CHAPTER XXVIII
THE UNEXPECTED
After a hard tramp Wyllard felt a troublesome dizziness creeping over him, and he sat down upon a boulder with the rifle across his knees. He had eaten little in the last few days, which had been spent in arduous exertion, and now the leaden weariness which he had fought against since morning threatened to overcome him. In addition to this, he was oppressed by a black dejection, which, though his mind had never been clearer, reacted upon his failing physical powers, for it was now evident that he and his companions could not reach the inlet while their provisions held out. There was no longer any doubt that he had involved the two faithful men in disaster, and the knowledge that he had done so was bitter.
With haggard face he sat gazing up the ravine. Although he scarcely imagined that either of the others had expected anything, he shrank from going back as empty-handed as when he had left them. The light was getting very dim, but he could still see the ice fringe upon the pool in front of him, and a mass of rock that rose black against the creeping dusk not very far away. Beyond it on the one side there seemed to be a waste of stones amid which a few wreaths of snow still gleamed lividly. Then a wall of rock scarcely distinguishable in the shadow shut in the hollow.
The hollow was filled with the hoarse roar of the river and the sharp crash and crackle of stream-driven ice, but by and by the worn-out man started as he caught another faint sound which suggested the clink of a displaced stone. His hands closed hard upon the rifle, but he sat very still, listening with strained attention until he heard the sound again. Then a thrill ran through him, for he was quite certain of it’s meaning. A stone had rolled over higher up the gorge, and he rose and crept forward, cautiously, keeping the detached rock between him and the upper portion of the ravine. Once or twice a stone clattered noisily beneath his feet, and he stopped for a moment or two, wondering with tense anxiety whether the sound could be heard at any distance through the roar of the river. This was a much more serious business than crawling through the long grass for a shot at the prairie antelope, when in ease of success it had seemed scarcely worth while to pack the tough and stringy venison back to the homestead.
By and by he heard the clatter of a displaced stone again, and this time the sound was so distinct and near that it puzzled him. The wild creatures of the waste were, he knew, always alert, and their perception of an approaching danger was wonderful. It seemed strange that the beast he was creeping in upon could not hear him, but he realized that he must face the hazard of detection, since in another few minutes it would be too dark to shoot. He had almost reached the rock by this time, and he shifted his grasp on the rifle, holding it thrust forward in front of him while crouching low he looked down for a spot on which to set his foot each time he moved. It would, he knew, be useless to go any further if a stone turned over now. He was fortunate, however, and, strung up to highest tension, he stole into the deeper gloom behind the rock.
A little pool ran in close beneath the rock, but it was covered with ice and slushy snow. Treading cautiously, he crept across it, and held his breath as he moved out from behind the rock. He stopped suddenly, for a man stood face to face with him scarcely a stone’s throw away. The stranger’s fur-clad figure cut sharply against a gleaming back of snow, and he held a gun in his hand. Though the light had almost gone, it was evident to Wyllard that he was a white man.
They stood very still for several seconds gazing at each other, and then the stranger dropped the butt of his weapon and called out sharply, uttering words in a tongue that Wyllard did not recognize. Wyllard did not move and the man spoke again. What he said was still unintelligible, but this time Wyllard knew that he was trying German. When he received only a shake of the head as an answer, the stranger tried again. This time is was French that he spoke.
“You can come forward, comrade,” he said.