<h2 id="c17"><br/>CHAPTER XVII <br/>AGE SERVES YOUTH</h2>
<p>The two girls had carried no suit-case, satchel
or duffel bag on this trip. Their spare clothing
was stowed away in their sleeping bags. When
their host had lighted their way to the room that
was to be theirs for the night, and had retired
to his large room, they tip-toed back to their
sleds, unlashed their sleeping bags and carried
them as they were to their room.</p>
<p>For some hours Marian had not thought of
the ancient treasure found in the cave, but once
she began unrolling her sleeping bag she was
reminded of it. A piece of old ivory went clattering
to the floor. With a cry of surprise she
picked it up, then carefully removed the other
pieces of ivory, copper and ancient pottery and
stood them in a row against the wall.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_140">[140]</div>
<p>Again there came the temptation to give them
a thorough examination. Events transpired
later that caused her to wish that she had done
so. But weary and troubled by the turn affairs
had taken, she again put off this inviting task.
She slipped at once into her sleeping gown and
plunged beneath the covers of the most delightful
bed she had ever known. Attatak followed
her a few seconds later.</p>
<p>They found themselves lying upon a bed of
springy moss mixed with the fragrant tips of
balsam. Over this had been thrown wolfskin
robes. With one of these beneath them, and
two above, they snuggled down until only their
noses were showing.</p>
<p>They did not sleep at once. Left to himself,
the mysterious old man had seated himself at his
organ, and now sent forth such wild, pealing
tones as Marian had never heard before. He
was doing Dvorjak’s wildest symphony, and
making it wilder and more weird than even the
composer himself could have dreamed it might be
made.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_141">[141]</div>
<p>Throughout its rendition, Marian lay tense as
a bow-string. As it ended with a wild, racing
crash, she settled back with a shiver, wondering
what could throw such a spell over an old man
as would cause him to play in that manner.</p>
<p>Had she known the reason she would have
done little sleeping that night. The aged host
was tuning his soul to such a key as would nerve
him for a Herculean task.</p>
<p>Since Marian did not know, she puzzled for a
time over the trail they must travel in the morning;
wondered vaguely how her host was to keep
his promise of bringing their sleds safely past
the rapids; then fell asleep.</p>
<p>As for their host, fifteen minutes after the last
note of his wild symphony had died away, he
tip-toed down the silent corridor which led to
the door of the room in which the girls were
sleeping. Having convinced himself by a
moment of listening that they were asleep, he
made his way to the spot where their two sleds
had been left. These he examined carefully.
After straightening up, he murmured:</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_142">[142]</div>
<p>“Took their sleeping-bags. That’s bad.
Didn’t need ’em. Can’t disturb ’em now. Guess
it can be managed.”</p>
<p>After delivering himself of this monologue,
he proceeded to wrap the contents of each sled
in a water-proof blanket, then dragged them
out into the moonlight.</p>
<p>Having strapped an axe, a pick and a shovel
on one sled, he tied the other sled to it and began
pulling them over the smooth downhill trail that
led toward the falls.</p>
<p>For a full mile he plodded stolidly on. Then
he halted, separated the sleds, and with the foremost
sled gliding on before him, plunged down
a steep bank to the right. Presently he came toiling
back up the hill for the other sled.</p>
<p>At the bottom once more, he stood for a
moment staring into the foaming depths of a
roaring torrent.</p>
<p>“Pretty bad,” he muttered. “Never did it
before at this time of year. Might fail.
Might—”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_143">[143]</div>
<p>Suddenly he broke off and began humming,
“Tum—te—tum—tum—tum.” He was going
over and over that mad symphony. It appeared
to give him strength and courage, and
seizing the pick, he began hacking away at some
object that lay half buried in the snow.</p>
<p>Fifteen minutes later he had exhumed a short,
square raft.</p>
<p>“Built you for other purposes, but you’ll do
for this,” he muttered. “Other logs where you
came from.”</p>
<p>He set both sleds carefully upon the raft; then
with yards upon yards of rawhide rope, lashed
them solidly to it.</p>
<p>This done, he began running out a heavier
rope. This he carried up the bank to a spot
where there was a mass of jagged rock covered
here and there by hard packed snow.</p>
<p>More than once he slipped, but always he
struggled upward until at last he stood upon
the topmost pinnacle. A heroic figure silhouetted
in the moonlight, he stood for a full five minutes
staring down at the racing waters below. Dancing
in the moonlight, they appeared to reach
out black hands to grasp and drag him down.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_144">[144]</div>
<p>Before him, on the opposite side, gleamed a
high white bank. A sheer precipice of ice fifty
feet high, this was the end of a glacier that every
now and again sent a thousand tons of ice thundering
into the deep pool at its foot.</p>
<p>Beneath this ice barrier the water had worn a
channel. A boat drifting down on the rushing
waters would certainly be sucked down beneath
this ice and be crushed like an eggshell.</p>
<p>What the old man intended to do was evident
enough. He meant to set the raft, laden with the
sleds and trappings so precious to his young
guests, afloat in those turbulent waters and then
to attempt by means of the rope to hold it from
being drawn beneath the ice, and to guide it a
half mile down the river to quieter waters below.
There was no path for him to follow.
Jagged rocks and ice-like snow, slippery as glass,
awaited him; yet he dared to try it.</p>
<p>Here was a task fit for the youngest and the
strongest; yet there he stood, the spirit of a hero
flowing in his veins—age serving youth. The
gallantry of a great and perfect gentleman bowing
to fair ladies and daring all. How Marian
would have thrilled at sight of this daring act.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_145">[145]</div>
<p>With a swift turn he tightened the rope, then
with the “de—de—dum” of his symphony
upon his lips, strained every muscle until he felt
the rope slack, then eased away as he saw the
raft tilt for the glide. Then he relaxed his muscles
and stood there watching.</p>
<p>With a slow graceful movement the small raft
glided out upon the water. An eddy seized
it and whirled it about. Three times it turned,
then the current caught it, and whirled it away.
The rope was tight now, and every muscle of the
grand old man was tense. A battle had begun
which was to decide whether or not the two girls
were to reach the station and fulfill their
mission.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_146">[146]</div>
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