16
NEAR TRAGEDY AND RESCUE
The last hour was brutal. Mr. Lurie took the lead with Karl and Judy close behind. On hands and knees they crawled over boulders until they secured a foothold. At one spot Judy was left dangling until her father and Karl inched toward her on their stomachs and pulled her to safety.
Marian’s role was more passive. The coil of rope that Judy had skeptically regarded as a showpiece for Fran now proved its usefulness. Tied under Marian’s arms, he hauled her over rocks and boulders she pluckily attempted but could not scale.
At last they reached the summit. Their salute to the mountain peak was brief. A sharp wind blew through their wet and clammy sweaters. Jackets and windbreakers were pulled from knapsacks. They stood awed and shivering, surrounded by the nearby peaks, silent in the vastness of its forbidding grandeur. Only the cairns, little heaps of massed stones, marked the path of retreat to a world of safety. Mr. Lurie put his arm around Judy and held her close. Fran, as moved as the others, relentlessly pointed to the slanting rays of the sun.
Ten minutes later, they began the descent. Fran rushed ahead with Karl and Judy followed him down the dizzying path. It was fun racing down at almost breakneck speed. The boulders that had defied them and were so hard to grip on the upward climb were friendly on the descent. They sat and slid down, the well-padded leather seats of their pants taking the punishment instead of their young, tough bodies.
Looking back at intervals, they saw Mr. Lurie patiently guiding Marian down the trail, supporting her as she slid down the slippery boulders. Still high above them on the trail, they looked unbelievably small silhouetted against a background of rock and sky.
With high spirits and exuberant bursts of laughter, the three forerunners reached the plateau they had left only an hour and a half earlier and were content to rest as they waited for Marian and Mr. Lurie.
“If you’re game, we can take another trail down,” Fran said. “It’s a little tough in places, but much shorter. We’ll see what they say when they get here.”
When Mr. Lurie and Marian approached and were within hailing distance, Fran called, “Hurry, I want to—”
He got no further. He and his companions eyed Marian with amazement. Her jeans were torn. Long strips of fabric hung in ribbons and light pink stuff showed through the rents of the once slick garment. Her cap was gone and Mr. Lurie’s leather jacket hung loosely on her shoulders. With her rumpled curls falling limply over her brow, she looked like a desperate young bandit.