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<h3>Chapter Fifty One.</h3> <h4>Loosening the Stones.</h4> “Stop, Griggs!” cried Chris in a hoarse whisper, for he dared not shout; but it seemed as if their brave companion had not heard. One minute he was talking with them, the next he was gone, and had hardly made a sound. “Hah!” sighed the doctor. “Now it has come to the point I feel as if we have let the gallant fellow go straight to his death.” “Lee!” cried Bourne in a voice of anguish. “Don’t say that!” “I have said it,” said the doctor bitterly; “and now it is too late I feel that it is true. The whole business looks black, and as desperate as our mad search out here for the old golden city.” He ceased speaking, and Chris gripped Ned by the arm, for he shared his father’s feeling of despair. The silence was broken by Bourne. “It is too late to look back,” he said gravely. “We have made the venture, and must carry it out like men.” “Of course,” cried Wilton firmly. “Come, doctor, you are captain. I don’t call this square of you to put us all out of heart. This is making the worst of it, with a vengeance.” “Yes, it is—it is,” said the doctor quickly. “You must forgive me. Every man has his weak moments, and this was one of mine. I felt as if I had sacrificed the poor fellow to this desperate attempt to escape.” “Yes, father,” cried Chris bitterly. “It was my idea, and you ought to have let me go with him.” “Ha, ha!” laughed Wilton. “What are you laughing at?” cried Chris fiercely. “You—your words came in with such a droll ring in them. But there, we ought not to be talking now, but getting up into our hiding-places—eh, doctor?” “Yes,” was the sharp reply, “at once. You, Wilton, Bourne, and Ned. You, Chris, with me. Have you got the crowbar, my boy?” “Yes, father.” “You others have the tent-pitchers, and I the short pole. Take your places at once; lie right down among the bushes till you hear my whistle, and then up and send the big stones down with all your might.” No more was said, for not one present had the heart to speak. To Chris it was just as if he had said “Good-bye” to the American, who had gone straight to his death. “And he has gone thinking me queer and ungrateful,” the boy said to himself, “for not insisting upon going with him.” And even while stumbling up and up among the stones and bushes in the darkness to the spot which he was to occupy with his father, the boy could think of nothing else but the brave fellow going slowly along the lower part of the gulch in the black darkness, to wait until the morning came before starting boldly off into the open to meet the Indians. “It will mean arrows,” thought Chris. “He’ll be shot down somewhere out yonder, for it’s a mad trick, and can’t do him any good, nor yet us. Oh, I do wish I wasn’t such an idiot! So proud I was in my miserable conceit of having thought out a way to trap the Indians, and a nice mess I’ve made—sent the best friend I ever had to certain death.” “What are you thinking about, Chris?” said the doctor at that moment. “Thinking about, father?” faltered the boy. “Yes; you have turned so quiet.” “I was thinking about poor Griggs, father, and feeling afraid that he’ll never come back.” “Then don’t think any more of such things. We none of us know. Wait and see. Now then, how long shall we have to wait before we see our brave fellow come along hunted by the enemy?” “Don’t ask me, father.” “Why not? How far are we off the morning?” “Hours.” “No; I think not. I dare say we shall be having the day break within one hour, then the exciting time will begin.” “Do you think we shall see Griggs again?” “Oh yes, of course. He’s a fleet runner, and I shouldn’t be a bit surprised to see him come tearing along with a band of mounted Indians at his back.” “Do you really think so, father, or is this only to encourage me?” “Both, my boy. Come, keep a good heart. I shall be glad when the day comes—shan’t you?” “Yes, father. But do you think the ponies and mules will stray away?” “I hope not, my boy. Oh no, it’s not likely. Cheer up; we shall do it, never fear.” Chris heaved a big sigh. “Why, hullo, my boy! Do you call this cheering up?” said the doctor. “Yes, father. That was only the melancholy being driven off,” said Chris with a forced laugh. “I’m going to be cheerful enough, and shoot straight when the Indians come. I’m sorry for them, but I must, for everybody’s sake.” “Yes, to be sure, for everybody’s sake. Feel better?” “Yes, father.” “That’s right. I was low-spirited, too, a little while ago, for I felt doubtful of success. I don’t now. Yours was a splendid idea, and unless something unfortunate occurs we shall succeed.” “I hope we shall,” thought Chris, but he felt doleful in the extreme, and the idea would force itself upon him that he had sent his old friend to a cruel death. At last the various objects around seemed to grow plain as the grey dawn began to lighten the sky; but the place looked terrible in the ghastly light. There beneath them was what looked like a black chasm, the one they were to fill up with stones from the jagged shelves upon which they crouched nearly a hundred feet higher, while higher still, right up for another three hundred feet or more, to where the saw-like edge was marked clearly against the ever-lightening sky, wherever the boy’s eyes rested there were masses of stone which looked as if a touch would set them in motion and start others to come thundering down, sweeping all before them into a vast heap which would fill up the chasm, even as high as the rocks amongst which his party was hidden. The time had come for hiding, and Chris and his father were soon lying down behind some stunted bushes through which they could peer right along the bottom of the gulch far away towards where the side gully ran up in the direction of the tableland in which the great valley with its rock city was cut. Thoughts began to come fast now through Chris’s brain, and the first were in connection with the mules and ponies they had left to graze up to the right of the gully. Would they stay there peacefully browsing on the green shoots of the shrubs that were abundant, or come wandering down to reach their old pasture? The question was open to many doubtful answers which did not come, and they had to give way to thoughts connected with Griggs, who, the boy felt, must by this time be astir with his gun. And with what result? None for a long, long time, during which the sun as it rose had chased away the horrors that had lingered in the gulch, to display all its wondrous glories of light and shade with trickling falls and clumps of dripping lace-like fern. Everything was so beautiful in the sunshine that Chris found himself wondering how it could have been so dismal in the gloom. He turned to look across to where his friends were hidden, but they were concealed too well; nothing was visible but the great blocks of stone waiting to be levered to the edge of the shelf and sent thundering down; so turning his eyes from there, the lad gazed along the gulch again in the direction of the side gully and the open land beyond, where in all probability Griggs was now wandering in his fictitious search for game. Two hours of patient waiting since sunrise, which had given place to painful excitement. Doubt was busy, too, in every brain, for it began to seem as if something had gone wrong, and the intense desire was attacking Chris to get down from his hiding-place and go in search of his friend. But the orders were to lie still in hiding until the doctor gave the signal with his whistle, and knowing full well that the slightest suggestion of an ambush meant ruin to the plan, Chris forced himself to lie motionless, gazing with aching eyeballs along the gulch for the sight of the figure that as the time went on seemed as if it would never appear. Another hour, the most hopeless of all, the most wearisome and full of pain, for with the sun getting higher the rays were reflected from the rock-face till the place grew unbearably hot, with the consequence that thirst began to parch the watcher’s throat. He was growing faint, too, for want of food, and though he had an ample supply in his wallet he did not dare to begin eating for fear that something might happen, some sudden call be made upon his energies. “If I could only get up and move about,” thought Chris. But he glanced round, and no one else was stirring, while his father crouched there so severe and stern of aspect that for the moment Chris forgot his own troubles and thought of those of others. “Father’s feeling it all horribly,” thought the boy. “But poor old Griggs! We ought never to have let him go.” What was that? Chris strained his ears and gazed upward wildly, for high in front, nearly four hundred feet above the bottom of the gully, there was the sound of galloping horses. The boy shook himself and stared, asking himself if he were mad or dreaming. For the rocks up there were more than perpendicular, they leaned right over, and it was absurd to think that horses were galloping there. They could not be. They were not, for they were on the other side of the gulch now, higher still. “It’s the heat,” said Chris with a sigh. “I’m giddy, I suppose.” “Hist!” The warning word came from his father, and a thrill of excitement ran through the boy as he felt that it was no fancy but the echoing of galloping horses to which he was listening, while the next minute as the reverberation grew louder, a spasm, half joy, half fear, ran through him as, like a flash, the familiar figure of the American glanced in the sunshine, disappeared in the shade, and came into sight again, with head down, fists doubled and held close to his breast, as he came running rapidly along the bottom of the gulch. The next minute he had reached the narrow chasm above which Chris and his friends lay waiting, disappeared, and the inclination that nearly carried Chris away was to spring up, shout words of encouragement, and then clamber to where he could follow the swift runner with his eyes till he went out of sight at some turn of the gulch on his way to the valley. But the orders were to lie close till the whistle rang out, and like the rest, who were influenced by the same feeling, Chris crouched lower to gaze right away in the old direction, listening with straining nerves to the ever-nearing echoing beat of horses’ hoofs, till about a couple of hundred yards away a mounted Indian, bow and arrow in one hand, rein in the other, bounded into sight, urging on his pony with voice and hand. “Will he know that it is a trap?” thought Chris, and he fully expected to see the man draw rein, send an arrow amongst the hiding party, and gallop off. But even as the thought ran through the lad’s brain the savage reached the narrow gap and dashed through. By this time two more were close behind, a party of four some fifty yards in the rear, all galloping hard, eager to overtake the fugitive, while as they passed through at full gallop the echoes of the hoofs increased, for a mob of about thirty came into sight, all tearing along as in a race, and passed through the gap. “Right into the trap!” thought Chris, whose pulses literally bounded with the excitement of the scene that had passed beneath his feet. “We’ve got them!” he panted. “Now, father, the stones!” But it was beneath his breath that the words came, and his face flushed and his eyes dilated, for as the echoing of the horses’ hoofs began to die out behind it grew louder in front, and another troop of the enemy came into sight, tearing along after their leaders, to dash through the gap in ones and twos, trailing along till the last had disappeared. “That must be all,” panted Chris to himself; but he was wrong; the echoes of the rocky walls had not ceased, though greatly softened down, for two dozen more of the savages came tearing along like a rearguard to pass through, and even then more were to come, for a couple raced up, shouting at and beating the flanks of their ponies angrily, as if in fear of being left quite behind. “The last!” thought Chris, now wild with excitement, for the reverberations had ceased in front, were dying out behind, and then all was still for a few moments, before out of the utter silence came the soft piping sound of a whistle. “Hurrah!” cried Chris, for he felt that he must get rid of the breath that literally burned in his chest as he sprang up. Then crash, splinter, and shiver came from below as the doctor forced the first block to the edge of the shelf where the opening was most narrow. This was almost accompanied by another shivering crash, repeated both from the walls of the gulch like so much smothered thunder. “Now for it!” panted Chris, as he caught sight of Ned bending down to roll a great block far too big for him over and over. But the one he was himself handling was as big, and Ned, who was not ten yards away from him, laughed mockingly as he got his block to the edge first and sent it down with a crash. But the noise made by the one sent after it by Chris formed as it were an echo, and he stood for a few moments gazing down in wonder, for huge pieces had been forced off the shelf by Wilton and Bourne, to lie gathered so closely together that already the way was blocked sufficiently to make it impossible for any horse to pass unless at a flying leap, for which there was neither take-off nor landing at the end. “Don’t shout. Don’t cheer,” panted the doctor. “Work steadily and well, and we shall soon have them fast.” “I hope there are no more to come and have us,” panted Wilton as he slaved away, making Chris and Ned both glance excitedly away through the gulch towards where the gully struck off. But the enemy seemed to be all within the trap, and the stones were forced down till nearly all available on the shelves had been sent thundering down, and both parties climbed some fifty feet higher before they continued the work, beginning with the highest blocks that were loose, and having the satisfaction of seeing the heaviest block there, which took two or three to move it, go roaring down, sweeping with it others nearly as big. They worked for fully half-an-hour, to look down at last in wonder to see the great success of their work, the gap being piled high, and, leaving horses out of the question, forming a barrier that it would be hard work for an active man to climb. “Stop now,” said the doctor, and all gladly rested, to stand wiping the perspiration from their streaming faces. “No horses can possibly pass by here.” “Mind! Quick! Down with you!” shouted Wilton, and as he spoke an arrow struck against the rocky wall close to his head and glanced off, to fly far away along the gulch. <hr /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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