“Down He Fell”
XXVIII
How Kutnar descended the precipitous wall of the Scarp, he never knew nor did he care. A slip of hand or foot would have sent him to his death, a thing he feared not, for it meant only peace and rest to his aching heart. His motions were those of one imprudent and entirely heedless of danger. He lowered his body from one rock projection to another in such reckless fashion that the wonder is he did not fall. Some good angel must have been watching over him. His long journey downward was entirely without mishap and he reached the foot of the Scarp in safety.
Here a tremendous surprise awaited him. Pic’s body had disappeared. In its stead, a man sat upon the rock-platform with feet dangling over the edge. His body was bruised and bleeding. His eyes were closed and his head hung forward upon his chest. Had not the Mammoth’s trunk curled around his waist, given him support, he must have fallen. But he was alive for his muscles twitched feebly and he mumbled strange words that neither Hairi nor Wulli could understand.
For an instant, Kutnar stared open-mouthed unable to realize the great mercy that some good spirit had reserved as his portion. “Alive!” he said in a low voice as though fearing to disturb the dead. “I am dreaming. It cannot be.”
“Alive, yes he is. Oowee, oowee!” squealed the Rhinoceros jumping up and down with joy. “And now you too are safe.”
Kutnar sprang to his father with a glad cry and threw his arms about him. Pic opened his eyes. “Kutnar,” he murmured feebly; then his eyes closed again and he rambled on deliriously about wolves and hyenas and snow and various other things that had not the remotest connection with the present occasion. It was a most unintelligible discourse but his audience listened with rapt attention and beamed happily, for it all meant that Pic was alive.