Chapter XXXII: The Bond Is Sealed

The perspiration stood out like little particles of frost on Westy’s forehead.

“What,” he asked himself, “has happened?”

Had Fate inevitably overtaken Artie after all? He couldn’t and just wouldn’t believe it! So raising the lantern above his head he swung it over the hollow that it might penetrate every niche of it. Then peering eagerly, he caught sight of a foot sticking out from under the projecting rock. His heart felt as if it had dropped a couple of inches, for the fact that Artie was lying there prostrate was perfectly evident.

Tying the rope around the lantern as best he could, considering that his maimed hand was little or no use, he lowered it carefully into the hollow. A sound emanated from below, and to Westy, who was expecting the worst, it sounded like some one groaning.

“Whassa matter?” the voice said in guttural tones. “Haven’t you got any sense? Letting the sun shine in my face like that, huh? Lot of feeling you got for a guy, I’ll tell the world!”

“The Lord have mercy on us,” reverently exclaimed Westy, “he’s delirious!”

“Delirious, my eyebrow!” the voice, now assuredly Artie’s, replied. “M’gosh, zat you, Wes?”

“Bet your life!” answered Westy, with a heartfelt sigh of deep relief. Then: “How do you feel, Art? Think you can stand being hoisted up now?”

“Say now!” replied Artie, gazing gratefully up at Westy’s worried countenance. “How do you get that way? Can I stand it? Well, I guess!”

“All right then,” Westy murmured dubiously, “you better keep the lantern, Art, and tie the rope around your waist. I’ve got the other end O.K. Think you can manage to tie it?”

“Tie it?” Artie couldn’t seem to comprehend.

“Yes,” said Westy and then with hesitancy, “Will you be able to, I mean!”

“Well,” exclaimed Artie, “I’ll be blistered! Whatcha think I am, Wes, a cripple?”

“You can bet I don’t think any such thing when you can talk that way.”

“That’s better, Wes; but say, where are my enemies?”

“The eagles?”

“Sure! What a foolish thing to ask. Who else would I be inquiring about so solicitously?”

“I don’t like to hurry you, Art, but we can’t spare any more time gossiping like a couple of old ladies over a clothesline. Our friends won’t be much longer in digging out their progeny. Not only that but it’s imperative we get back to Uncle Jeb as quick as possible, if you feel up to it!”

There were many questions and remarks that Artie would have liked to voice at that moment, but he realized that the seriousness of Westy’s tone forbade it. He told him to go ahead and tie the rope to the tree and when he felt the tug he’d start.

It was like witnessing some one arising from the dead for Westy to see the familiar form of his friend come safely over the edge of the precipice. There was joy ringing in his soul and tears in his eyes, when he saw him get to his feet and untie the rope from around his waist. Westy rushed forward and put both his hands on Artie’s shoulders.

“Gee, Art!” he said chokingly, “able to stand all right and all, huh?”

“Sure,” Artie answered with a catch in his voice, affected by Westy’s emotion, and then to cheer him: “I’m standing all right, but I suppose I’ll feel like a pretzel for the next few days, until I get the kinks out from sitting down all wound around myself.”

“Same ol’ Artie! Then you weren’t hurt at all?”

“Hurt? When?”

“When I first called you.”

“Search me! I didn’t know you were there until the lantern awakened me and you said something about me being delirious.”

“Awakened you? Then----”

“Sure. I must have fallen asleep. I don’t remember anything after I saw those enlarged screech owls fly away. No doubt their departure affected me to the point of exhaustion.”

“Well, I’ll be darned!” was all Westy could say. “You’ve an eye for slumber, I’ll say that. Come on now, old boy, we have something to do before the night is over, I’m afraid. Will you take these things from me now? Then I can walk faster.”

When Westy explained to him all that had occurred since he left the lake in the afternoon, he skipped lightly over the cause of his wounded hand. That he was in pain from it, Artie could almost feel in the darkness.

“And to think that you did all that for me, Wes!” he said, intense feeling in his words. “You’re the best scout that ever lived!”

They had left the lake and were going up the trail. Artie could think of no other way to express his heartfelt gratitude to this true and tried friend of his, so he put his arm out and about Westy’s shoulder firmly. Silently and hurriedly they went on through the dark, deep mountain forest, feeling in their hearts that the incidents of the day had served to cement a bond between them of loyalty and everlasting friendship that nothing could sever.

With his arm still about him, Artie seemed to feel that Westy’s step dragged and halted a little now and then.

“Bet you’re tired, Wes, huh?”

“Just a little, Art.”

The moon came out just then in all her silver splendor, lighting up the trail along their way. Artie grasped the opportunity to glance at Westy so as to smile his deep appreciation, and was dismayed to see that his face was white and his lips looked almost green in the moonlight.

Renewing his grip on Westy’s shoulder, he felt his body relax against his and saw his eyes close slowly.