CHAPTER XXI

THE NARROW LEDGE

Little was discussed in the days that followed but the avalanche.

It was to be a tremendous spectacle and a great deal of preparation was necessary to insure an artistic filming of it.

Ruth and Tom had found what they considered an ideal location--a mountain, rising almost perpendicularly skyward, and at its base a few squat, rambling little cabins.

Ruth had been forced to pay a ridiculously high sum for these cabins. But Tom and she figured that to erect others, no matter how flimsily built, would cost even more. Fortunately, not all the cabins were occupied. Had they been, the Fielding Film Company never could have afforded the price. Some had been deserted long since and were falling to pieces. As Helen laughingly declared, it would be “a mercy to put them out of the way.”

In the picture, bandits were supposed to descend upon the little mining town, robbing, pillaging, and, after a strenuous fight, capturing the heroine, Ann Marks, and her handsome cowboy lover.

After binding the pair securely, the bandits, alarmed at the sound of pursuit, were to fling their victims into one of the deserted cabins and make off.

As they dash about the side of the mountain the avalanche, tons of dirt and rock from the mountainside, overtakes them, burying them beneath its weight and wrecking most of the cabins.

Of course the bandits are to be engulfed by the landslide while the cabin in which the lovers were imprisoned would miraculously escape the full force of the avalanche. Though partly buried beneath débris, the roof of the cabin holds and the hero and heroine, severing their bonds, are at last able to struggle through to sunlight and safety.

Of course Ruth and Boardman were not to remain in the cabin during the avalanche. These, as well as Tom and the rest of the company who were to be imperiled by the landslide, had planned to take refuge in a cave at the foot of the mountain. This cave was so situated that it would escape the débris of the avalanche.

Then one day, when everything was almost ready, Ruth had an accident that came near to putting her out of the reckoning entirely.

She and Helen, with Boardman and Tom, had climbed halfway up the mountainside to inspect the little shack where the dynamite was stored and to give last minute directions for the preparation of the landslide.

“All the dynamite that isn’t used for the avalanche must be removed as far as possible from the scene before the landslide takes place,” Ruth observed.

“I’ve already given orders to that effect,” Tom assured her, and the girl squeezed his arm affectionately. Dear old Tom, always so dependable.

Then it was that Ruth, in an impulsive moment, precipitated disaster upon herself.

She stepped out upon the little ledge of rock and soft dirt from which one might stare down at the precipitous slope of the mountain.

They had come by a circuitous route, a little path that wound snakelike, clinging close to the mountainside. But at this point, rocky and menacing, the mountain seemed to forbid descent.

“I wonder if any one could get down from here,” she said curiously. “I declare, I’d like to try!”

At the moment the soft earth crumbled treacherously from beneath her feet! Ruth flung herself backward--but too late. Before any one could reach her, Ruth was gone--had disappeared completely over the lip of the ledge.

Tom sprang forward, flung out his arm to catch the girl. But the whole thing, the terrible, incredible thing, happened so swiftly that he missed his grip and felt only her dress slide tantalizingly through his fingers.

Now, grim-lipped, he knelt and peered over the ledge.

Behind him Helen, terror-stricken, was wailing:

“Ruth! Ruth! She’ll be killed on those rocks!”

“Keep still!” Tom commanded roughly. He looked up to see Boardman at his side. It needed only a glance to tell him that Boardman had seen also.

Ruth hung there, not ten feet below, grasping the slight trunk of a sapling, feeling for a foothold with her feet on the smooth, treacherous rock.

Tom’s mind worked quickly. Only a few feet below Ruth was a ledge of rock. It was only about two feet wide; still it was enough, provided one jumping from a height of fifteen feet could judge the distance accurately and keep his balance once he landed.

“Hold fast!” he called to Ruth, praying that she would have strength to hold her weight until he could get to her. “It’s all right, girl. Catch hold with your other hand. I’m coming down.”

Layton Boardman, behind him, had seen what Tom was about about to do and was protesting.

“It’s a crazy stunt! You’ll kill yourself, man!”

Tom gave him a look.

“Maybe,” he said briefly. “Meanwhile, go for a rope. Get help here as quickly as you can. Hurry.”

Boardman stopped no more to argue. There was something in Tom’s tone that compelled obedience.

He turned and ran down the trail they had traversed only a short time before. Helen, clinging to a tree, shaking, white, called to Tom.

“If I can do anything----”

“You can pray,” said Tom softly, and let himself over the lip of the ledge.

Ruth was still clinging to the tree, gazing up at him, wide-eyed, terrified.

“Tom, don’t do it! You will kill yourself! I’m all right! I can hold on till some one gets a rope. Tom! Go back! Go back!”

“Save your strength, Ruth. I’m coming.”

With a prayer in his heart, Tom lowered himself till he hung only by his fingers to the treacherous ledge. There was a tree, a sapling like that to which Ruth clung, close to that ledge fifteen feet below. Would he be able to grasp that? Upon that possibility, he knew, his fate hung, and Ruth’s as well.

The girl could never sustain her weight until Boardman returned with a rope and help. Her fingers would become numb, gradually slip their hold----

Tom allowed himself no further time for reflection. Swinging his body away from the cliff, he let go his hold, felt himself dropping! Would he reach the ledge? Could he keep his balance?

The sharp edges of rocks, of rough earth, tore at him, raking his hands and face, but he scarcely felt them.

Down, down, and then a jarring thump that made him reel dizzily backward. With all the force of his body he flung himself forward and reached out desperately.

The tree--the tree--his feet were slipping--he had it--the blessed feel of the rough bark under his fingers!

Tom drew himself against the face of the cliff and clung there for a moment to regain his breath.

The worst, the hardest part, was still to come. And it must come soon, he knew that.

Even in the moment that he rested, Ruth’s voice called down to him.

“Tom! Tom, are you all right?”

“All right, dear. Can you hold on a minute more?”

“I--I guess so,” Ruth’s voice was not so confident as it had been. “My fingers--I’m afraid I’m losing my grip.”

“All right! Now listen carefully and I’ll tell you what to do. I’m right beneath you, Ruth. See--I can touch your foot. Rest it a moment in my hand--that’s the girl! Now, when you drop, keep close to the side of the cliff. Let yourself go. I’ll catch you.”

“Let go! Oh, Tom, I can’t!” Ruth’s voice sounded breathless, faint. “That terrible drop!”

“You’ve got to do it, Ruth. There’s no other way. I’ll catch you.”

“All right!” came valiantly and in a louder tone. “Are you ready?”

“Ready!” replied Tom, and braced himself.