But this sensation did not last. A glance back showed that, if anything, he was farther in advance than before, and, taking heart at this, he pressed on, leaping little gaps, climbing over rocks, and descending at times to where the little stream trickled when the ground was more level.
All this while the fugitive was conscious that he was ascending, the ravine being, as it were, a huge gash riven in the mountain-side. And this knowledge that he was ascending would have depressed his spirits once more had he not set his teeth and tried manfully to keep before him the one idea that he must and would escape.
The depressing sensation was caused by the thought that sooner or later he would come to the end of the stones and rocks and reach the snow; then, higher up the mountain-side, come upon the ice itself, where the bears would be quite in their element and rapidly run him down.
“But they have not done that yet,” muttered Steve, as a look back reassured him; and he steadily went on walking and climbing.
He knew that his friends must have reached the bottom of the coal cliff, and be wondering why he had run on.
“They’ll be sure to guess it was to light a fire,” he said; but as he said it he wondered whether they would find the place he had chosen for the purpose.
“Sure to,” he thought; “and as the fire is not alight they will begin to hunt for me, and come to my help at last. Of course; they will very soon find my bonnet.” But, even as he thought this, he recalled that it was not inside the mouth of the defile, but beyond; and his spirits sank again, for he thought out exactly what happened: that his friends would come some distance up the ravine in search of him, find no traces, and go back.
Plenty of ideas suggestive of the means of escape flashed through the boy’s brain as he toiled on.
One was the possibility of climbing up some precipitous part of the gully as high as he could get, and seating himself there to wait until the bears were wearied out and left him.
But he gave this idea up for more than one reason.