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<h2 class="newchapter">XXVIII A DISSOLVING PICTURE</h2> After a time Deering stopped and looked about. The stones on the river bank were large and sharp, the night was dark, and his load embarrassed him. In the distance, he saw a small red fire; a dim light marked the post office, and the reflections from the blast-lamp quivered behind the trees. Deering got his breath and braced up. Born in the bush, he had known poverty and stern physical toil. He was a good mountaineer, but he admitted that his two hundred pounds was something of a load to carry across icy rocks. Then he had, for the most part, lived extravagantly at fashionable hotels, and his big muscles were soft; but this was not all. The distant lights stood for human society and civilization. Deering was very human and fought against an atavistic shrinking from the dark and loneliness. Moreover, he knew the wilds. For all that, he meant to conquer his shrinking. He admitted that he was perhaps a romantic sentimentalist and his adventure did not harmonize with his occupation. Sometimes, however, one was not logical and not long since he would have plunged down the rocks but for Jimmy's pluck. Besides he saw Stannard had used him to entangle the lad. Deering had his rude code, but Stannard had none. He was cold and calculating, and Deering thought he meant to carry out the plan he tried before when he sent Jimmy over the neck. Although Deering did not like the job, he meant to baffle him. In the meantime, all was quiet but for the turmoil of the river a few yards off. Dark pines occupied the narrow level belt by the track, and on the other side vague blurred rocks went up. Thin mist drifted about, and the line, running downhill, melted into the gloom. The trooper was at the station and Deering imagined nobody was about. "The stones are sharp and slippery," he said. "We'll take the track and push on for the section-hut." They got on the line, but did not progress fast. The gravel ballast was large and hurt their feet; the ties were not evenly spaced. Sometimes Deering stepped on the timber and sometimes on the loose stones. Then numerous ravines pierced the rocks, and although the construction gangs had begun to fill up the chasms, for the most part wooden trestles spanned the gaps. To cross an open-work trestle in the dark is awkward, and when Deering balanced on a narrow tie and looked for the next, he sweated and breathed hard. On one trestle he stopped. Sixty feet below him, he saw the foam of an angry torrent; the next tie was some distance off, and the wood sparkled with frost. In a sense, his adventure was ridiculous. When he used the railroad he went on board a first-class car and checked his baggage. Now he stumbled over the ballast and carried on his back all he could not go without. In the meantime, however, he must cross the trestle, and he trusted his luck and jumped. He got across and after three or four hours they reached the section-shack. Graham was in bed, but he got up and told them all they wanted to know. Three policemen with an Indian and a pack-horse had come down the track and Graham imagined they had found the entrance to Jimmy's valley. He reckoned they would send back the Indian and the horse when they took the rocks, but the fellow had not yet returned. Peter was puzzled about the Indian. "They didn't hire him up at the station," he remarked. "Looks as if they'd fixed it for him to meet them." "It looks as if they'd made their plans and their plans were pretty good," said Deering. "However, since they've got a loaded horse, they can't shove on fast. How long was the other outfit in front?" Graham told him and for a few moments Deering pondered. Then he said, "It's awkward! Stannard knows where Jimmy is, and he'll hit up the pace. I reckon the police don't know and must look for his tracks. If we hustle, we'll run up against the gang." The difficulty was obvious and Peter frowned. "We might get by their camp in the dark. We'd see the fire." "I doubt," Deering rejoined. "If the boys make a fire, they'll make it where the light is hid. They don't want to put Jimmy wise." "Well?" said Peter. "What is your plan?" Deering laughed, a noisy laugh, for now he had started, his hesitation vanished. "We'll trust our luck and shove ahead. In the morning we'll get up the rocks and look about. I've brought my glasses. Let's get going." Graham gave them directions and when they climbed a steep hill they found the valley. The ground was broken and in places covered by tangled brush, but they made progress and at daybreak labored across the snow to the top of a spur. Deering sat on his pack and used his prismatic glasses. Gray cloud floated about the mountain slopes, but the high peaks were sharp and began to shine in the rising sun. Some were rose-pink and some were yellow; the hollows between their broken tops were gray and blue. A map of the mountains occupied a wall of the hotel rotunda, and Deering, using his glasses, imagined it roughly accurate. "I expect the blue gap is the head of the valley," he remarked and when Peter nodded resumed: "We'll allow Stannard joined Jimmy ahead of the police and took him along. We have got to hit their line and this is not as hard as it looks. They can't steer for the shoulder of the big peak; the rocks won't go and I see an ugly ice-fall on the glacier. I reckon I'd head back, obliquely, for the col, up the long arrête." "I don't use no habitant French," Peter observed. "Oh, well. Our clubmen have begun to use the tourists' talk," said Deering and gave Peter the glasses. "Anyway, you see the ridge that runs up to the neck?" 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 glasses. 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 glasses 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 buttress, 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 buttresses supported the terraces, and, for the most part, the stones were free from snow; Deering knew this indicated a very steep pitch. One buttress was marked by a broad white band, and when he rubbed the glasses 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 glasses. "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 glasses. 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 anchored 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 glasses 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 glasses and went for his pack. The mist was not thick and he knew his line to the buttress. "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. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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