Chapter XV: What Happened to Lanky

"Come as quick as you can--nearly all in, and feel like I'm going to--faint, you know. Think of _me_, Lanky Wallace, actin' like that! But--it's awful--being turned upside-down this way! Hurry along!"

Lanky's words greatly mystified Frank, for as yet he had failed to get the first glimpse of his chum in trouble. Not for long, however, did this ignorance last.

"Well, Lanky Wallace sure has pulled a stunt I never saw equaled!" burst from the lips of the amazed and startled Frank, when, bursting through a barrier of thorny brushwood, he saw a swinging figure hanging head downward over the edge of a sheer drop that would measure a full twelve feet.

It was Lanky all right, though few of his friends would be able to recognize him if discovered in that awkward and ridiculous posture. One of his feet seemed to be entangled in a vine that grew from a fissure close to the top of the diminutive cliff, which, of course, assumed the size of a precipice to the unfortunate human pendulum.

But it was no laughing matter to Lanky. If left too long, he would come to a dangerous pass, since all the blood would go to his head, and so encompass his death.

He must have twisted and writhed with might and main in the endeavor to reach up a groping hand and obtain some sort of grip upon the vine that was the cause of his stumbling over the edge of that cliff.

Now he had stopped all that useless work and was swinging back and forth, for all the world like the weight in a great grandfather clock in the Allen home at Columbia.

Losing not a second in inaction, Frank hastened to make his way up one side of the rocky wall, which he was able to do by searching for toe-holds.

These did not always prove as substantial as he would have wished, for once he slipped and slid backward several feet, amidst a vast falling of shale and earth.

Poor despairing Lanky gave vent to an agonized howl on hearing the racket thus made. He naturally fancied, not being able to see a thing on account of the coat dangling over his head, that his rescuer had gotten himself into some serious predicament, which would "settle his--Lanky's--goose," since further delay must drive him frantic.

"Nothing gone wrong, Lanky. Only lost my grip. Be with you in three shakes of a dog's tail. Don't worry, it's Frank talking to you! Now I'm at the top, and going over!"

The knowledge that Frank was actually alive after all the dreadful fears that had oppressed both himself and Paul, helped revive Lanky's drooping spirits considerably. He stopped groaning, and Frank thought he heard him say in a fearfully weak voice something like:

"Bully--it's Frank! Oh, bul--ly boy!"

Now Frank was crawling along the edge of the little precipice toward the spot below which his chum dangled like a mason's plumb-line down the wall he was building.

"Here I am, Lanky, right above you!" he called out cheeringly. "Yes, I can see where you went headlong over, your foot trapped in this vine!"

He leaned cautiously over the brink. Lanky was directly below, and Frank was pleased to see that it would not be difficult for him to get a firm grip on the other's ankle; though just how he was to raise Lanky gave him immediate concern.

Some object caught his eye--it looked a bit like a coiled snake of tremendous proportions, lying there almost on the edge of the abrupt descent. Then Frank realized that it was a coiled rope. Lanky himself had undoubtedly fetched it from the temporary camp, under the impression that he could find a good use for such a thing, if only he should run across his missing chum.

As a plan flashed into his active mind Frank snatched up the strong rope, leaned over, and managed to get its end around Lanky's ankle. As speedily as he could he fastened it securely.

"Listen, Lanky!" he cried out. "I've got the rope fixed so I can lower you down to the ground, once I've cut that vine apart. Here goes, then!"

First Frank took a single hitch of the rope around a small sapling that chanced to be within reach, a most fortunate thing. This he did so it would be doubly easy and safe to lower a heavy weight, without risking being pulled over the edge himself.

Then out came his knife. How glad he was he had always made it a point to keep a razor-like edge on his handy blade. Two, three slashes were all that was required, when the tough vine parted and, by easy little jerks, Lanky commenced to go down toward the rocks below.

No sooner did Frank see that his chum had landed than he fastened the rope in a knot, swung himself over the edge and slid down as if he clasped a greased pole, in the customary doing at the annual Harvest Home fair at Columbia.

Lanky was groaning and moving a little, as Frank knelt down beside him. When he drew the other's coat away from his face Frank was alarmed to discover how black Lanky looked. Evidently a short time longer of that hanging must have quite finished him.

Hearing water gurgling close by, Frank hastened to the small rivulet that came leaping and bubbling down from the snow-clad heights above. He filled Lanky's hat--his own had gone down with that raging torrent--and was speedily back at the other's side.

First of all he made Lanky drink a little of the icy water. Next he bathed the flushed and discolored face with some of the same fluid. The result was gratifying, for by slow degrees that dreadful, purple hue faded from Lanky's features, and he even smiled wanly, his eyes kindling with the awakening joy he felt at once more seeing his best chum bending over him.

"We thought--you must have gone,--Frank!" he managed to say, trying to lift his hand, which Frank had been patting affectionately.

"Well, I had the closest shave of my whole life," replied the other, wincing at the vivid recollection of that never-to-be-forgotten experience. "But you'll hear all about it later on, Lanky; also how I've been keeping a lively pack of gray wolves at bay for several hours by throwing burning brands from my fire at them as they hovered around."

"Whew!" breathed Lanky, gazing at his chum with admiring eyes. "And all I've managed to do along the line of adventure was to trip over a vine, hang head down over a precipice and yell for help!"

After a while Lanky felt so much stronger that it was decided to make a move. He had kept his bearings while starting out at break of day in the hope of finding Frank so now he was able to serve as guide.

They took their way slowly, for neither of them felt very robust. Accordingly it was well on to the middle of the morning when at last Lanky pointed ahead, to remark with a sigh of relief:

"You can see the smoke of their fire right over that big boulder, Frank. They're sticking close to the place where we came out of the canyon, because Jerry says there isn't any other trail he knows of by which to reach Gold Fork camp."

When they were discovered there arose a great shout. Paul waved his hat enthusiastically. Mr. Wallace did the same while both Jerry Brime and Zander Forbes joined in the hearty greeting. The latter had just come back, after combing the lower reaches of the canyon, the flood having passed away, leaving only a bare trickle of water to hint at the almost tragic event of the preceding night.

By degrees the story was told, and everybody seemed to think Frank must surely bear a charmed life, to pass unscathed through two such exciting and hazardous adventures in one night.

It had been agreed upon between the two boys that they would say nothing about what had happened to Lanky. For one thing, he felt ashamed at having been so easily caught napping, and placed in such a ridiculous position. Then, again, he did not want to worry his father with such harrowing details as must follow on his being questioned.

"Of course you can tell Paul all about my silliness," Lanky had said at the time this arrangement was made. "I know he can keep a secret. But I'd never hear the last of it if the fellows in Columbia ever got wind of my fool play."

As Lanky had partaken of no breakfast, being in such a hurry to commence his search, and Frank had fasted since the preceding night, an early hot lunch was made ready, after which they started on again.

Jerry led the way down into the bed of the canyon, whose treachery none of these travelers would ever forget. Once more their faces were turned upward, as the sure-footed ponies made their way among the loose rocks that dotted the bottom of the defile.

In years long gone past all those headed for the new gold discovery had covered this identical ground. The boys could easily imagine them toiling upward--grizzled prospectors and regular miners, some toting all their possessions on their backs, others enjoying the luxury of a donkey to carry burdens.

"And like as not every mother's son of the whole bunch," Paul Bird remarked, on talking with his two chums concerning these things, "was as enthusiastic and hopeful as we are right now, expecting to be lucky enough to run across some wonderful pocket of nuggets, like Josh Kinney had done."

"Yes, that's true enough, Paul," replied Lanky. "But none of them happened to have a neat little homemade chart made by Kinney himself and telling where his cache was hidden in that five-fingered cave. There's a whole lot in having the inside track, you know."

Several hours passed.

They had been making fair and steady progress upward, and Frank could more than half guess they were presently coming to a break in the abrupt steepness marking the sheer mountainside.

"We must be close on that plateau, where we understand the deserted camp lies," he told the other boys.

"What makes you think so?" asked the pleased yet skeptical Paul.

"The lay of the land, for one thing," came the reply. "Then, again, I've been keeping my weather eye fixed on Jerry."

"Clever idea," admitted Paul; while Lanky grinned, proving that he himself must have been doing something similar.

"He's been getting more and more worked up right along," continued Frank, who made it a practice to observe everything around him, and form his own conception of its meaning.

"Reckons he's back again in the good old days," Lanky broke in just then, "when Gold Fork was on the boom, with everybody figuring on being a millionaire before the sun went down six more times. Huh! makes me laugh, the innocence of those old codgers! Poor sillies!"

Even as Lanky spoke, Jerry turned around with uplifted hand.

"We're right thar, boys, and yuh goin' to set eyes on the remains afore yuh's five minuits older. Don't laugh, please, 'case to me it's like a-goin' to a funeral of an old friend. Seen some right lively times hyah in Gold Fork, an' I sumtimes dream 'bout the real men I nudged shoulders with in them rushin' days o' the long ago."

"Let's remember that, fellows," said Frank softly, "and respect Jerry's feelings in the matter. If we have to be amused we can pick out times when the old man isn't around."

"I'll not forget, Frank," said Paul instantly. "I think I can understand about how he feels. To see this familiar stamping-ground again will be like having ghosts walk."

"Ditto here," grunted Lanky, though not quite so given to sentiment.

The stipulated five minutes had not passed when on breaking through a barrier of wild-looking brush and bushes the party came fully upon the wreckage of one of the oldest and most talked-of mining camps in all that region.

To Frank especially, with Jerry and his memories in mind, the picture was intensely desolate, weird, and impressive. All of the pilgrims drew in their tired ponies and stared at what was spread there before them.