10 The Unscalable Cliff

When Will returned to earth, after wandering for a space in vast unknown regions between the worlds, he was conscious of lying on something soft. The feeling, vague at first, was not at all unpleasant. For just a minute, perhaps, he did not remember what had happened, and then it all came back, the terrible sliding beneath his feet, the roaring in his ears, and the fall into the abyss.

Then he wondered why he was not dead. Perhaps he was and this was Wakantankatipi (Heaven) of the Dakota. If so, it must be a glorious place, worth looking at, and he opened his eyes. But he saw only walls of snow, and when he undertook to move he found that he was imbedded in snow to his waist. Then he knew that he was not in Wakantankatipi, but that he abode yet a while on Maga (Earth). He was pleased with the knowledge. Heaven must be truly a magnificent abode, but he was young and before he went to heaven he wished to live his allotted span in the world into which he had been born. He felt that he had work to finish before he went away.

He struggled to pull himself out of the snow, and then he became conscious that he had not escaped all injury in his fall. He felt bruises all over his body, but he strove on, nevertheless, and managed to raise himself until the snow only came up to his knees. Then he became exhausted and his head grew dizzy. Leaning against the snow bank, he rested and looked upward, where he saw nothing but a rift of sky. He had no way of telling how far he had fallen, but he knew that it must have been far, the great mass of snow skidding with him as he went down and acting as a pillow when he struck. It had been a mere chance that he had fallen on top of it instead of under it, but he took the result as a direct interposition of the good spirits. There was other proof of it, his splendid horn bow and quiver of arrows hung on his back unharmed, his revolver was safe in his belt and his pack of food had not been disturbed.

It was surely a miracle, and he would rejoice in the telling of it, when he rejoined his comrades an hour or two later! Perhaps they could come down and help him out of the snowy chasm, and he began to shout at the top of his voice, repeating his call over and over again. There was no reply save a fall of snow from the crest of the bank, and its soft swish as it rolled down to his feet. He realized that the current of air, set in motion by his voice, had been sufficient to cause the fall. Hence he was in a situation in which he must move with extreme caution. He might be on a shelf in the side of the cliff, or he might be in the valley itself. It was a vital problem, and, for the moment, he did not know how to decide it.

Although he had been imbedded in the snow, he was not cold. He realized instead that he had cause to be very grateful for snow. Whether he was on a shelf or in the valley, his fall had been great, and only a vast amount of snow could have saved him. Nothing else could have helped. He worked again at the process of extricating himself, until he stood entirely free upon the snow, which his exertions had now packed under his feet. His success, even in a small way, encouraged him. Why should he despair? He was Waditaka of a valiant band of the Dakota, led by the wise Roka, a band that had overcome superhuman hardships and dangers, and it was not for him to feel depression. Moreover, he had just been saved by a miracle, and he would soon be back with his brave comrades, who beyond doubt were now looking for him. The fact that his weapons, as well as himself, had escaped real injury was proof that the good spirits still watched over him, despite his fall.

He raised his voice once more and sent forth long calls, but his comrades did not answer. As before, snow fell beneath the wave of air set in motion by his voice, and he concluded that the wall in front of him must be thin. His belief, growing into a conviction, he began to push at it, taking care, in case it fell, not to fall with it, and soon he saw it toppling. Then he stood back, and the embankment went over with a crash, showing him, to his great delight, that he was really standing on the floor of the valley, and that the high wall he had overturned had been formed by snow falling from above and outward.

He drew long, deep breaths of relief and stepped out among the trees, which here grew thick and tall. It was upon their snowy domes that he had gazed down and now he looked up to see how far he had fallen. He was amazed at the distance. It was four or five hundred feet and a vast quantity of snow had come down under him to soften his descent so far. He tested himself thoroughly, and found that the pain from his bruises was departing. He had lived a life of such hardihood and endurance that in an hour he would forget them entirely, and, sitting down on a fallen log, he ate some of the jerked venison from his pack, thinking at the same time upon his position, and of a possible way out of it.

He was in a deep valley, or rather in a great well in the mountains. From his seat on the log, and owing to the absence of underbrush, he saw very clearly that it was almost round, and that its diameter was about half a mile. It was grown up everywhere with trees of great height and size, and a small brook of bright green water, evidently formed by melting snows on the mountain, flowed down its center. As the cliffs rose on all sides to the height of about five hundred feet, he surmised that the little stream went back into them through some rocky opening.

Despite the wintry heights that surrounded it, the little valley was attractive. The peaks and ranges themselves protected it. The tops of the trees, covered with snow, were like vast white umbrellas, but as they rose to a height of two hundred and fifty feet or more, the ground beneath them was in places almost bare of snow and green grass was showing. The whole aspect of the place was inviting and Will thought it a little Eden. After eating, he knelt and drank of the brook’s cold, sweet waters. Then, sure that his comrades must be somewhere on the rim above him, he began to shout.

“Roka! Roka!” he called.

“Pehansan! Pehansan!” he cried.

“Inmu! Inmu!” he sent up from the valley.

“Hoton! Hoton!” he summoned.

They came not for his call, nor did they answer. For a moment apprehension stabbed like a spear at his heart, but he put it aside. They would not leave him. They were off on a false trail, but they would come back soon to the true one. Why should his hopes decline? He was unhurt, he was well armed, and he had food for several days. He resumed his seat on the log, and waited patiently until the face of a Dakota should appear, peering over the edge of the cliff. He wondered which would show first, but he believed it would be Inmu, with whom his comradeship was the closest.

He saw the tops of the trees moving a little under the wind, and the snow fell from them in flakes. A brilliant wintry sun blazed overhead, but it came through the snowy domes, transfigured and softened, until the red was almost pink. The beautiful delicate colors fell across the earth in parallel bars, and Will admired them. Surely his first impression was right, and, in very truth and reality, this was a little Eden,

Although the floor of the valley seemed to be level, it had, nevertheless, a smart slope toward the east, as the brook running in that direction flowed with a swift current. Clear, running water was always grateful to Will’s eyes and he had never seen a finer little stream. Its waters, which at first had appeared a sheer green, were now tinted violet and pink, where the transfused rays of the sun fell upon them. He surmised that noble trout might be found in deep pools farther on, but it was not a matter into which he would look now, as his comrades would be waiting for him and he must discover a way up the wall.

It was hard to decide where to try the ascent first, because the whole circle about the valley seemed to rise up straight like the side of a house. But he knew that difficulties were seldom so great as they seemed, and a wall that looked perpendicular from afar might lean much when he stood at its foot.

He finally decided to follow the stream, but, when he had gone a few steps, a hovering shadow darkened the air above him. He looked up. A vast eagle flying below the snowy umbrellas of the trees was circling about him, and his imagination instantly became so vivid that he was sure he saw the beak and claws of steel and the ferocious red eyes flaming down at him. He strung his bow and took an arrow from his quiver. The great eagle did not attack, although it flew lower and lower, but when it was forty or fifty feet above him it began to rise, going higher and higher, until it was lost from his sight.

Will felt a chill and his heart sank suddenly. Was the shadow of the eagle’s wing a dark omen? As he looked up he no longer saw the beauty of the valley’s floor, but the lofty stony walls and the rim of snow beyond. He refused to let his courage decline, merely because black wings had hovered over him, and turned his eyes back to the green waters of the stream, shot in the shallows with pink and blue tints. It flowed in many a curve, and he saw, at intervals, the deep pools that he had expected. In them, too, he beheld the great trout that he had felt sure would be there, but he did not disturb them now, following the current until it disappeared, as he had foreseen, under a low arch of stone and into the depths of the mountains, through which it probably passed in its subterranean channel to some river, and then on into other rivers, until it reached its haven in the universal ocean. An easy passage for the water, but none for him!

He watched the green stream as it passed under the stone arch, taking the plunge into the dark with a pleasant sigh and gurgle, flowing on forever, fed always by the eternal snows. Then, with a sigh of his own that his way should be so much more difficult, he left the mouth of the brook and continued his walk around the valley. As he had surmised, the walls were not perpendicular, but they were far from having slope enough for a climber. In many places, he might have gone high by crags and pinnacles, but always they failed at some point, leaving a smooth surface beyond which no strength or skill of his could lift him. He had almost completed the circle and despair was replacing hope, when he came to a rift in the stone wall where the path sloped back, and a sparse and dwarf vegetation grew in the crevices. Hope sprang up with a great bound. It was a poor trail and dangerous, but by great exertion he might work his way out there and rejoin the Dakota. As it was now growing dark in the valley and night would soon be at hand, he felt that he must postpone the effort until the next day. A single false step in the dusk would send him crashing to the floor of the valley, to lie there, every bone shattered.

Marking well in his mind the place, he retreated to the green brook, chiefly for the sake of company. The mountain and the valley itself were now so quiet that he liked to hear the pleasant murmuring sound of the swift waters. They talked to him, they told him of the cheerful journey they were going to take through the limitless caverns, through open rivers to the infinite sea, and of all the wonderful things they would see on the way. It was a soothing song and murmur, and looking down at the green waters he envied them once more.

The sun blazed in red splendor for a moment on the western rim of the mountains, and darkness rushed down, filling the valley like a well. The air became cold and he resolved to build a fire there by the stream that talked to him incessantly and so cheerfully. It was not a difficult task for one trained as he had been. Like his comrades of the Dakota, he was never separated from his flint and steel, and soon a heap of dead sticks was sending up a bright blaze, irradiating a circle perhaps twenty yards in diameter, beyond which the heavy darkness hung like an impenetrable curtain.

As the ground was damp from the melting of the light snow around the fire, he secured enough dry boughs and sticks to make a flooring before the trunk of one of the great trees, and he sat down upon it with his back to the tree and his face to the flames. Then, wrapped closely in his robes and with his bow and quiver across his knees, he waited for sleep. The sticks were of tough wood and would burn long, for which he was glad, as with both the stream and the fire near he would not be lonely. Both were talking in merry fashion.

The waters sang of the great leap they were going to take in the dark, though they feared not because the sunshine lay beyond the dim caverns, and the flames chattered back. They would die, but before dying they would send up sparks to be taken by the winds and swept away into the bright heavens. Will’s dozing brain comprehended all they said and he listened to the pleasant chatter of fire and water.

“I flow on forever,” said the water. “The great ocean receives me at last, but I am not lost in it.”

“I send my sparks toward the heavens,” said the fire, “and they are taken into the bright clouds which pour back in gold over the earth.”

“I am clean and joyous of heart,” said the water, “I harm no one. I am life.”

“I drive away cold and I warm the soul. I, too, am life,” said the fire. “I bring light into the dark.”

“The grass and the flowers spring up under my touch,” said the water.

Will felt that the claims of both fire and water were justified. Each was vital, each was life, and theirs was a noble competition. The fire began to sink a little, but as the sticks of wood were damp and they were many, the heap would burn a long time. The water ran on, unchanged in volume, and he knew that its pleasant trickle would still be there, neither louder nor softer than it was in the night. But in the darkness the fire was worth more to him than the brook. It gave light and heat and therefore physical comfort in a night that was uncommonly black. Looking up from the floor of the valley as from the bottom of a well, he saw a dark, brooding sky, unflecked by a single star. All around him the circling blackness was moving up closer and closer as the light from the flames dwindled and was less able to push it back.

Yet Will felt comfort of both body and spirit. His bruises were forgotten. He remembered only the miracle that had saved him in so great a fall, the vast, bank of snow plunging down beneath him and receiving him like a huge feather bed in its bosom. It was a good omen. He would climb the steep path the next morning and surprise the Dakota by appearing among them alive and well. What a tale he could spin! Not Hoton himself could boast of having fallen five hundred feet to alight with just a few bruises.

His eyelids drooped and then he dozed, the fire wavering dimly before him and the black forest seeming to move up, as if it would circle his throat and compress it. He came suddenly out of his drowsiness. Ice flowed down his spine and the hair on the back of his neck stood up, straight and stiff. His heart stopped beating for a moment and then leaped wildly. He became conscious, not through eye or ear but by some sixth or even seventh sense, that he was not alone in the valley. He did not know by what process of divination he knew it, but he never felt a doubt. A mighty effort of will and he steadied his leaping heart. His hands crept to his bow and quiver, but otherwise he did not move. His dark figure blended with the mighty trunk against which he sat, and only a careful observer would have noticed him.

Not a sound came to him. Eye and ear registered nothing, but still he did not doubt. The warning had been given, how he knew not, but perhaps it was one of the good spirits telling him in a wordless voice to beware. Slowly he bent the great elkhorn bow and fitted an arrow in the notch.

Ready to shoot on the instant, he watched the darkness beyond the fire, and on the right and left. The massive trunk of the tree, seven or eight feet through, put ample protection behind him. At last he heard a light shuffling noise, but, trained in the ways of the wilderness, he knew that it was made by the feet of a great animal put down slowly. No doubt it had scented its prey and was coming for it, stalking it with the caution of all the great carnivora.

At first he could not place the sound definitely. It might be beyond the fire or at one side. It is hard even for a trained ear to locate a light noise, but, concentrating every faculty upon the task, because dire necessity was pressing hard, he decided that it was just across the coals. He watched there with all the power he could put into his eyes and slowly a darker figure detached itself from the general darkness, the vast, hulking form that belonged to the great bear of the north, a flesh eater, if flesh were near, and all the more dangerous because, unknowing man, it had no knowledge of man’s weapons.

Will’s blood ran cold. How he longed for his comrades, the valiant Dakota! With Inmu on one side of him, the brave boaster on the other, and the rest nearby, he would have defied anything, but it was wholly different to be alone in the dark, at the bottom of a great well, with this frightful beast just across the fire from him.

He saw the bear stare at the blaze, draw back a little, and then slouch toward the right. He hoped that it was going away, but it was merely moving slowly around the circle, and, in time, it would come to his tree and to him. He knew now that the animal had been drawn by the odor of flesh; that it was hungry and that it had no intention of departing without what it wanted. He did not yet rise, because he was in a good position and he kept his arms free. The temptation to shoot at the tremendous shambling bulk was almost overpowering, but he remembered all the lessons of Roka and Pehansan. When one’s life was at stake one must strike at the right time, or the stroke was lost, and life with it.

The great bear came on around the circle, beginning to puff a little as he drew in his heavy breath, and Will, able to see his red eyes, rose slowly to his feet, his back to the huge tree, and bent the great elkhorn bow. His body felt fear, it was cold with it, but his will controlled and his arm was never steadier, as the splendid bow bent slowly back. Choosing the throat, he sped the arrow, and, snatching another from the quiver, he shot in an instant at the throat again.

He did not expect to inflict a mortal wound with one arrow or with two, but he hoped to stop the rush of the mad brute. The bear reared to its full height, growled horribly and dripped with blood. But it stood only for a second, then it dropped upon its four paws and lunged forward at a speed marvelous for a beast so large and apparently so awkward. Will leaped to one side, circling swiftly about the fire, which he knew now was his chief ally, and shot arrow after arrow into the monstrous bulk. The bear at last, blinded by its own blood and wild with pain, plunged directly into the fire, knocking the brands in every direction and almost putting them out. A horrible smell of burnt hair and flesh arose and the huge brute, now wholly mad, charged at random beyond the circle of firelight, and into the dark woods, Will planting two more arrows in its body as it went.

He heard the monster panting and growling, the tearing of vines and bushes, and then a silence in which, his muscles and spirit relaxing, he sank down by the remains of his scattered fire. He did not remain in that attitude long. He was too conscious of his danger. The wounded bear might come back, of he might have brothers or cousins, just as terrible, who would come in his place. He hastily put the burning sticks together again and then built another fire about twenty feet away, and even went so far as to put a third on his right. He would be surrounded by flames and no beast on earth would cross that barrier to reach him.

Work and the certainty of safety brought back his strength and spirits. His mood even became exultant. Once more he had defeated the great bear. Watakapa (Bow) was his deadly weapon, and Peta (Fire) was his defender. With Watakapa to attack and with Peta to stand as a wall before him, he was more than a match for Warankxi, no matter how large and strong. He was so buoyant and so confident that he lay down within his fiery circle and slept soundly until dawn.

When Will awoke a flood of gold was pouring into the great well, at the bottom of which he lay. The snow, loosened by the warmth, was falling in lacy flakes from the white umbrellas above him. The stream of green water chattered and sang as pleasantly as ever of the long caverns and great rivers through which it would pass, until it found its home in the infinite sea. What was the huge bear of the north or any other kind of monster to it? It flowed by them all, unnoticing.

Will drank of the cold water, warmed his food over the fire, and ate breakfast. He was glad the day was bright. He had been a victor in the night, but he did not like the darkness while he was alone there in the valley. He remembered how his blood had chilled and his hair had stood up at the first faint sound of those shuffling footsteps beyond the circle of firelight. He did not want to go through such an experience again, and he meant to start in a half hour for the path he had marked in the wall.

He noted great spots of blood that the bear had left and he followed them forty or fifty yards until they entered the stream. Probably the beast had tried to assuage his pain with water and he may have waded a long distance with the current. At another time Will’s curiosity might have made him follow, but he was too anxious now to climb out of the valley. He returned to his camp and scattered the coals of his fire. The green stream was still murmuring joyously and he understood it very well. It said to him anew to be of good heart, and that all things were won by the brave.

He fastened his pack, which yet contained food enough for three or four days, securely on his back and adjusted his bow and quiver over his shoulder, as he would need both hands in climbing. The revolver, hatchet and knife were in his belt. He had lost nothing from his equipment and he would return to his comrades, as fit in strength and in weapons, as he was when he left them so suddenly.

Although he anticipated no attack in the brilliant morning, he kept his hand on the butt of the loaded revolver. If there was one great bear in the valley— and he knew there was one—there might be two, or more, and he was on his guard against a sudden rush from the bushes. He reached the place where the steep trail, not much more than a crevice between the rocks, led up, and at once began the ascent, difficult in the extreme and made possible only by the dwarfed shrubs that grew in the shallow soil accumulated along the ledges. He had never undertaken a task slower or more strenuous. He tested every new shrub to see if it would bear his weight, before loosing his hold on an old one, and now and then he grasped a projection of rock in order to draw himself up. Surmounting a crag larger than the rest, he sat upon it with his legs dangling, and his body pushed back against the wall.

He took one glance downward from his slender support and was amazed to find that he had climbed not more than twenty feet. The look upward was easier, because it did not make his head swim, but the crest of the cliff seemed as high as ever. The distance he had come so painfully counted in the total as nothing. He refused to be discouraged. He recalled what Roka or Pehansan or Inmu would do under the same conditions, and, after a rest of a few minutes, he resumed the dangerous ascent.

He had about doubled the distance when he was conscious of a hovering shadow over him, and very near. He looked up. There was the huge eagle again, vast in sweep of wing and with fierce head poised. He felt a shiver of horror. He was quite sure that it was going to attack him, and he was nailed against the wall of stone, almost helpless. He shouted, but the great eagle, circling and swooping, came nearer and nearer. The rush of air from its wings fanned his face, and the beak and claws, sharp and hard as steel, cut alarmingly near.

Will paused and clung tightly to the cliff. One foot rested in a small crevice, the other was supported by a slight projection, and his left hand clutched a small shrub that grew in a crack of the stone, where earth had been deposited by the winds. The other hand was free, held in reserve to meet the rush of the eagle. It passed near him, then circled below him, although he did not dare to look down for fear of becoming dizzy, and he hoped that it would go away, but he soon heard the heavy sweep of its wings again.

The eagle, as the bear had been, seemed mad with fury. Did it look upon him as something to be eaten? Did it regard him as an interloper and therefore an enemy in a secluded valley, or was it a female with a nest near by and in fear for its young? Whatever the cause, Will, on his perilous perch, recognized that it was extremely dangerous.

The eagle was over his head now, and it swooped down, not making a direct attack, but he was struck on the shoulder by one of the heavy wings. The blow was no light one, and his whole figure shook. But his left hand gripped the bush with the clutch of death, and his toes fairly dug into the stone. Then a fierce anger seized him that he should be assailed thus by a bird, when he meant no harm to anybody or anything, and mingled with it was humiliation that he should be almost helpless clinging to the side of a cliff.

It was impossible for him, in his situation, to use bow and arrow, and he remembered the loaded revolver swinging in his belt. He drew it with his free right hand, and then apprehension and mortification alike gave way to a fierce sense of coming triumph. It might be an eagle far beyond the average in size and ferocity, but it knew nothing of bullets. It would soon learn. He steadied himself against the stone and waited. The eagle was flying in undulating curves several hundred yards away, as if it were gathering impetus for a tremendous swoop. Will’s spirits had come back with such a bound that he challenged it vocally.

“Come on, Wanmdi!” he cried. “I’ve a comrade of your name, but he isn’t like you! He’s good and true! He would not attack anybody who was engaged in a struggle to save his life and who wasn’t harming him! But make the biggest and swiftest swoop you can! I’ve a little piece of metal waiting for you and you won’t like it!”

It was evident that Wanmdi was going to take him at his word, as the undulating curves brought it nearer and it poised itself for the final swoop. Will, feeling his imminent peril, gave his will absolute command over his body, and, holding the revolver firmly but lightly, waited. He would not fire at the head. He could not hope, hanging as he was, to hit such a small and fleeting target, but he would aim at the center of the great feathered mass that was the body.

The eagle, having risen above him, suddenly came down with a slanting rush, and, with amazing power over his nerves, he waited until it was so close he could not miss. Then he pulled trigger and sent his bullet directly at the target he had chosen. The assailant was so near that he fancied he heard the thud on the feathers. A harsh screaming followed, the great body dropped, recovered, rose slowly and wheeled in aimless circles, while Will distinctly saw drops of blood falling from it. Again fierce exultation seized him. His life had been sought, and he had saved it.

“I warned you, Wanmdi!” he shouted. “I told you I meant you no harm! I was merely seeking to escape from this valley! You would come against the metal pellet, and now that you have got it in you how do you like it?”

It was evident that the eagle liked it not at all. Despite its vast sweep of wing, it wavered as it continued to wheel in aimless circles, but at last, gathering strength, it rose above the rim of the cliffs, and disappeared in the east with a welcome from Will for its going. He returned the revolver to his belt, rested himself a few minutes, and then resumed his slow climbing. He now saw that thirty or forty yards above him the ascent became less steep. The bushes grew more thickly there and seemed to be stronger. He felt that when he reached it he would be in a haven and the rest of the ascent would be easy.

He was a full half hour in covering the distance and when he came to the more gradual slope he plunged among the bushes, where there was plenty of support, and breathed great sighs of thanks. Snow was there, but he did not mind it, and he lay at least five minutes, allowing strength to flow back into his tired muscles, and the overstrained nerves to steady themselves. He had divined that the ribbon of bushes would lead to a broad shelf and that beyond the shelf the ascent would be easier than ever.

When he felt himself fully restored he began to climb, now almost on hands and knees, but before he had gone many yards he noticed a faint, hostile odor tainting the pure mountain air. It seemed to come from above, and looking up he saw, as he had expected, that the slope of bushes ended in a shelf. But sitting upon the shelf, regarding him intently with evil eyes, was a monstrous figure, that of the great king wolf.

Will was struck with horror. He saw the malignant triumph in the eyes of the huge brute, as he barred the path, the only path that led from the valley. Then he went quite mad himself. It was surely a demon beast that pursued him with so much malice and pertinacity, but he was not in such an awkward position as he had been when he lay against the cliff beating off the attack of the eagle. He fixed his feet firmly against the strong stems of the bushes, and, half lying, half sitting, drew an arrow from the quiver and bent his bow. In his anger he called out:

“O Xunktokeca, you are the largest, the most powerful, and the fiercest of your kind, and you undertake to bar my way, but you can’t! The metal pellet drove away the eagle, and the sharp shaft of bone that I have here will bite into your heart!”

The wolf did not stir, but still gazed down at him with eyes of malicious triumph. To the straining youth below his form continually grew larger, but he bent the bow and placed the arrow. Then the wolf drew back suddenly, and became invisible. Will realized that the shelf was broader than it appeared to be from below, and the last approach to it also was so steep that he would have to use both hands there for climbing.

He credited the wolf at once with full human wisdom and more than human cunning and malignity. Whenever he aimed an arrow the beast could take instant cover, and, if he tried the last climb to the shelf, he would be at the mercy of those monstrous teeth and claws. He broke into a cold perspiration as he recognized the fearful ingenuity of the brute’s plan. It had probably been sitting there, all the time, while he fought with the eagle and had wished him to win the combat in order that the wolf himself might have his full triumph. Will saw everything through the eyes of a primordial being who credited animals with a cunning as great as his own.

“Come out, you coward!” he cried in his ungovernable anger. “Why do you hide, Xunktokeca! Only cowards hide!”

But Xunktokeca was no coward, neither was he foolish. He remained invisible, while Will waited in vain for him to reappear. Then the baffled youth understood that taunts would be of no avail. He looked around for some other point to which he could climb, but there was none. Nor could he remain forever on the side of a cliff. But one path was open to him, and that was the descent that led back to the valley.

Burning with rage and mortification, he replaced the bow and quiver over his shoulders, and began with infinite care the dangerous slope. Two steps and he looked up. There was the wolf, standing on the shelf again, and gazing at him with those eyes of ferocity in which he now also read malignant triumph. Clinging tightly with the other hand, Will clenched a fist and shook it at him.

“It’s your hour, O Xunktokcca!” he called. “You have barred the way! But remember that my arrow may yet bite deep into your vitals!”

The wolf stood there, unmoving, while Will made the descent, which was more perilous than the ascent had been, and the latter was dangerous enough. He refused to look up again, until he stood once more on the floor of the valley, and then he collapsed in a heap, lying there a long time, until the spell had fully passed.

But it was not in the nature of him whom the Dakota called Waditaka to remain despondent long. The heights were barred to him, but there was the valley, and somehow or other he would find a way out of it, sooner or later. He rose to his feet, pulled himself together, body and soul, and surveyed once more the lofty and circling rim of stone that walled the valley in. He could not see the wolf on the ledge nor the eagle in the air. Both Xunktokeca and Wanmdi were gone, but he knew that Xunktokeca, at least, would be on watch should he try the steep again. And it was likely, too, that Warankxi was loose in the valley. It might not be the same great bear that had attacked him, but his brothers and cousins could come.

Nevertheless, Waditaka was not afraid. Standing on the level ground, he had ample room for the use of his bow and arrows, and, in the last resort, there was the revolver in his belt, with plenty of cartridges. He went back to his place between the big tree and the stream, and built his fire anew. Fire never failed him. It always stood between him and his foes, and before night came he would light two more fires, thus making an inviolable circle, in the center of which he might sleep in safety. But he knelt first by the green stream. It had talked to him pleasantly, and had given him assurance of success before he assailed the cliff. What was it saying now?

“Be of good faith, O, Waditaka,” murmured the green waters. “The time will come when you shall escape from the valley, even as I do, though not by the same path. One failure does not daunt the brave, nor two, nor three. Wait and hope, Waditaka.”

“I not only wait and hope, O Mini (Water), I know,” he replied. “I never doubt for an instant that I shall scale the cliffs and rejoin my friends.”

Mini laughed. Will knew it was so, because the voice of the stream grew louder. Many bubbles, flashing in yellow and green and purple and all the other colors of the rainbow, formed on its surface and broke merrily. If that was not laughter, encouraging laughter, then he did not know what laughter was.

“I thank thee, O Kadusa (Stream). You have put new heart into me,” he said. “Even as you go under the mountain, I will go over it.”

“And what is more,” he said to himself, as he turned away, “I will take my line and hook out of my pack tomorrow and catch some of those big trout I saw in the deep pools.”

While he had been tremendously shaken by his experiences on the cliff, he was in fine trim now. If he saw no way out of the valley at present, surely his comrades would come there and find him. The Dakota would never desert him, and he did not understand why they had not come already. They must be searching for him now, and, to help them, he built his central fire to a great height, piling on vast quantities of wood, which was abundant everywhere, until it sent up a lofty column of smoke, rising far above the valley, and tapering into a blue spire high in the heavens. It was a splendid signal and it had beauty also, making a strong appeal. It seemed to him that he was setting his banner in the skies for all to see, and he wondered why he had not thought of it before.

While the tall bonfire burned he went along the stream to the point where it had been entered by the bear. The big spots of blood remained on the bank, but, though he followed the current for some distance, he could not see any place at which the great beast had emerged. But as the shores were rocky farther on he concluded that the fact had hidden the traces from his eyes. Doubtless the bear had a den in the rocks at the foot of the cliff, and, if there were others of his kind, they would be hidden away in the same manner. He would not make any diligent search farther. If they let him alone, he was more than content to leave them alone.

He took hook and line from his pack, found the usual bait in the soft earth under a stone, and went to one of the deep pools in the stream. He meant to have trout and he had no doubt these were among the most splendid of their splendid kind. He had striven fiercely with bear, eagle and wolf, but now the milder ambitions of the fisherman were roused within him, but he did not forget caution. When he dropped hook and line into the stream, he also placed the loaded revolver by his side on the bank. He did not intend to become a trapped fisherman.

Although no line had ever before been dropped into those waters, the trout were as wary as Waditaka himself. But his acquired gift of Indian patience stood him in good stead, and one bit at last. Playing him skillfully, he landed him, and, as he soon caught a second, he considered two quite enough. He broiled them on the coals before his great fire, and nothing that he had ever eaten tasted better.

“I may be a prisoner in your valley,” he said to the green stream, “but you will always bring me plenty of food of the finest kind.”

“We hold you, but we do not treat you ill,” the pleasant waters murmured back. “I shall always have fish for your taking, O, Waditaka. There are worse places in the world than this green valley of mine. Again I bid you be of good cheer, O, Waditaka.”

And Waditaka responded:

“I had no thought of being otherwise, O, joyous waters!”

Then he did more work on his fire, building it higher and higher until it seemed to him that the blue spire rising into the topmost heavens must be visible over a circle of fifty miles. Surely Roka and the others would see it, and he would be discovered by tomorrow night at the farthest.

Having dined well and being warm through and through, he fell asleep, wrapped in his robe, between the fires, and so sound were his slumbers that he never stirred once during the night. The great bear that he had wounded came back through the woods, licking his hurts, and eager for revenge, and another came with him, but when they saw the edge of light from the fires, and smelled the burning wood, the monstrous beasts, that feared nothing living, were afraid of this terrible red thing that might be torn into countless pieces, and yet every piece would continue to inflict frightful pain. To attack it merely meant to make a thousand indestructible foes where only one existed before.

The wounded bear felt the man smell strong in his nostrils. He knew that it was the odor of the creature who had shot the arrows into him, and he was anxious to rush in and tear him to pieces, but the red flare held him back. With his comrade he advanced slowly a few paces, their huge hulks making no noise, and then they paused, gazing with frightened eyes at the flames which roared and crackled and said to them very plainly:

“Come on, Warankxi! You are monstrous and powerful! You can pull down the greatest buffalo that ever lived, then why do you hesitate when you see us? We are often little and slender. A wind may make us vanish into nothingness. We have neither hoofs nor claws nor horns. We cannot shoot arrrows like Wicaxta (Man), who lies sleeping surrounded by us. But you dare not touch us, and you dare not touch Wicaxta, who kindled us into life. And because he has kindled us into life we protect him against Warankxi, Xunktokeca, Inmutanka, Wanmdi and all the beasts and birds of prey! Come on, Warankxi! Are you afraid of a thin red spire that is little more than air itself, and that the next puff of wind may send forever into the dark? Are you a coward, O Warankxi? Look, Wicaxta is asleep! He is like one dead! You might be upon him before he could reach for his bow or his pistol! His strength compared with yours is no more than that of a weed in a storm! Only we protect him because he has made us rise out of nothingness and dwell for a little space in the good air. You are a coward, Warankxi, you and your comrade, too! Look! You give back! You turn and you will run!”

The two bears were withdrawing fearfully. They understood very clearly what Peta (the Fire) was saying. The desire to seize upon Wicaxta and tear him to pieces was immense, but he was guarded around by the little red spirits, flitting and wavering, but omnipotent. Of all the gods known to Warankxi, Peta was by far the most powerful. In truth, he was invincible. No bear or any other beast that ever lived had ever conquered him or ever would. They drew back beyond the faintest gleam from the fire, but Peta only laughed in disdain.

“Are you gone, O Warankxi?” Peta roared and crackled. “As we said, big and fierce as you are, you are a coward when you face us! Never will you take Wicaxta when we stand about him!”

And Wicaxta, known to the whites as Will Clarke, and to the Sioux as Waditaka, awoke at dawn from a night of deep peace and perfect safety.

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