Part 38 (1/2)
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