Bob Hampton of Placer - Page 17/205

"Remain perfectly quiet," he whispered, panting heavily. "We can be no

safer anywhere else."

She could distinguish the rapid pounding of his heart as well as her

own, mingled with the sharp intake of their heavy breathing, but these

sounds were soon overcome by that of the tumult below. Shots and

yells, the dull crash of blows, the shouts of men engaged in a death

grapple, the sharp crackling of innumerable rifles, the inarticulate

moans of pain, the piercing scream of sudden torture, were borne upward

to them from out the blackness. They did not venture to lift their

heads from off the hard rock; the girl sobbed silently, her slender

form trembling; the fingers of the man closed more tightly about her

hand. All at once the hideous uproar ceased with a final yelping of

triumph, seemingly reechoed the entire length of the chasm, in the

midst of which one single voice pleaded pitifully,--only to die away in

a shriek. The two agonized fugitives lay listening, their ears

strained to catch the slightest sound from below. The faint radiance

of a single star glimmered along the bald front of the cliff, but

Hampton, peering cautiously across the edge, could distinguish nothing.

His ears could discern evidences of movement, and he heard guttural

voices calling at a distance, but to the vision all was black. The

distance those faint sounds appeared away made his head reel, and he

shrank cowering back against the girl's body, closing his eyes and

sinking his head upon his arm.

These uncertain sounds ceased, the strained ears of the fugitives heard

the crashing of bodies through the thick shrubbery, and then even this

noise died away in the distance. Yet neither ventured to stir or

speak. It may be that the girl slept fitfully, worn out by long vigil

and intense strain; but the man proved less fortunate, his eyes staring

out continually into the black void, his thoughts upon other days long

vanished but now brought back in all their bitterness by the mere

proximity of this helpless waif who had fallen into his care. His

features were drawn and haggard when the first gray dawn found ghastly

reflection along the opposite rock summit, and with blurred eyes he

watched the faint tinge of returning light steal downward into the

canyon. At last it swept aside those lower clinging mists, as though

some invisible hand had drawn back the night curtains, and he peered

over the edge of his narrow resting-place, gazing directly down upon

the scene of massacre. With a quick gasp of unspeakable horror he

shrank so sharply back as to cause the suddenly awakened girl to start

and glance into his face.