Dick Travers dropped his gun and frantically1 seized a stout2 sapling which grew close to the edge. A cry of horror escaped his lips, as it began to bend beneath his weight, and his hands to glide3 over the slippery surface.
"Dave—Bob!" he yelled, despairingly. "Help!"
Through the crevice4, narrow as it was, came a patch of light. He turned his head, to shut out the view of the awful chasm5 below, but in even that quick glance the jutting6 crags and great boulders7 strewn about the base were indelibly fixed8 upon his memory.
The sapling was still bending, but with the grip of despair he clung to it, fearing each instant to hear the fatal snap.
Then his dangling10 feet bumped against the face of the cliff and struck a projection11. Daring to look down again, he saw a ledge12 about a foot wide, and hope sprang within him.
A crashing through the underbrush sounded from above and three pale faces were gazing into his own.
"We'll save you," cried Dave Brandon. "Courage, old man!"
"Hurry," gasped Dick. Drops of perspiration13 stood out on his forehead, but Dave's voice cheered him.
Bob Somers had implicit15 confidence in Dave Brandon, and asked no questions. In a moment the noose was slipped over his sturdy shoulders and under his arms.
"Now pass the end around that tree," instructed Dave, hurriedly. "Hang on to it, Bob. Here, Jim, grab hold of my legs, and don't let go."
"Hurry up, fellows," came a cry from below.
"Courage, old boy," sang out Bob. "We're coming."
Dave threw himself flat on the ground and worked his way to the edge of the opening, then leaned far over.
"I've got you, Brandon," he said grimly.
Farther and farther Dave stretched over. He paid no heed17 to the yawning depths. All he saw was Dick Travers' fear-stricken face just below.
A few inches more, and the "poet's" strong hands closed with a vise-like grip over his fellow Rambler's wrist.
"Keep a tight grip on the sapling, Dick," he commanded, in a tense voice, and the other obeyed.
It was a thrilling moment for all. But Dave's strength was equal to the emergency. With a mighty18 effort, he began to work his way back inch by inch.
Bob Somers, after fastening the rope securely, sprang forward. No words were spoken. Dave Brandon grunted20 and groaned21, while the perspiration rolled off his round face.
Presently Bob Somers leaned over and grabbed Dick Travers' left arm. Up, up came the dangling form.
"Now, Havens, pull for all you are worth," panted Dave. "Pull like the dickens," and Jim bent22 all his strength to the task.
Another instant, and Dick was seized by the waistband and dragged over the edge to safety.
It would be hard to give an idea of the thankfulness that was in the hearts of all. For several moments, Dick Travers lay without speaking. The shock had been a severe one.
"Look before you leap next time, Dick," observed Jim Havens. "Lots of dangerous places around these mountains."
"You bet I will. Crickets! It was awful to hang over that chasm. I felt sure the sapling was going to snap," and Dick shuddered24 at the thought.
Still puffing25 and blowing, Dave Brandon was busy wiping his perspiring26 face, while he lay at full length on the ground.
None of them felt quite in the mood for hunting, and the stout boy finally proposed that they return to the dugout.
"I need a good, square meal," he said.
Tired and hungry, they finally pushed through the last belt of timber, and came in view of the dugout.
"Well, well, who in the world is that?" exclaimed Bob Somers in surprise, as he observed a figure sitting on a log before the entrance, calmly smoking a big pipe.
"By the flying partridge, a visitor out here," laughed Dave.
"Didn't know we had any neighbors in this block," said Dick.
"Think I know that feller," put in Havens. "Looks like Hank Merwin, the trapper."
The visitor did not arise as the boys approached. He was evidently a very tall, raw-boned man, and his face was bronzed to almost the color of an Indian's. He rested a Winchester rifle across his knees, and fastened to his belt was a holster containing a huge Colt revolver.
He looked impassively at the campers, then drawled, slowly, "Wal, young uns, arternoon!"
"Hello, Hank!" greeted Jim, familiarly. "These are some friends of mine out hunting and fishing. Speak your names, fellows."
Hank Merwin listened calmly. His face was as expressionless as a wooden Indian's.
"Huntin' an' fishin', eh? Wal, I happened along this way, and I sees that some one was a-usin' the dugout, so I stays."
"Glad you did, Hank," said Jim, cordially. "Grub with us to-night."
"Don't mind if I do."
When everything was under way, Dick Travers brought out his camera.
"As long as we have a real trapper here," he announced, "I'm going to take a picture of the whole crowd."
"Knew a feller oncet who had one of them jiggers," observed Hank, slowly. "I never had no picter of myself."
"Well, I'll give you one of these," said Dick. "Step this way, gentlemen, and get your phizzes taken. Get up, Dave. Stay right where you are, Hank."
He stepped back, while the others ranged themselves around. There was a sharp click, and Dick announced that it was all over.
"I'm going to take some wild animals with this, Hank," he said.
"Wild critters, eh, lad?"
Hank's gray eyes rested on the youthful photographer. Then he gazed reflectively at the rings of smoke again.
"Mebbe I kin23 help ye," he said, kindly28. "Kin ye take one of them picters at night—by jacklight?"
"By jacklight?" questioned Dick, in puzzled tones.
"Sartingly! But perhaps you never hearn tell of it?"
"Hank often goes out hunting by jacklight," interposed Havens. "He has a lamp in front of his boat, and a reflector sends the light an awful way ahead. Well—moose and deer are fond of feeding on lily-pads and grasses near the shore, and every once in a while he runs across 'em."
"Should think they would scoot away like sixty," said Dick.
"They don't. The light sort of blinds them and they can't see the hunter."
"Wal, lad," continued Hank Merwin, "kin ye take a picter by that 'ere light?"
"You just bet I can," cried the official photographer, enthusiastically. "I've got a lot of flashlight powder, and it will be as easy as rolling off a log. Thanks awfully29, Hank. Snap-shots by jacklight sounds fine, eh, Bob?"
"Right you are."
"Wal, whenever you takes the notion, look me up," said Hank, "but you'd best wait 'til thar ain't no moon."
After supper, sitting before a pleasant fire, Hank Merwin, who had taken a great fancy to the boys, related many thrilling incidents in his life as a trapper. The moon rose above the belt of timber, enveloping31 the landscape in its pale greenish light; the whispering breeze brought with it many strange sounds from the forest, and, as the fire crackled and glowed, sending up showers of dancing sparks, the boys were more and more charmed with life in the open.
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1
frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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glide
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| n./v.溜，滑行；(时间)消逝 | |
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crevice
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| n.(岩石、墙等)裂缝；缺口 | |
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chasm
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| n.深坑，断层，裂口，大分岐，利害冲突 | |
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jutting
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| v.（使）突出( jut的现在分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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boulders
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| n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 )；巨砾；（受水或天气侵蚀而成的）巨石；漂砾 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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projection
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| n.发射，计划，突出部分 | |
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ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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noose
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| n.绳套，绞索（刑）；v.用套索捉；使落入圈套；处以绞刑 | |
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implicit
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| a.暗示的，含蓄的，不明晰的，绝对的 | |
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havens
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| n.港口，安全地方( haven的名词复数 )v.港口，安全地方( haven的第三人称单数 ) | |
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heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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perspiring
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| v.出汗，流汗( perspire的现在分词 ) | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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enveloping
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的现在分词 ) | |
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