shot through his body. There was one thought paramount in his mind—that he must stop himself soon or be dashed to death on the rocks below. His fingers sought to grasp some solid object, that he might cling to it; but with a sob the boy realized that there was nothing here to seize except loose stones which mocked his efforts by falling upon him in an avalanche.
The thought came to him that perhaps this was the end—that he had escaped all the other dangers of life, only to be killed, ignominiously, so it seemed to him, by a fall down a mountain side. Strangely enough, he could look at this picture with clear imagination, even while his arms were pressing vainly the earth as he shot downward. Never, it seemed, had he been able to think so clearly. Flash, his pony, where was he now? Teddy hoped whoever had him would treat him well. He deserved it. Flash was a good bronc. None better. If only Roy hadn’t— That small tree just below—reach out and grab it—hold on—hold on—
With a breath-taking jolt, Teddy hit the tree and clutched desperately at its slim trunk. For a second that seemed an eternity, he clung there, hoping. Then a sharp crack, the tree gave way, and Teddy slid down, down—
Below him a ledge of rock stuck its ugly lip out into space. Nice drop, that—must be thirty feet. Those gray things at the bottom must be boulders. Which one would he hit? Ah—h—
For one terrible moment Teddy hung on the edge. Then a swift drop—and night closed about him with velvet wings.
How long he had lain there unconscious, Teddy never learned. He opened his eyes upon a sky ripped and torn by red lightning flashes. Idly he lay on his back, staring upward at the unusual spectacle of a thunder storm without thunder or rain, and with red lightning instead of white. Queer, that! He’d have to tell Roy about it. Where was Roy, by the way? He’d enjoy this. He always did like sunsets and such things. Poetry, too! Funny fellow. Reading books of verses! Like mom, maybe. She used to be a school teacher. Denver, or some place like that. Jimminy, look at that streak of fire! All the way across the sky! Watch for the next one, now. Why, was the storm over? Certainly there were no more lightning flashes. Seemed to be clearing up. Wow, what a headache!
With a supreme effort that caused a wave of pain that almost overpowered him, Teddy struggled to a sitting position. He looked around him in a puzzled manner, trying hard to adjust his mind to the scene about him. The sky was as blue as it always was, and there was no sign of a storm. The red flashes had disappeared. In the west, the sun, a huge ball of fire, was casting a radiance on the forest below. It was nearly evening.
Teddy shook his head to clear it, then pressed his hand to his lips to keep back a cry of agony. He must not give in. But, for a moment, the boy fell back upon the rock, breathing hard.
When he raised himself again the searing sensations at the back of his head had turned to dull, aching pain. Gingerly, the boy moved first one leg, and then the other. They seemed all right. Neither of his arms was broken. Taking a deep breath, Teddy determined to stand. It was easy—just bend one leg under him, lean on his elbow, and push upward. Then his head would have to come along, no matter how much it wanted to lie quietly on the cool rocks. Now—one, two, three! He was up!
Wondering how long his legs would support him, Teddy leaned weakly against a wall of rock. Steady, now! He’d have to figure this thing out. Here he was in a prison of rock. On three sides there arose the bare, hard granite. The front of this rocky cubicle was open, and Teddy staggered to the edge and looked over. Below him yawned a sheer drop of two or three hundred feet. Now the question was, how in thunder did he get here?
He had fallen, that was one sure thing. No doubt about that, Teddy thought, as he looked ruefully at his torn clothes and bruised and bleeding hands. But how did he get so sliced up? A fall would never have done that. The fall could have caused that cut on his head, but not these rents in his clothes. Why, he looked as though he’d been put through a meat-chopper.
If his head would stop whirling for a moment he might be able to figure this out! Think, now. Thirsty—yes, he was thirsty. Awfully thirsty. He must find some water. A spring. A spring! Why, he was looking for a spring! That’s what happened! He and Roy were thirsty, so they separated, trying to find that spring! Then that slide!
A shudder passed over Teddy’s body. Memory returned with a rush, and with it came desperate realization. He was trapped here, alone, and he had no way to tell Roy and the others where he was! Suppose they never found him? Suppose the horse he had fallen from wandered far off and misled the others in their search? Teddy gave a shiver. Then he straightened up. Have to cut that out. He had been in worse fixes than this, and he always had gotten out all right. He would this time, too. Dad and Roy would surely find him. If he only had some water! He was burning up.
He put his hand to his head and brought it away covered with a dark, sticky substance. Blood! No wonder it ached so. He’d have to find some water and bathe it.
Over to the right was some sort of a depression in the rock. Perhaps there was water there! Hope surging high within him, the ranch boy staggered toward the spot and, with a cry of joy, flung himself face downward beside a pool of sparkling water. He buried his face in it, and drank in great gulps.
The point of saturation being reached, Teddy stopped, and, tearing a piece from his shirt, soaked it in the water and bathed his head. The coolness felt wonderfully soothing, and, much refreshed, the boy arose and considered matters. The situation seemed not half so desperate as it had been before he had found the spring.
True, night was approaching and the pangs of hunger were becoming more severe.
“Yet if one has water, one can go for a number of days without food,� the boy murmured. “And I feel sure that help will come before long.�
Up to this point the boy had refrained from calling, both from a feeling of weakness and the thought that it would do little good. Now, however, he raised his head and sent a yell echoing up into the stillness. He waited tensely for an answer. None came, and, after a moment, he shouted again. But his head was beginning to whirl, and he was compelled to sit down for a moment.
“Can’t afford to do much of that,� he said grimly to himself.
A thought came to him, and he drew his revolver, which, luckily, was still in the holster at his side. He pointed it aloft and was about to pull the trigger when he hesitated. Then, with a gesture of despair, he shoved the gun back into the holster. He could not waste the ammunition. If night caught him here, it was probable that he would need all his bullets for defense against the animals which might seek out that spring. They would not wantonly attack him, he knew, but if they thought he was trying to keep them from water, they might attempt to make an onset on him. The animals were all of the cat family, but Teddy had seen some huge mountain lions in that section. They could easily kill a defenseless man if they were so minded.
Feeling much stronger now, Teddy proceeded thoroughly to investigate his “prison.� If there were a means of escape, it would be well to find it before night settled, otherwise he would have to wait until morning. He could take no chances on climbing up a cliff in the dark, especially in his weakened condition.
First he threw himself on his face at the edge of the cliff and peered down. That way was closed to him—the rock was as smooth as a shingled roof and it would be worse than folly to attempt a descent. There was but one thing left—to climb up, if he could, and regain the ledge from which he had fallen.
At first glance, this seemed as hopeless as it would be to climb down. But Teddy, born and reared in this country, knew that though often these crags appear insurmountable they are not really so, for by clinging to the vines which grow on them and getting a foothold in small depressions worn by the action of the elements, one can sometimes reach the top. Certainly, it was dangerous. Yet, Teddy thought, he had just fallen from the very height he wished to conquer. And, with a grim smile, he murmured:
“What’s one fall more or less between friends?�
Taking another long drink from the spring, Teddy began his tour of inspection. The red of the sky had deepened to orange, and the boy knew that at the most, he had but an hour of daylight left. If he were going to make the attempt, now was the time.
Tightening his belt, the boy walked over to the rocky wall. Here the vines seemed heaviest, and Teddy experimented by seizing one of the creepers and resting his weight on it. There was a crackling of wood as it pulled away from the side of the cliff, but it held, and Teddy determined to take the chance.
He was just about to draw himself up when a noise behind him caused him to hesitate. He did not immediately look around, for he was held in that sort of helpless panic one feels when he realizes there is something behind which one dreads to face. Hands upraised, clutching the vine, Teddy stood motionless. But he must look behind him. He had that queer feeling that he was not alone—that some one or something was standing on the rocky floor, watching him.
Suddenly, desperately, he jerked his head around. Then his face blanched. Not ten feet from him, tail lashing angrily, was one of the largest mountain lions he had ever seen!