Below him a ledge of rock stuck its ugly lip out into space. Nice drop, that—must be thirty feet. Those gray things at the bottom must be boulders. Which one would he hit? Ah—h—
For one terrible moment Teddy hung on the edge. Then a swift drop—and night closed about him with velvet wings.
How long he had lain there unconscious, Teddy never learned. He opened his eyes upon a sky ripped and torn by red lightning flashes. Idly he lay on his back, staring upward at the unusual spectacle of a thunder storm without thunder or rain, and with red lightning instead of white. Queer, that! He’d have to tell Roy about it. Where was Roy, by the way? He’d enjoy this. He always did like sunsets and such things. Poetry, too! Funny fellow. Reading books of verses! Like mom, maybe. She used to be a school teacher. Denver, or some place like that. Jimminy, look at that streak of fire! All the way across the sky! Watch for the next one, now. Why, was the storm over? Certainly there were no more lightning flashes. Seemed to be clearing up. Wow, what a headache!
With a supreme effort that caused a wave of pain that almost overpowered him, Teddy struggled to a sitting position. He looked around him in a puzzled manner, trying hard to adjust his mind to the scene about him. The sky was as blue as it always was, and there was no sign of a storm. The red flashes had disappeared. In the west, the sun, a huge ball of fire, was casting a radiance on the forest below. It was nearly evening.
Teddy shook his head to clear it, then pressed his hand to his lips to keep back a cry of agony. He must not give in. But, for a moment, the boy fell back upon the rock, breathing hard.
When he raised himself again the searing sensations at the back of his head had turned to dull, aching pain. Gingerly, the boy moved first one leg, and then the other. They seemed all right. Neither of his arms was broken. Taking a deep breath, Teddy determined to stand. It was easy—just bend one leg under him, lean on his elbow, and push upward. Then his head would have to come along, no matter how much it wanted to lie quietly on the cool rocks. Now—one, two, three! He was up!
Wondering how long his legs would support him, Teddy leaned weakly against a wall of rock. Steady, now! He’d have to figure this thing out. Here he was in a prison of rock. On three sides there arose the bare, hard granite. The front of this rocky cubicle was open, and Teddy staggered to the edge and looked over. Below him yawned a sheer drop of two or three hundred feet. Now the question was, how in thunder did he get here?
He had fallen, that was one sure thing. No doubt about that, Teddy thought, as he looked ruefully at his torn clothes and bruised and bleeding hands. But how did he get so sliced up? A fall would never have done that. The fall could have caused that cut on his head, but not these rents in his clothes. Why, he looked as though he’d been put through a meat-chopper.
If his head would stop whirling for a moment he might be able to figure this out! Think, now. Thirsty—yes, he was thirsty. Awfully thirsty. He must find some water. A spring. A spring! Why, he was looking for a spring! That’s what happened! He and Roy were thirsty, so they separated, trying to find that spring! Then that slide!
A shudder passed over Teddy’s body. Memory returned with a rush, and with it came desperate realization. He was trapped here, alone, and he had no way to tell Roy and the others where he was! Suppose they never found him? Suppose the horse he had fallen from wandered far off and misled the others in their search? Teddy gave a shiver. Then he straightened up. Have to cut that out. He had been in worse fixes than this, and he always had gotten out all right. He would this time, too. Dad and Roy would surely find him. If he only had some water! He was burning up.