Alton of Somasco | Page 5

close beneath. Then a voice came up, "Wasn't there a dry
goods package of some kind, Charley?"
"There was," shouted Seaforth. "But come up with what you've got, and
leave it."

A faint laugh answered him, and through the moaning of the pines he
caught the words, "If it's not over the edge here, I'm going to get the
thing."
Seaforth said nothing further. He knew his comrade too well, and could
picture him clinging by hand and heel as he crawled along the brink of
the declivity with the lake below, and gasped from relief when once
more a dim whitened object lurched up out of the snow.
"Got them all," said Alton cheerfully. "That last one was just on the
edge, and it took some thinking before I could get at it. Still, I guessed
it was some kind of dress stuff for the girl, and if we lost it it might be a
long while before she got another."
They relashed the packages and went on again, floundering through
steadily deepening snow, until once more the roar of water met them as
they dipped into a hollow. It grew louder rapidly, and presently Alton
pulled the Cayuse up on the brink of a river. It came down frothing out
of a haze of sliding snow, tumbling with a hoarse growl about the great
dim boulders, whirled and tossed in a white confusion down the wild
race of a rapid, and was lost again. How far the other bank was there
was nothing to show, for even the scattered pines behind the men were
hidden now, and Seaforth stared at the tumult of froth before him very
dubiously.
"She's pretty full to-night," he said. "It has got to be attempted, but I'm
not quite sure how we're going through."
Alton laughed a little, and brought his hand down on the Cayuse pony's
flank. "Well, if you'll come along behind me you will see," said he.
Seaforth was waist-deep next minute, and the water was horribly cold.
Then he was washed against a boulder, and fancied that one of the
pack-beasts kicked him in its floundering. In any case one knee seemed
to grow suddenly useless, but he was not very sure of anything just then,
for a burst of spray filled his eyes, and the bottom appeared to slip from
under him. He found foothold again in a moment or two, and dimly
saw Alton's head and shoulders above the back of a plunging beast,

while another was apparently swimming somewhere between them.
Then the one Seaforth led stumbled, and they went away down stream
together, clawing for a foothold with the shingle slipping under them,
until there was a thud as they brought up against another boulder. As he
was not sensible of any especially painful blow Seaforth decided that it
was the pony which had struck the rock, and had just come to this
decision when his feet were swept from under him, and, still clinging to
the bridle, he was pressed against the stone while the river frothed and
roared about him.
Once more he felt that it was horribly cold, and flung a wet arm about
the rock, but the power seemed to go out of him, and he wondered
vacantly whether the pony would be able to extricate itself and him. It
floundered spasmodically for a while, and then lay still. How long this
continued Seaforth did not know, but it was more than twelve hours
since he had left Somasco, and he had plodded up and down steep
hillsides, over rock and boulder, and through deep mire and snow, most
of the time, while there are limits to the domination the will of any man
may exercise over his worn-out body.
Seaforth had commenced to realize, still with a curious absence of
concern which was possibly the result of cold and fatigue, that as the
pony could not help him it might be too late very soon unless he made
a vigorous effort to help himself, when he heard a shout, and something
came slowly through the sliding whiteness in his direction. Then there
was another shout, and when somebody dragged the pony clear of the
boulder he held on by the bridle and went floundering waist-deep up
stream. The water, however, now sank rapidly, and soon he was clear
of it to the knee. Then there was a clatter of hoofs on slippery rock, and
he lurched dripping and gasping into the partial shelter of the pines.
Somebody smote him on the shoulder, and he heard Alton's voice, "Get
hold and hustle. We'll fetch Townshead's in an hour or so."
CHAPTER II
AT TOWNSHEAD'S RANCH

It was chilly and damp in the log-walled living-room of the Townshead
homestead, which stood far up in a