Chapter 26. A Difficult Path

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_ CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. A DIFFICULT PATH

One day seemed so much like another that we soon lost count of time, as we followed the windings and turns of the river, the beauty of the deep ravines that struck into the valley, each with its little fall or torrent, and the glimpses we kept getting of snow-tipped mountains, keeping off the weariness we might have felt in some open monotonous land.

Every now and then Quong settled down to wash the sands and gravel of the little streams that came tumbling down from the heights; and I saw that Gunson took a good deal of interest in his proceedings; but in spite of Quong's patient endeavours his efforts were always barren, or resulted in the discovery of some tiny speck, which was added to the others in the phial so slowly that, as Gunson laughingly said, it seemed likely to take a year to build up enough gold to make a sovereign.

"The gold is nearer the mountains if there is any, Gordon," he said to me, "and it is impossible to search down here. We must go higher up before I begin after Quong has left us, for I expect that as soon as we get to a spot where he can wash out a scale or two with every pan of sand, he will bid us good-bye."

But as the days went on that time did not arrive. The Chinaman did not seem to think anything about pay for his services, but was delighted to perform them for the sake of the protection of travelling with us, and a share of the food we provided.

So far our journey had been glorious. There had been plenty of hard work, forcing our way through bushes, climbing fallen trees, some so rotten that they crumbled to dust with our weight, and threading our way among rocks; but at every turn there was the grand river foaming and rushing down toward the sea, and masses of black-green forest with pines spiring up toward the sky. One morning as we toiled slowly on, it was very evident that the river was narrowing, and the sides growing steeper. We had often been at some height above it, but always on a slope, where, with a little scheming, we could have got down to the water; but now a sheer wall of rock rose up forty or fifty feet on either side, and below it, looking black and deep, the river swirled and eddied along.

There was hardly a vestige of a trail here, the ground being too stony to leave any traces; but the great stream was our guide, and we climbed and stumbled on, Quong in front bending down under his load, and always patient, calm, and smiling, as if it was quite natural to him to be doubled up under a big bundle which went along in front of us like some curious blanket-clothed creature with thin blue legs.

All at once the rough stony slope of the valley dived down, and Quong, who had just given his load a hitch up on his shoulders, disappeared. I was next, for Gunson had stepped back to take off one of his boots, with Esau holding his pack; and I had reached the spot where I had seen Quong last, prepared for a jump down on to a lower part or ledge of the valley slope, when I found myself face to face with the little fellow, and saw that he had dropped his bundle, and was hurrying back.

As soon as we met, he made a sign for me to be silent, and turned and pointed toward a clump of young firs. I could see no danger, and I whispered to him the one word "Bear?"

He shook his head, and pointed again, when, to my utter astonishment, the green boughs were parted, as there was a flash of silver, and a great salmon fell about a couple of yards away, to begin beating heavily with its tail, and flapping from side to side.

I knew that these fish leaped, and I had heard that some of their bounds up cascades were tremendous, but I had never known that a salmon could spring fifty feet up out of the water over the top of the rocky wall which formed the river-bank, and away through a screen of young firs. There, however, was the fact before me, and with delightful visions of broiled salmon before my eyes, I dropped my pack and ran forward to secure the prize before it should take it into its head to make another gymnastic leap into the water.

It was a splendid fellow, a full yard long, its scales silvery blue and pearly in the morning sunshine, and regardless of wet and slime, I dropped on my knees.

"Oh, you beauty!" I exclaimed, and I raised it by the gills, and-- dropped it directly, and remained as if turned to stone, gazing in a hideous, painted red face, which had been thrust out between the boughs of the firs, and stared as wildly at me as I at its owner.

For a few moments I forgot that I had friends behind, and rested there quite still with what seemed to me a terrible silence all around, till it was broken by the salmon throwing itself over, and giving the stones upon which it lay a resounding flap.

I fully expected to see the arm belonging to the head thrust out with a knife in the fist; and when it was darted out from among the bushes, my own hand went involuntarily to the pistol I carried, but I dropped it again as I saw that it was only an open palm extended toward me, and I placed mine therein for a friendly shake, my heart beating less heavily.

Then the hand was withdrawn, the salmon pushed toward me, and the hand held out again.

"Hallo!" cried a voice, which made me glow with satisfaction. "Been fishing, Gordon?"

Gunson strode up to us, and seeing the situation at a glance, he took out his tobacco-pouch, opened it, pinched out a piece, and pointing to the salmon, offered the cut-up herb to the Indian, who now stood out in front of the young pines. I thought it ridiculous to offer what I considered a pinch of rubbish for the salmon; but the Indian laughed, darted back, and returned holding another quivering fish by the tail, threw it down, and held out his hand for the tobacco, evidently well pleased with his bargain.

"Fish is cheap out here," said Gunson, laughing. "Here, Quong, one to cook and one to dry."

Our Celestial friend literally pounced upon the two salmon as prizes as soon as he saw that there was no danger, and set to work cleaning and splitting the fish, lightening them by getting rid of head and tail, and then cutting some splints of wood to keep one well open for drying in the sun and for easy carriage.

"There is nothing to mind," said Gunson. "It is only a fishing party;" and leading the way through the line of young firs, which acted as a screen, we came upon a group of Indians, two men and four women, all busy cleaning and splitting the fish which another man kept hauling up from the river in a rough net.

It seemed a very primitive way of fishing, and we stood looking on and examining some of the salmon hung to dry upon several roughly rigged up poles, before we went to the edge of the shelf upon which all this was going on, to find straight below us the other Indian standing upon a rough platform, made by driving a couple of stout poles into the wall of rock at a fissure, and throwing a few branches across. This man had a coarse net on a ring at the end of a long, stout pole, and watching his opportunity as the fish came rapidly up the rushing water, he plunged the net down, and brought it up with a gasping, struggling salmon. This was transferred to a hanging basket, and hauled up by the Indian at the edge, and carried to the party who were preparing and drying them in the sun for their winter store.

It was all ridiculously easy. The Indian had only to keep on dipping out fish as fast as they could be prepared, and what I saw quite removed any ideas of our taking advantage of the man who had let the fish he carried slip out of his basket, so that it came with a dart to my side of the screen of firs.

"That's an easy way of getting a living," said Esau, as we parted in a friendly way from the Indians, who stared at us in a very heavy, stolid way. "I think I should like to try that."

"For how long?" cried Gunson, with a laugh. "Why, my good fellow, you'd be tired of catching the fish in a week, and more tired of eating them in a fortnight."

"Tired?--of eating salmon?" said Esau, laughing. "Oh, you don't know me. I had some once, and it was lovely."

"Well, we'll try one of ours when we stop for dinner," said Gunson; "but we must do a good morning's tramp first."

That good morning's tramp did not seem to progress much, for the way grew more and more difficult, and it was once taken into consideration whether we had not better strike in away from the river; and we should have adopted this course but for the fear of losing ourselves in the labyrinth of mountains to the north and east, and not being able to strike the stream again.

"You see, hard as the way is, it is sure," said Gunson; "and as your goal and mine too are on the upper waters of the river, we had better keep to it."

It was getting toward midday, and the sun shone forth with such power that we felt the little air there was come down the valley like the breath of an oven, and we should have decided to stop at once, cook our dinner, and rest, but for the fact that there was neither wood nor shade. For we had quite left the patches of forest behind at this point, and were tramping slowly over a bare sterile region of the most forbidding character, low down by the river. Higher up where we could not climb the tall trees again appeared, and every ledge and slope was crowned with dwarf pine, fern, and moss.

"We had better keep on past that bare slope," said Gunson. "I can see trees on beyond it. It looks green, too, as if there was water."

Of course we agreed, for there was not a sign of water where we stood, and thirst was beginning to trouble us all.

So we tramped on, Gunson now leading, and the rushing sound of the river below the wall of rock sounding very tantalising as we grew hotter still, and the heat began to be reflected from the stones in a most unpleasant way. It would have been bad enough for the unladen, but for people burdened as we were it was hard work indeed.

At the end of half an hour the river, which had been hidden from us save when we went close to the edge and looked down, came into view again, for the character of the valley had suddenly changed. We found now that there was the steep slope from high up the mountain to the level of the water, which roared and surged along, and swept away the thin pieces of slaty stone which formed the slope--a clatter-slide, as west-country people would call it. These pieces were all loose and extremely unpleasant to walk upon, being shaley fragments of all sizes, from that of a child's hand up to thin fragments a foot or two across.

The heat here was tremendous, and as we walked the stones gave way beneath our feet, and began setting in motion little stony avalanches, which kept on gliding down till the whole of the slope seemed to be running into the river. No one talked, but strode on, not planting his feet in the footsteps of him who had gone before, but avoiding them, for they formed the centres of so much loose stuff ready to give way at a touch.

We got along over about half a mile of this, and then paused on a bit of a shelf to rest, for about a quarter of a mile farther we saw our resting-place; the clatter ceasing, to give way to verdure with plenty of trees, and in their midst, temptingly beckoning us to fresh exertions, there was the water we needed--a beautiful filmy veil, floating down from hundreds of feet up, arched by a hopeful rainbow, and anon gliding softly like a shower of silver rockets down behind the tall green firs.

We knew that there would be a beautiful pool of water at the foot of that cascade, with green, mossy grass, and plenty of pine-boughs for our fire and to shade us from the scorching sun; and toward this enviable spot we pressed on, with the slope growing steeper and steeper, till at last we paused again for Gunson to investigate.

It was time. For the past five minutes the slide had kept running so much toward the perpendicular, that at every step we loosened stones which began to tear down toward the river, and necessitated leaps and quick plunges to keep us from being carried with them, while a slip would have meant a headlong fall, increasing in speed till the unfortunate was plunged into the foaming torrent which poured down, and would have swept him instantly away.

"Watch how I go," said Gunson. "Keep cool, and don't think of falling. I know it is a hard bit to get over, but it is not above a couple of hundred yards where it is so bad; after that it grows better and better, till you reach the trees. Now then, all stand still while I go first."

He tightened his pack over his shoulder, took a good grip of the rifle, stood for a moment, and then strode forward, going diagonally, as if to reach the top of the slope.

This seemed for the moment unnecessary, and likely to make the journey longer, but I soon saw that it was properly calculated, for as the stones kept on sliding beneath his feet as he struggled upward, he was constantly being brought down to the level of where we stood, perspiring profusely, and fascinated by the peril of the task.

It was only now that I fully realised how steep the side of the valley was, and that a fall must end in the river among the black craggy rocks which stood up so threateningly amongst the white foam.

He went steadily on, and as I stood there I felt, to use the common saying, as if my heart was in my mouth. A dozen terrible thoughts flashed through my mind:--what should we do if he fell and was swept away? It would be impossible to save him; and as to his own powers, I did not believe that any man could battle with that terrible torrent-like river, which would sweep him down, dashing him from rock to rock, till he was carried from our sight, leaving us alone in our despair to try some other way.

The thoughts were paralysing as they came with lightning-like rapidity, for now it was dawning upon me, that shocking as it would be to see my fellow-creature hurled to death like that, somehow Gunson, that rough, stern, disfigured man, had made a kind of impression upon me--that there existed a tie between us. I don't think I liked him, but I felt at that moment as if I would have given anything to have been by his side, as I saw him totter, slip, recover himself, slip again, and begin gliding down fast, but always preserving his perpendicular.

"He's gone," I said aloud; but as the words left my lips he made two or three bounds, sending the stones rushing down heavily, as he regained his old level and went on rapidly. Onward still, but what a length that seemed!--and now I was learning from his progress that the only chance of getting across was to keep right on, exercising all the strength of nerve and muscle one possessed to go forward, for to have stood still meant to begin gliding rapidly downward, sinking more and more in a gathering avalanche of stones as others were loosened from above to fill up the vacancy that was made.

Two-thirds--three-quarters of the way across--and once more he began to slide, but with desperate energy he went on by leaps and bounds now, and we set up a hoarse cheer as we saw him reach firm ground--a cheer which did not reach him, for the whole side of the slide seemed to be in motion, and as I saw him throw himself down, there was a curious rushing, rattling roar, as if fragments of ice were formed on the surface of a torrent and were rushing down into the river.

It was very evident that Gunson was exhausted by his tremendous efforts, for he lay on the rocks, motioning to us with his hand not to come, and we stood looking from one to the other, mutely inquiring what was to be done next. At last he rose, unfastened his pack, threw it down behind him, and came close to the edge of the slide, to look up and about with his eyes sheltered, as if seeking for a better place for us to cross.

I did the same, gazing high up to where the stones grew smaller, and then right down to where the flat, thin fragments plunged into the running river, to be swept away; but, like Gunson, I could see no better place.

By degrees, though, the fluttering, rattling glide ceased, and the slope looked level once more, and then Gunson put his hands to his mouth and shouted--

"Can you hear what I say?"

"Yes."

"Take your packs on your heads, and when you start keep right on; never hesitate; I'll be ready to help."

We heard every word distinctly, and it sounded curiously like a whisper that ran along the surface of the stones; and when he had ended, Quong looked at me sharply with his little black eyes.

"Me go long nex'," he said; and as I nodded, he balanced his great pack deftly on his head, paused for a few moments to get it quite satisfactory, and then stretching out his arms like one who walks along a pole, he started off, while so steep was the slope that his extended fingers nearly touched the stones as he went along.

The little fellow was so light, so steady and clever, that he tripped forward without dislodging anything like the amount of stones that Gunson had set running. But I could see that the effort needed was terrible as he went on and on, increasing his speed now, slowing then, and getting more and more over with far less effort, and giving us no end of encouragement, as he at length reached the rocks, tumbled the load off his head--the load which had never seemed once to lose its poise--and finally we could see him seated facing us wiping his hot face with the front of his blouse.

"He's got over," said Esau, hoarsely.

"Yes," I said, in the same husky tones.

"One of us has got to go next."

"Yes," I said. "Who shall go?"

"Wish I'd got a good pole with a spike at the end," said Esau.

"So do I."

"Or I wouldn't mind if it was only a clothes-prop."

"But we have neither, Esau."

"Well, don't I know we haven't? What's the good o' being so aggravating, and keeping on saying we ain't--we ain't? Lots o' beautiful trees behind us to cut clothes-props to last all Camberwell for life, and there's lots over there in front, but they don't bring us one. It's always the way. There's lots o' money in the Bank o' England, but we couldn't get it to come out here."

"Don't be unreasonable," I said, and I gave quite a start as a stone from above came rattling down.

"Who's unreasonable?" grumbled Esau; "I ain't: only a bit wild at having to go across that precious bit o' solid slide. What do you think my mother would say if she saw me coming here and going to start over that place? Why, it would kill her."

"It does look dangerous," I said, sadly.

"Look! Why, it is. It's horrid."

"But they've got over safely."

"That don't mean I shall. Oh dear, oh dear! This comes o' picking up strange friends, and letting 'em lead us into difficulties. And not so much as a walking-stick to help us."

I was in no humour to argue, with the perilous crossing before me, so I remained silent.

"I said--and not so much as a walking-stick to help us."

"Yes, Esau, I heard you."

"Then why don't you say something?"

"What can I say? Only be plucky and go."

"There you go again! Oh, it does aggravate me. Now you want me to go off first."

"No; I'll go first if you like; but I should like to see you safe over."

"That's just what I feel about you. I say--if I fall I shall go head over heels down, like a ball."

"No, no; you must drop into a sitting position, and slide down."

"If you can," grumbled Esau. "Oh dear, I wish I hadn't come. I'd give all I've got to be sitting down in old Dempster's office, with him bullying me about a mistake in the copying."

"Come along!" came like an echo over the stones, and even that sound sent a few stones sliding down as I looked across and saw Gunson with his hands to his mouth, while just then I saw something which quite cheered me. For there was a faint curl of smoke rising up from among the trees, and I knew that it was Quong making a fire to get us some tea.

"There, Esau," I said, "Quong's getting ready to cook something. Come, you go, and let's have a rest and a good meal."

"Ready to cook indeed! Why the sun's cooking one side of me now. There, look at that."

"Yes," I said, as I looked in the direction indicated; "some kind of eagle."

"Yes; flying away as easily as he likes. Don't it seem a shame that a stupid bird should be able to go along like that, and we have to climb and fall down?"

"Oh, I can't argue about that," I said, desperately, as, somewhat in doubt whether I could balance my pack on my head, I raised it there and stood perfectly still. "I'm going to take a long breath and then start."

"Here, what yer going to do?" he cried. "I ain't going to be left all alone here."

"Well, then, go first."

"But I can't go first and leave you. S'pose you can't get over after, or tumble down, what am I to say to that Mr John?"

"What an unreasonable fellow you are, Esau!" I cried angrily.

"There, you're getting nasty with me. That's right. Now I ask you, ain't a fix like this enough to make any fellow unreasonable?"

"But if we've got it to do, why not do it?"

"Come on!" Gunson shouted, and I took two steps forward, when, bringing up his pack, Esau made a desperate plunge and got before me, sending quite an avalanche of stones down as he shouted--

"Me first!--you wait."

I had no alternative but to step back to the easier slope, and regain my position, while Esau went on tramp, tramp, balancing himself steadily, but instead of striking up the slope he kept straight on for a time, and gradually sinking lower and lower as he went farther away.

"Work upward!" I shouted.

"Well, ain't I?" came back, faintly heard amidst the rattling of the stones; and once more I stood there waiting, suffering agonies as I saw him struggle on, now going down, now fighting his way up, so that his course was like that of a snake across a dusty road, such as I had many a time seen down in the country. Every now and then he tottered, and I thought he was going to fall, but he recovered himself, and went on with his feet sinking in the loose stones, and every now and then descending so far that I thought he would never recover his lost ground.

I did not feel the heat so much now, the perspiration that stood upon my face was cold, and I gave a start now and then, as I shivered in my dread, making sure that he was gone.

When at last I saw him get right across, I closed my eyes, feeling so giddy that I was glad to sit down on my pack for the sensation to pass off, being quite unequal to the task of going in my turn.

"I wish I were not such a coward," I said to myself, as I looked forward and saw Esau lying down and resting. Then I wished I had persevered and gone on, for I should have been out of my misery by that time. Lastly, as I saw Gunson wave his hand, I rose, balanced my pack, and changed the side till I made it fit well over my head. I was quite encouraged to find that it seemed to add to my steadiness, and after taking a last look round, and ending by fixing my eyes upon a point high above where Gunson stood, I took two steps and then stopped, saying to myself, "I shall never do it."

I started again, and from that moment the nervous sensation of dread left me. I felt firm and strong, and that all I had to do was to step boldly, and think of nothing but my pack, taking care that it did not escape from its resting-place upon my head. And oddly enough, my anxiety lest I should let it fall to go bounding down the slope, kept me from thinking about myself as I tramped on, with stones rattling, my feet going down with them, and my breath coming shorter and shorter with the exertion. But I kept my load well balanced, and went on till I was about half way across, when the stones seemed to be much smaller and began to flow like sand. It appeared as if all the larger ones had been set in motion by my companions, and that they had gone down, sweeping the surface clear for me to grow more involved at every step, till I found that no matter how I struggled to get higher so as to keep near the horizontal line of the crossing, I kept sinking lower and lower till I felt that I should glide right into the river before I was across.

With a desperate feeling of determination I kept on bearing up toward the top, but it was always quite labour in vain, through my want of skill, as the smaller stones being more fluent, I found myself still sinking down more and more with every step, till, mingled with the peculiar rattle of the gliding stones, came the roar of the river foaming and dashing amongst the rocks, and into which I expected to be plunged.

Forward still, with a feeling of anger growing within me--a contempt for my own weakness that still kept back the feeling of dread. I had lost sight of Gunson and Esau, and thinking now of nothing but keeping on my legs, I dragged foot after foot out of the stones, and tried to plant one on firmer ground, but tried in vain, till at last I had been carried down so low that though my head was averted, and my eyes were directed toward the spot I ought to have reached, I knew, as I made my last desperate effort, that I was only a few yards above the water.

Then, crash!--crash!--crash!--crash!--my feet striking heavily and sending the stones flying, I fought blindly on. There was a singing in my ears, a sense of strangling in my throat, and above all, a dull, half-stunned sensation, mingled with which were thoughts of the others; and then as darkness came over me, and I fell forward, there was a sharp jerk, a few encouraging words were said by some one, and I found myself lying amongst stones and moss, too much exhausted to speak.

"Better?" said a well-known voice.

"Better?" I said, faintly; "have I been ill?"

"Ill? No, my lad; but you've had a narrow escape. You were nearly down to the edge of the river when I got hold of your hand."

"And the pack?" I said, in a husky whisper.

"It lies out yonder on the slope, waiting till the next slide of stones sweeps it away."

"Then I dropped it?" I said, wonderingly.

"Yes. Never mind the pack; you are safe. Why, you did not manage so well as we did, Gordon."

"No," I said, feeling very much exhausted and faint; "and yet I thought I could do it better. The stones gave way so."

Gunson laughed.

"Yes; we ought to have tried another plan. The whole slope is quite rotten, and nothing holds the stones together."

I looked round now, and found that we were at the very bottom of a steep bit of precipice, down which something blue was coming cautiously, which we recognised as Quong.

"What is it, my man?" said Gunson.

"Come 'long down get pack," said Quong. "You velly bad?" he continued to me.

"No, no, we must leave it," said Gunson; and I looked at where my pack lay, tightly done up in its blanket, about a score yards away.

"Leave pack?" cried Quong, looking at Gunson as if he thought him mad. "Leave fo' Indian man come find? No. Quong set him." And going quickly and delicately over the stones with a step that was almost cat-like in its lightness, he had reached my bundle almost before Gunson could protest. Swinging it up on his head as he turned, he began to come back as quickly as he went, but now he began to get lower and lower.

"He'll be swept away!" cried Gunson, excitedly; and, placing one foot at the extreme verge of the firm ground, he reached out towards the Chinaman.

"Give me your hand, my lad," he cried, hoarsely; and as I lay there, I stretched out my hand to have it seized, while I watched Quong coming nearer, splashing up the water now and sending the spray flying as he strained forward to get hold of Gunson.

For a few moments we both thought he was gone, for he had glided down till the water was over his ankles, and still, as he reached out, he was a few inches from Gunson's grasp, while for him to have moved would have been fatal; but he made one more effort, hooking his fingers over Gunson's, and then there was another jerk, the bundle came over on to me, and as our friend made a violent muscular effort to throw himself back, the little Chinaman was dragged right over on to firm ground. _

Read next: Chapter 27. How We Found Out A Puzzle

Read previous: Chapter 25. Quong Takes Refuge

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