CHAPTER XXII
The First Attempt at Jefferson—Dumplin’ Almost Falls to Death—the Hardest Work the Boys Ever Did
He was falling into a terrible black cañon where there was a loud noise of whirling water—and he woke to hear the alarm clock buzzing. The grip of the bad dream was still on him, and he was shivering a little, as Uncle Billy got up and lit the lantern in the tent. It was pitch dark in the woods outside, and still as death. But as they dressed, the three could hear Mr. Stone and Dumplin’ dressing in their tent, and then the sound of the cook starting the breakfast fire. Those who were to make the climb put on light shoes, for they were going to use the horses as far as timber line. They came out of the tents wearing their heavy sweaters, for it was bitterly cold, and washing by the brook was a very sketchy job. Nobody even suggested a bath.
While breakfast was cooking, they huddled around the stove. Meanwhile the horse rustler had gone up into the open meadow to round up six saddle horses. He was bringing them back as they ate their bacon and drank their coffee by lantern light, still huddled around the stove. As soon as the horses were saddled, each member of the party put his lunch into his pack, slung a canteen over his shoulder, tied his climbing boots over the saddle horn, took his alpenstock in his hand, like a lance, made sure he also had his colored goggles, and mounted.
“I feel like Sir Launcelot,” cried Dumplin’, tipping his alpenstock forward, like a knight about to tilt.
“I’d hate to tell you what you look like,” Bennie laughed. “Did Sir Launcelot carry his boots on his saddle?”
Bennie was the last one into the saddle, because he had to catch Jeff and tie him up. “Don’t let him loose till we’ve been gone a couple of hours,” he called back to the cook. “Don’t want him to follow us and break his neck.”
The sleepy cook grunted, and Jeff whined and moaned and tugged at his improvised rope collar, as Bennie patted him good-bye and climbed into the saddle.
It was still dark in the woods as they moved out of camp, but out in the open meadow of the cove there was a kind of gray daylight. Norman and the doctor led the way, putting the horses across the creek, and heading them for the steep side wall opposite the chute they had descended the day before.
This wall, when they came to it, was not so steep, however, as the chute. It had once been burned over, too, so that there was no timber except some dead, fallen stuff, and no snow. They zigzagged up it quickly, and at the top, looking over a two-mile gentler slope of low forest, they saw again the snow-white cone of the mountain rising up against the sky—or, rather, they half saw it, for the white clouds were swirling around it.
“They’ll lift with the sun,” said Norman. “Don’t worry.”