Frank in the Mountains

by Harry Castlemon

"Now, red skin, I'll show you how easily I can handle you," exclaimed Frank. "I was only playing with you this morning, but now I am in earnest. Keep perfectly still, or I'll pitch you into the gully."

Frank, as we have said, was greatly alarmed when he found that the Indian had been calling for assistance, and that his shouts had elicited a response from some of his friends. He had no fears but that he could hold his ground against one Indian, armed with a bow and arrow, but suppose that the reinforcements who were coming up were full-grown Indians, and supplied with rifles? He must escape from there before they arrived; and the only way that he could discover to accomplish this, was to contrive some plan to induce his antagonist to cross the gorge. If he could bring him to close quarters, and could get hold of him before he had an opportunity to draw his knife or tomahawk, he was sure that he would have nothing to fear; but he dared not leave his tree while his enemy held his position on the opposite side of the gully, for he would send his arrows about him like hail-stones.

All these thoughts passed through Frank's mind in an instant of time; and when the savage discharged his last arrow at him—it passed so close to him that it left a mark across his forehead—he staggered and fell, as if he had been mortally wounded. That was his plan for bringing his enemy across the gorge, and we have seen how it succeeded. His design now was to disarm the savage, tie him to a tree, and then take to his heels, and leave the gully as far behind as possible, before the reinforcements arrived.

"I'm all right yet, you see," said Frank, holding his antagonist down with one hand, and with the other unfastening the belt in which he carried his knife and tomahawk. "If you live a few years longer, you will learn that an Indian never gets smart enough to outwit a white man. Now——"

Frank did not finish the sentence, for just then he happened to look up, and saw a sight that drove all thoughts of the Indian out of his mind. The bank on which he and his antagonist were lying, hung over the gorge, and a portion of it, about twenty feet square, having, no doubt, been loosened by their struggles, was sinking down into the abyss, carrying with it Frank and the Indian, and also the tree which had served the latter for a breast-work. Its motion was slow, almost imperceptible at first, but it was gathering headway, and moving more rapidly every instant. As quick as thought Frank was on his feet, and gathering himself for a spring; but it was too late. The earth slid from beneath him, and, like a drowning man grasping at straws, Frank clutched the branches of the tree with a death-grip, and plunged with it into the gorge. For an instant he descended with what seemed to him lightning rapidity, and then the motion was suddenly checked—so suddenly, that the branches were almost torn from his grasp—and he found himself swinging in the air, twenty feet below the top of the precipice. The tree was hanging with its head downward, but its roots were still imbedded in the firm earth above; and that was all that had saved Frank from destruction.

All this passed in much less time than we have taken to describe it, and it may be imagined that Frank's mind was in a great whirl. When he recovered himself sufficiently to understand his situation, he looked up and saw the young Indian clinging to the roots of the tree, and struggling to draw himself up to the firm ground above. He saw more: he saw that with every effort the Indian made, he was loosening the roots of the tree, and that one by one they were giving away. Forgetting, in that moment of peril, that he and the young warrior had been engaged in a desperate fight but a moment before, Frank, still hanging at arm's length from the branches of the tree, with an abyss of unknown depth below him, into which he was every instant expecting to be plunged by the giving away of the roots above, addressed words of advice and encouragement to the frightened savage.

"Take it easy, up there!" said he, coolly. "Don't thrash about so, for you are only exhausting yourself, without doing any good. Take your time, and you are all right."

But the Indian was too nearly overcome with fear, and too intent upon extricating himself from his dangerous position, to heed the advice. He struggled more desperately than ever, and finally, to Frank's immense relief, succeeded in pulling himself over the roots, and crawling up to the solid bank. Then his fear all vanished. He uttered a loud yell of exultation, and bent over the precipice to look at Frank, who was coming up through the branches hand over hand. He watched him for a moment, and then disappeared from view; and when he came back to the brink of the gorge, he carried his bow in his hand, with an arrow fitted to the string, which he drew to its head, and pointed straight at Frank's breast.

The young hunter was now menaced by another danger. He had escaped falling into the gorge almost by a miracle, but it did not seem possible that there was the least chance for escape this time. The Indian was standing on the bank above him, and Frank could almost touch the steel head of the arrow with his hand. He was completely at the mercy of his foe, who surely could not miss so large a mark at that distance. His bearing at that moment would have delighted Dick Lewis, could he have seen him. He hung by his hands from the branches of the tree, looking defiantly up into the Indian's face, and not a muscle quivered. The young warrior was evidently astonished, for he lowered his bow, gazed down at his helpless antagonist for a moment, and called out:

"White boy, you no afraid?"