Adventure Magazine Cover — page 139: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Baldy at the Brink inch by inch it seemed, Baldy slipped down that treacherous shoulder. Her feet were wide flung, her belly low to that steepen- ing, almost vertical bulge, as she fought frantically to save herself. Pete yelled, and flung the rope with all his strength toward Eben, who could have saved her, perhaps, from above. But the rope fell short, and the loose end flung itself like a leaping snake into the cafion below. Then one of Baldy’s hind feet found the butt of the tree, and she instantly flattened herself against the curve of the rock and became still. Had she made a further effort to save herself now she must certainly have slipped over the shoulder into the warring rapids of the Snowbeard, down there below. The wise old horse, however, made no further move, but lay still upon her belly, waiting for the men to figure it out. Speaking gently, moving by inches, the men approached. Eben secured the long rope, retied it with swift fingers, that it might strangle her no more, and went with it to the top of the shoulder. There he sat down with his feet braced against an irregularity in the rock, and prepared to fight gravity to the last of his strength. His partner, cheekbones flushed above the cottony white of his mustache, slowly un- fastened Baldy’s pack, and managed to push its component parts to safety on the lesser slopes above. Then he joined Eben, and they began a tug of war against space. “Come on Baldy!” Together they heaved on the rope, and with a wild scramble Baldy came up the slippery rock to safe footing once more. There was no congratulation in their eyes as the two men looked at each other. “We've done it now,” said Pete. “*Baldy’ll never cross that stick.”’ “‘She’s got to cross it,” answered Eben doggedly. ‘‘We’ll blindfold her, an’ get her on it!” “It’s the only chance,” Pete agreed; but he shook his head hopelessly. ‘‘Let’s tie her here, an’ tote the pack stuff over first. It’ll leave her time to steady, some.” They loaded themselves with the great blob-like bundles from Baldy’s pack, and, leaving Baldy tied to a tiny bush this time, walked steadily across the moaning abyss. Two trips were necessary before everything was across. As they rested for a moment on the farther rim, Pete looked at his watch, 137 and turned solemn eyes on his lank partner. ‘Gettin’ on toward our last chance, Eben.”” The endless fooling with the stubborn horse had consumed far more time than they would have believed, even while their impatience made each delay seem long. “What time is it?” “Most noon,” said Pete. day’s leeway is purty near gone. hoss race, now, Eben.” They turned toward the tree again with the resolute movements of men who make a “Our half It'll be a last grim bid for fortune. Suddenly Eben’s eyes blazed. “Baldy’s gone!’ he jerked out. ‘‘She’s pawed off her hackamore!”’ Pete snapped a fierce glance over the looming topography opposite them. ‘There she goes up that —— gulley,” he spat out. ‘‘We ain’t got no more time to lose. Git across there, Eben!” Leaping and sliding, they plunged down- hill toward the tree. Eben, racing in the lead with great plunging strides, rocketed among the upper branches, gained his balance by seizing an upstanding limb, and ran out along the trunk; Pete was close at his heels. Cra-ack! One of the limbs that had braced the fallen tree top sagged and gave way, letting the top end of the trunk drop a foot, then another. Eben slipped, and his feet shot downward toward the frothing rocks and waters below. His long arms snatched instinctively for the trunk, and for a moment he dangled a hundred feet above the Snowbeard. Crack! The trunk gave downward a little more, turning as if deliberately trying to drop the old man into the cafion’s snarling space. Pete flung himself out of the tree top to safe ground. “She’s going, Eben! back!” Steadily, almost deliberately, Eben clam- bered back on to the trunk. It seemed to his partner that his movements were in- credibly slow as he strode back along that slowly rolling, slipping log toward safety. Crack-crack! The tree jolted downward another foot, and Eben almost fell. “For God’s sake—Eben!”’ With a great leap and a scramble Eben got his feet on solid ground. A limb, twisted by the slow, increasing movement of the great tree, snapped upward and over, Git back! Git CO OO) ANG S (C@