“No!” she replied. “It is Tom! He is down there––his leg broken––and no food! You must go down to him.”
“Go down?” queried the puncher. “What good would that do? I couldn’t help him with that climb. He weighs a good two hundred.” 350
“You can take food down to him and let him know that help is coming. You must!”
Gowan looked sullenly at the unconscious man. “Sorry, Miss Chuckie. It’s no go. I ain’t a mountain sheep.”
“But he came up!”
“That’s different. It’s a sight easier going up cliffs than climbing down. No, you’ll have to excuse me, Miss Chuckie.”
The girl flamed with indignant anger. “You coward! You saw him come up, after all that time down in those fearful depths––after fighting his way all those miles along the terrible river––yet you dare not go down! You coward! you quitter!”
The puncher’s face turned a sickly yellow, and he seemed to shrink in on himself. His voice sank to a husky whisper: “You can say that, Miss Chuckie! Any man say it, he’d be dead before now. If you want to know, I’ve got a mighty good reason for not wanting to go down. It ain’t that I’m afraid. You can bank on that. It’s something else. I’ll go quick enough––but it’s got to be on one condition. You’ve got to promise to marry me.”
“Marry you?”
“Yes. You know how I’ve felt towards you all these years. Promise to marry me, and I’ll go to hell and back for you. I’ll do anything for you. I’ll save him!” 351