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Steve Young, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 32. Steve's Adventure |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTY TWO. STEVE'S ADVENTURE And all this time the object of so much solicitude was as eagerly on the watch for help as his friends were ready to supply it. When the idea struck him that it would be a capital thing to do to run on forward to the foot of the coal cliff and start a fire ready for the time when the sledge was laboriously dragged up, he did not pause to consider whether it would be wise to separate himself from his friends, but darted off at full speed, and in due time reached the spot. He hurriedly built up a number of stones into a circle, and began to collect dry, twiggy stuff to start the blaze, wishing the while that he could see a fir wood with its ample supply of dead, turpentiny branches. But the twigs were strong and promised to burn well, so he proceeded next to collect the weather-worn fragments of coal, which had from time to time crumbled down from above, rent away by the frost. These were scattered here and there, many of them resembling stone; but he soon obtained enough to begin with, and bore them to his rough fireplace, over which he saw in imagination, as he worked, delicious steaks of deer frizzling. He had pressed the bushy scrub down hard to make it burn without flaring away, glanced at the pieces of coal ready to hand, and now began to search his pocket for the little brass box of matches he carried, when as he knelt down there were footsteps behind him and a heavy breathing. "That you, Watty?" he said, without looking round. "Bother the box! Here, Watty, got any matches?" _Phoo_! A deep-toned expiration of the breath was the answer, and the boy turned his head, to find that, not three yards from where he knelt, a huge bear, whose long fur had quite a pale golden tinge in the sunshine, was literally towering over him upon its hind legs with fore paws extended as if to catch him. Steve's spring over the fireplace was of a kind that, improved by practice, was sufficiently fine to promise his taking rank as the greatest standing jumper of his time, while his speed in running certainly merited praise as he found that the great beast, which must have stood up some seven feet, had now dropped on all fours and was in full chase. For choice Steve would have run toward his friends, but he had no option. The bear blocked the way in that direction; on his right there was the rapid rise of the mountain; on the left the ground was broken and boggy; before him the way open toward the mouth of the valley where they had left the boat, and naturally this way he ran, hoping that the bear would soon tire of the pursuit, and believing in his power to run more swiftly. The way was not good, for it was encumbered with blocks of stone that had fallen from above; but Steve felt that they must be as bad for the bear as for him, and he pressed on, taking off his bonnet to hold it in one hand as he ran. He glanced over his shoulder, and there was the bear appearing to shuffle along clumsily, but getting over the ground at a great rate of speed, which told the lad that he need do his best; but he consoled himself with the belief that, unless terribly hungry, the bear would not follow him for long; on the other hand, if famished, it would keep on and tire him out, and then-- Steve obstinately refused to let his imagination carry him any farther-- the thoughts were too horrible; and, mentally vowing that if he managed to get clear away he would never feel any compunction in helping to shoot a bear again, but would do his best to become the owner of its rich, whitish fur, he tore on as hard as he could go, fully conscious of the fact that the bear, though some yards behind, was determined to tire him out and run him down. The way now became more open, and as he raced on he just glanced at the opening to the narrow ravine on his right, for there was no temptation to leave the broad, open way for a stone-encumbered defile. No temptation then; but the next moment there was, for he was not far past enjoying the satisfaction of distancing his pursuer, when his heart sank, and a curdling sensation of horror so convulsed him that he dropped his cap, and pressed his hands to his throat; for there, fifty yards in front, and coming toward him, was a second bear, into whose jaws he was running hard. Danger behind, danger before, and between them death without mercy. There was only one way out of the peril, and that was to run back and turn up the narrow defile. It was a desperate venture, for the first bear was lumbering along and had nearly reached the turning; in fact, would have passed it before the boy could reach the haven of comparative safety if it had not stopped suddenly in surprise at seeing the quarry so suddenly turn round and seem to charge. Instead, then, of running to meet him, the bear suddenly raised itself up, and, with outstretched claws, awaited Steve's approach. It was all over in a moment or two: the boy had to go so close to the waiting bear that the beast struck at him with its right paw, and nearly touched the boy's shoulder; but the next instant he was beyond reach, and running up the defile. There was no bounding over the ground, though, here, for the place was, as has been shown, encumbered with fallen blocks; and Steve's heart, which the moment before rose with a leap at the way in which he had eluded the bears, sank once more like lead, for he knew enough of the natural history of these beasts and their construction to feel that, though they had left the ice for a prowl among the rocks, they would be thoroughly at home over such ground as he was traversing. "I've only put it off for a bit," he said to himself; "and they'll run me down." This thought only roused him. "They shan't find it an easy task, though," he muttered, and, forced as he was to slacken his speed, he had the satisfaction of seeing, on glancing back along the gloomy passage, that the bears were also compelled to slacken their pace and climb over intervening rocks as he had done. And it was plural, for the second one had joined the first, and they were coming steadily on, their light coats showing with terrible plainness in the gloom among the rocks. The breathless rush, then, was over; but the progress, though slow, was terribly hard work, and that which depressed the lad most was to see that the great brutes made no hurry or fuss over their pursuit, but came deliberately on, as if quite sure of the result, and prepared to follow even if it were for days. "And I thought it so glorious to be always daylight and sunshine," said Steve. Oh, if it would only come on now the blackest, darkest night ever known, so that he could take advantage of the many hiding-places he could see right and left, and crawl into one of them till the bears had passed! He looked back just as this idea crossed his mind, and once more a chill of dread came over him. For the defile was a little more open at the top just then, so that he could see the actions of the bears plainly as they came on some sixty yards behind; and he grasped the knowledge now that they were not hunting him by sight, but by scent, and that though, as a rule, they came along with their noses in the air, every now and then they lowered their muzzles and snuffled eagerly about some block of stone, uttering low, pig-like grunts. "Why, that's where my hot, moist hands touched," said Steve in dismay. "Darkness would be of no use if they hunt like that." For some minutes now the boy's legs felt heavy and began to drag, his breath came short, and the feeling of dread rose round him as if it were water in which he was about to drown. But this sensation did not last. A glance back showed that, if anything, he was farther in advance than before, and, taking heart at this, he pressed on, leaping little gaps, climbing over rocks, and descending at times to where the little stream trickled when the ground was more level. All this while the fugitive was conscious that he was ascending, the ravine being, as it were, a huge gash riven in the mountain-side. And this knowledge that he was ascending would have depressed his spirits once more had he not set his teeth and tried manfully to keep before him the one idea that he must and would escape. The depressing sensation was caused by the thought that sooner or later he would come to the end of the stones and rocks and reach the snow; then, higher up the mountain-side, come upon the ice itself, where the bears would be quite in their element and rapidly run him down. "But they have not done that yet," muttered Steve, as a look back reassured him; and he steadily went on walking and climbing. He knew that his friends must have reached the bottom of the coal cliff, and be wondering why he had run on. "They'll be sure to guess it was to light a fire," he said; but as he said it he wondered whether they would find the place he had chosen for the purpose. "Sure to," he thought; "and as the fire is not alight they will begin to hunt for me, and come to my help at last. Of course; they will very soon find my bonnet." But, even as he thought this, he recalled that it was not inside the mouth of the defile, but beyond; and his spirits sank again, for he thought out exactly what happened: that his friends would come some distance up the ravine in search of him, find no traces, and go back. Plenty of ideas suggestive of the means of escape flashed through the boy's brain as he toiled on. One was the possibility of climbing up some precipitous part of the gully as high as he could get, and seating himself there to wait until the bears were wearied out and left him. But he gave this idea up for more than one reason. The bears, he felt, would scent their way right up to the spot where he began to climb, and he might slip and fall headlong into their hungry jaws, to be literally chopped up between them as they would chop up a seal. Another reason was that the bears might, with all their deliberation of movement, prove to be far better climbers than he; and, in addition, supposing they were not, and he got into a safe spot where they could not reach him, might not they sit down patiently to wait, as wild beasts will for their food, till, chilled by the cold and utterly wearied out, he became an easy prey? That was one of the ideas on which he pondered as he climbed up higher and higher. The other was as to the possibility of his being able to reach the very top of the ravine, high up amongst the snow and ice, where it became blended with the mountain, and, having thus climbed high enough, begin to descend on the other side of the buttress naturally formed by one side of the gully. Then he would at every step be getting nearer and nearer to his friends, who must, he knew, be in search of him. This was the idea which gave him hope, and sent a thrill of fresh strength through his weary frame. A short time before he could only think of the certainty of the bears running him down at last in their untiring pursuit, as sooner or later, _if_ he were always getting farther from help, they were bound to do. Now he could climb on with a feeling that an end to his sufferings was in sight. And all this while--how long he could not tell--the bears came steadily on, never faster, never slower, always in the same steady, untiring manner, seeming to be perfectly certain of overtaking their prey after a time; but, as the slope began to grow more steep, so did the progress of pursued and pursuers become slow. As Steve climbed on, forced by the ruggedness of the path to use his hands more and more frequently, so did the wildness of the defile increase, till, after hours of toil, the patches of snow which he had long reached gave place to a slope of pure white crystals, into which his feet began to sink, making the labour of walking more heavy. On still, though, plod, plod, till the loose drift was passed as if in a nightmare, and he felt as if his legs were moving mechanically. How long this had been going on he could not tell, for at last the horror of the pursuit had numbed his brain, and he could not think of anything but that he must go on, and that at last he was out of the ravine and away to the right of the ridge, so that at any moment he might begin to descend and get down in another place. But he could not attempt to descend yet, but must keep on right up into the regions of this eternal snow, where all was silent--a silence which would have filled his mind with awe but for the stunned sensation of utter weariness. Still there was one flash of hope as he crept on, drawing himself over the ice crags on hands and knees. He had looked back below him at his pursuers, and his heart leaped, for there was only one. At first he could not believe it true, but a second look back confirmed the first impression. One of the bears had given up the pursuit; but the other was as persevering as ever. But it was hopeful, and gave Steve fresh energy; for if one was tired out, it was possible to weary the other. If he could have begun to descend, he would have done so now; but he dared not attempt it, for not only was the bear too close, but the steepness of the ascent had brought it right beneath him. And now, for the first time, the great animal seemed to see him, and increased its pace to such an extent that Steve felt all was over. He looked up, and the way was steeper, his only course being over an ice-covered face of rock far out of the perpendicular, but so smooth that the only way up was by taking advantage of the cracks and rifts which seamed it like a net. "My last chance," thought Steve, whose mind in this terrible emergency had suddenly grown clearer. He gave one glance below him, to see that the bear was not many yards away, and he could even see the gleam of its little, reddish-looking eyes. Then he buckled to at the climb, and got up foot by foot at a rate which surprised him. But the bear was as alert. When the lad was twenty or thirty feet up the animal had nearly reached the foot, and by the time the pursued had mounted another twenty feet the great brute was close up and raised itself on its hind quarters to mount. A cry that he could not suppress rose to Steve's lips, for, to his despair, his last hope died away. He had climbed on desperately, finding the ice-covered rock grow steeper and steeper, till, as he raised one foot to take the next step, there was no crevice or crack to give it hold, and it glided over the ice again and again. He reached to the left, but there was no handhold there. To the right it was the same, and--horror of horrors!--he knew now that he had clambered to a point which it was beyond human power to exceed, and this at a time when the bear was five-and-twenty feet below, and mounting fast. If he could reach that ledge just above him with his hands, he might draw himself up; but could he? There was only one way, by making a leap, and this with so little foothold. But a low growl decided him, and, pulling himself together, he stooped, and then sprang up with all his might. Hurrah! He reached the ledge with his crooked hands, and tried hard to drive his toes into the ice as he hung. But only for a few seconds. The sharp edge of the ledge was of ice of the most glassy nature, and Steve closed his eyes, for he had done all that mortal could do; his fingers glided over the angle to which they had for a moment or two clung, and then, as he drew himself up, he was falling like a ball, and as swift right on to the climbing bear. _ |
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