IN PERIL
We must now go back in our narrative to where we left Jim Darlington and the Spaniard, Senor Sebastian, in a position of extreme peril, between the cliffs and the deep sea, with the white-fanged tide coming in like a devouring monster eager for its prey.
"Is there a chance, Senor?" cried Jim as soon as his horse gained his footing.
"It is the fatal day, I fear," replied the Spaniard with resigned hopelessness. "The sea is hungry."
"As for that, so am I," declared Jim coolly. "So let us try to get around the headland and after that, supper."
"As you please," acquiesced the Spaniard quietly.
Then Jim turned Caliente's head and with a quick touch of the spur sent him full stride along the curving beach, followed closely by the Spaniard. Already the heavy waves were licking far up the slant of the sand. Even the veteran Caliente seemed nervous at its approach, while Don Fernando would jump and shy as the hissing water crept around his feet.
In about two minutes the two horsemen reached the base of the rocky headland that barred their way. It was a desperate moment, there was but one thing to do and that was to take the chance.
"Better be drowned quick, Caliente, old boy," cried Jim, "than slowly, but we'll beat you yet," and he shook his clenched fist at the ocean, and whirled his horse to meet a wave that struck Caliente breast high. So for a moment, the two, boy and horse, stood facing their powerful enemy, The Sea, that came with the recurring charge, its evenly separated files robed in blue with white crests. Thus they stood getting a full free breath before they leaped into the ranks of the foe.
Jim's strained, keen gaze took in every detail of the situation, noting the position of the rocks that a receding wave left bare, so that he might find a clear path or trail in his dash for life. Nor did his gaze flinch as he saw the advancing wave break against the front of the cliff.
"Now, Caliente," yelled Jim, with a sense of fierce determination and exultation that communicated itself to his horse, and lifting his feet free from the stirrups so that he would not be entangled, if Caliente should fall, he headed him seaward, galloping fast down the beach upon the heels of the withdrawing wave.
Meeting a smaller inrush of water and dashing through its foaming crest, his gallant horse swam until he got a foothold upon the rocks at the base of the cliff. Now was the crucial moment. With absolute recklessness, Jim urged his powerful horse over the foam-covered rocks, striving to get around the prow of the headland before the charge of the next wave. Not one look did Jim give seaward, all his energies were bent upon using every precious second, and Caliente was filled with his rider's indomitable spirit.
Then above them towered the fatal wave, and with a confused roar, it broke over them in sweltering foam and they were swept towards the black front of the cliff. Then came the impact against the rock and the next moment, stunned and bruised, Jim holding to the pommel of the saddle, with a death-grip, was carried out to sea with Caliente in the grasp of the retreating wave.
It was all over, as like pieces of drift, horse and rider were swept away, but fortune does sometime favor the brave and, being caught in a powerful current, Caliente was carried South of the headland and his progress towards the sea was stayed by a rock that rose high, an outer-guard of the headland. So then the next great wave bore them toward the beach, and once Caliente got his feet upon the sandy bottom he braced himself against the fierce pull of the retreating sea, striving to drag him back again.
Though almost unconscious, Jim clung to the saddle with his body half-drooping over the pommel. Then Caliente plunged blindly forward until he stood with head bent down and nose almost touching the sand, his great sides heaving, but safe at last.
In the distance, a horseman could be seen coming at full gallop along the straight line of the beach. It was Jo, who finally had become frightened by the non-appearance of his two comrades and had turned back. His fright had been increased by seeing a horse and rider coming apparently out of the sea.
When he came up, he found his brother Jim sitting on the sand still half dazed but slowly coming to himself.
"Where's the Senor, Jim?" cried Jo. This question served to bring Jim completely to himself. He got up, looking pale, with one side of his face bruised to a real blackness, and the flesh of his left hand badly torn, where it had struck the cliff, but he was not thinking of these matters.
"Why, Jo, the Senor came after me. Where is he?" Then it came over him all at once, that his companion was even now caught between the jaws of the black cliff.
"We must get to him, Jo," he cried.
"But how did you ever get around that cliff?" asked Jo.
Already it was an awesome sight as the waves crashed in foam against its front and rushed shoreward along its black sides. It seemed impossible that only fifteen minutes before Jim had actually come around that foaming headland.
In reply to Jo's question, Jim threw his arms around Caliente's neck with warm affection.
"This is the old fellow that pulled me through," he cried. "But we must go to the help of our Spanish friend."
"How can we?" inquired Jo. "We can't get around the headland unless we become fishes."
Jim considered the problem carefully. One thing he was determined on and that was not to leave the Spaniard who had been so hospitable and helpful to them.
"No, we can't go around by the headland," he determined, "but we might be able to find a way over the rocks and down on the other side."
"All right, I'm ready."
"Let's find a place for Caliente first," advised his owner. Back a short distance from the beach there were some trees on a lower spur of the mountain. Here Jim brought Caliente and took off the saddle and bridle.
"Now make yourself comfortable," said Jim.
Caliente, in seeming recognition of what was said, took immediate advantage of the invitation and rolled heartily in a dry and dusty spot.
"Get your lasso, Jo," urged Jim, "and we will start."
So together they made for the steep rock and soon reached the base of it, and now began a hard climb, but no more difficult than they had encountered before in their travels.
"Do you recollect, Jim," inquired Jo, "that day you got stalled in our first canyon in Colorado, when you tried to imitate an eagle and fly up a precipitous cliff and we had to get you down?"
"Oh, yes, I remember," replied Jim, "and how I scared you and Tom by pretending that an Injun was after me, when I went down to the creek for water."
"Poor Tom," said Jo sadly, "I wonder when we will see him again."
"In a couple of days," stoutly declared the optimistic Jim.
They were now going up the face of the cliff, the lariats over their shoulders, and searching with careful feet for a foothold, while their hands clutched some piece of projecting rock.
"Lucky this rock isn't rotten," cried Jo, "or we would find ourselves stuck headfirst in the sand below."
"Like an ostrich," said Jim. "We couldn't do much in a place like this without our moccasins, that's certain."
The moccasins did make them nimble as goats, and they not only made possible a secure hold, but they protected as well the feet. At first they were not in any grave danger of a fall because the drifted sand at the bottom of the cliff would have made a soft landing. But after a while they were forced to work their way out over the rushing water, then if they had slipped and fallen it would have been all up with them.
It seemed as if the sea, furious at having lost Jim a short while ago, was making fierce efforts to get at them now. The great waves foamed against the cliff and the spray dashed over the boys, making the surface of the rock treacherous and slippery.
"I can't bear to look down," said Jo. "It makes me dizzy."
"Look up, then," Jim called back.
"That's almost as bad," replied Jo.
"Keep 'em shut then," was Jim's command.
Finally they came to a place that stopped Jo entirely. Jim was able to get over it, because of his superior height and reach, and he attained a point of safety above Jo.
"What am I going to do now?" cried Jo. "I can't go any higher and it is impossible for me to go back."
"You wait," urged Jim, "till I get a secure foothold above here."
"Oh, I'll wait," said Jo grimly, "you don't observe any anxiety on my part to move, do you?"