Chapter VII
RAVEN ROCKS
Bill Bolton dropped one of the gasoline tins he was carrying andgrasping the other with both hands, hurled its heavy bulk at thestranger. The tin caught the man full in the chest.
As he staggered back, Dorothy felt herself seized from behind. A quicktwist and pull sent her antagonist hurtling off to the right. It was notfor nothing she had put in long hours mastering the complicated throwsand holds of jiu jitsu, that strenuous art of Japanese wrestling.
She freed herself in time to see Bill crash his fist into the face of athird man.
"Come on!" he yelled, and they raced for the line of trees.
But their troubles were not over yet. Straight ahead and directly intheir path, another dark figure was leaping toward them. There was notime to dodge--to swerve. Bill dove at the man, stopping him short andbringing him to the ground with a clean tackle just above his knees. Theforce of contact was terrific. For the fraction of a second neither thetackler nor his opponent moved. Then as Dorothy, trembling withexcitement, bent over them, Bill scrambled to his feet.
"Are you hurt, Bill?" The girl's voice was breathless with concern.
"No--only winded--" he gasped. "Be all right--in a minute."
Dorothy gripped him by the arm and they trotted forward again, graduallyincreasing their speed as Bill regained his breath. From behind themcame the calls and angry shouts of their pursuers.
All at once, the inky black blur of the woods loomed before them.
"Keep along the edge of this pasture toward the wood road," Dorothywhispered quickly. "I'm going to start a false trail. Maybe we can foolthem. You get your breath--join you in a minute or two."
She sprang into the underbrush, crashing over low bushes, snapping deadtwigs and branches under foot with all the clatter of a terrified cow ina cane brake. Then the noise stopped as suddenly as it started, and Billwas surprised to hear her light footsteps at his heels.
"I want 'em to think we're hiding in there," she explained hurriedly."Can you run now?"
"You bet!"
They sped along the edge of the wood, spurred by the thought that theruse would delay their pursuers and perhaps throw them off the trailaltogether. From their rear came the sound of a rough voice issuingcommands. Men were beating the underbrush, cursing in the darkness.
Both Dorothy and Bill had got their second wind and were running muchmore easily now. Then Dorothy tripped on the uneven ground and wouldhave fallen had not Bill thrust out a steadying hand.
"Thanks," she said jerkily as she ran. "Look over my shoulder. Lightsback there."
"Wonder they didn't use 'em before," was Bill's only comment.
Dorothy slowed down to a fast walk and Bill also slackened his pace.
"We must be nearly there," she panted, "though since we had to drop thegasoline, there doesn't seem much use hiking over to the plane."
Bill nodded in the darkness. "Think we'd better get back to the house?"
"Yes; they'll never see us, especially now that they've got theirflashlights going--that glare will blind them. I vote we keep on alongthe valley until we pass the wood road, then swing across this pastureagain and up the hill till we strike the road. That will take us back tothe Conway place and--"
"Look!" Bill's exclamation arrested her, but his warning wasunnecessary. Far above, a sudden rift in the clouds brought a full mooninto view. The woods, the open pasture and the steep hill down whichthey had traveled almost blindly a few minutes before were now bathed inclear, silvery light as bright as day. As they dashed forward again, ashout from behind told them they had been seen.
"Stop or we'll fire!"
"There's the trail, Bill--it's our only chance!"
Men were calling to each other behind them and she caught the sound ofheavy feet pounding along in their wake. As she and Bill turned into thewood road and sped down its winding stretches under the arch ofintertwining boughs, a revolver cracked several times in quicksuccession. Overhead, the bullets went screaming through the branches.
"Shooting high to scare us," wheezed Bill. "'Fraid we're running into adead end."
"Maybe not--this moonlight won't last--clouds too heavy."
Dorothy wasted no more breath in speech. Her every effort was centeredin keeping up with the long legged young fellow who seemed to cover theground so easily and at such an amazing rate of speed.
Presently they swept out of the wagon-trail and into the glaringmoonlight of the woodlot. Shouts and calls from their pursuers but ashort distance behind now, lent wings to their feet. At the far end ofthe open space, Dorothy's amphibian lay parked where she had left it.
"Not that way!" warned Bill and caught her arm as she started to swingtoward the airplane. "Straight ahead!"
There was no time for argument. Dorothy swerved and dashed across thelot, following his lead. Straight ahead lay a narrow belt of woods whichended abruptly in precipitous cliffs towering upward almostperpendicularly for several hundred feet to the top of the ridge. WhatBill's plan might be, she could not guess. Those sheer palisadescertainly could not be scaled. What could his objective be? If theyturned up or down the valley the enemy would be sure to hear themtracking through the thick underbrush. And there would be no chance ofoutflanking the pursuit, for the men were between them and the Conwayhouse.
She and Bill were trapped at last--trapped by walls of rock and theencompassing passing ring of the enemy.
They reached the farther edge of the field where a hurried glance behindshowed them that the men were plunging out of the wood road. Then themoon, perhaps ashamed of the trouble he had brought them, swam awaybehind another cloud formation, and once again the world was sunk indarkness.
Bill's fingers gripped her hand.
"Follow me. Walk carefully and hold your arm before your face. It's acase of feel our way till we get used to the gloom--and there's no sensein losing an eye."
He led onward through the wood and although Dorothy could see nothingbut an opaque blackness before her eyes, Bill never hesitated in hisstride. With his hand behind his back, he pulled her forward as thoughguided by an uncanny knowledge of invisible obstructions in their path.
"How do you do it?" she marveled. "Don't tell me you can actually see tododge these branches and tree trunks?"
She heard him chuckle.
"Not _see_--feel. I learned the trick in the Florida swamps last summer.Osceola, chief of the Seminoles, taught me."
"Oh, yes! He's a wonder in the woods. How is it done?"
"Tell you sometime. Here we are--at the Stone Hill River. You'll have toget your feet wetter, I'm afraid, but it's only a small stream, notdeep. We turn right, here."
"Golly, it's cold!" Dorothy splashed into the water behind him.
"Brrr--I know it. Lift your feet high or you'll fall over theseboulders. And please try to make as little noise as possible."
From the direction of the woodlot came a prodigious crashing andthreshing. The pursuit had gained the woods.
"Noise!" she said scornfully, floundering along in his wake. "Thosethugs can't hear me--they're making too much racket themselves. Isuppose, Bill, you're working on a plan, but what it can be is a mysteryto me."
"You mean--where we're bound for?"
"Yes. We can't get back to the big pasture and the hill up to Stoker'shouse. They'll head off any play of that kind."
"I know that. Stand still a minute, I want to listen."
"But Bill--"
"Sh--yes, that must be it!"
"Must be what?" There was impatience in Dorothy's tone.
"The waterfall I was trying to find."
"You don't mean to tell me you're planning to crawl behind a waterfalland hide! Honestly, Bill, I--"
"Oh, nothing like that," he answered coolly, "the fall isn't bigenough."
"Look here, will you _please_--"
"All right, calm yourself. We haven't much time but I guess they've lostour trail f
or the time being. On the way over here in the car, Terrytold me something of the lay of the land. He's crazy about hiking, youknow, and mountain climbing. He's walked all over the reservation and heknows it like his own back yard."
"Yes, yes, what of it?"
"Well, Terry told me that there is just one possible way to get out ofthis Stony Hill River Valley on this side. That is, unless one goes amile or two up or down the valley. There are entrances to thereservation at either end--dirt roads that cross from the concreteturnpike over to this ridge above us."
"But there is a way out?"
"Yes. A sort of trail up the cliffs. It's not marked on the map of thereservation. Terry found it last summer. Pretty tough going even indaylight, I guess."
"But how on earth can we find it in the dark?"
"Terry told me that a smaller stream flowed into this creek at justabout this point, and that it drops into the river gully by way of a lowwaterfall. It was the sound of that fall I was listening for. Hear itjust over there to the right?"
"What's the next move?"
"We turn our backs on the waterfall, and cross this stream. The trailstarts in a kind of open chimney in the foot of the cliffs. The mapcalls these young precipices Raven Rocks, by the way. If you think it istoo dangerous, we can let those chaps catch us. They'll probably let usgo soon enough. They're trailing the wrong party, though they haven'trealized it. What do you say?" Bill's tone was non-committal.
"I know, they took you for Stoker Conway. But don't you see, Bill--" hertone was firm, "they must not find out their mistake. While they'retracking us, they will leave the Conway house alone, and that'll giveTerry and Stoker a chance to hunt for the book and the letter."
Bill's reply was flippant, but there was a note of relief in his voice."Chance to get a good night's rest, you mean!"
"They're not going to bed--" Dorothy pulled her companion toward theopposite bank of the stream. "Terry told me so."
"Thank goodness we're out of that," she exclaimed a moment later as theyclimbed the steep side of the gully. "If there's anything colder than atrout stream, I've yet to find it. I'm soaked nearly to my waist--howabout you?"
"Ditto. We'll be warm enough presently--just as soon as we hit RavenRocks."
"Wish we had raven's wings--we could use 'em!"
"Listen!" Bill stopped suddenly in his tracks.
"Don't _say_ that," she whispered--"reminds me of old man Lewis!"
"They're coming this way. I guess they got tired of beating the woodsfor us. Take my hand again. We've got to find that chimney."
They went perhaps ten paces more when Bill brought up short again.
"Here's the cliff--wait where you are--be back in a minute."
He drew his fingers from her clasp and she heard him move off. Standingin utter darkness she could hear the men splashing toward them along theshallow river bed, and still others tramping through the woods withflashing lights that moved nearer every second.
Not once did her alert mind question the advisability of trying to scaleRaven Rocks on a coal-black night. Not once did she waste a thought onthe danger of that perilous enterprise. Dorothy Dixon never counted thecost when it was to help a friend. Her entire attention was centered ontheir pursuers. Who they were, or why they sought George and his letterwere points of little consequence now. All that mattered was that theybe kept on their search for as many hours as possible.
Presently they would come abreast and their lights would pick her out atthe foot of the cliff. The sopping skirt of her frock sagged about herknees, dank and clammy beneath her slicker. She gathered it in her handsand squeezed what water she could from it, more for want of something todo than for any other reason.
No longer could she hear Bill stumbling about. What could have happenedto him? The lights were only a dozen yards away now. In another minuteor two their glare would pick her up for a certainty.
For the first time that evening, Dorothy became fidgety. Bill had toldher to remain here. That was an order, and must be obeyed. But--oh! ifBill would only come!