The raid of the guerilla, and other storiesCraddock, Charles Egbert
General
The raid of the guerilla, and other stories
Craddock, Charles Egbert
Cumberland Mountains -- Fiction; Mountain life -- Fiction; Tennessee -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
A moment ensued of absolute silence,--space, however, for a hard-fought
battle. The aspect of that mad world below, with every condition of
creation reversed; a mistake in the adjustment of the winch and gear by
the excited, reluctant, disapproving men; an overstrain on the fibres of
the long-used rope; a slip on the treacherous ice; the dizzy whirl of
the senses that even a glance downward at those drear depths set astir
in the brain,--all were canvassed within his mental processes, all were
duly realized in their entirety ere he said with a spare dull voice and
dry lips,--
"Fix ter let me down ter that thar leanin' pine, boys,--I'll kerry a
guy-rope over thar."
At one side the crag beetled, and although it was impossible thence to
reach the cabin with a rope it would swing clear of obstructions here,
and might bring the rescuer within touch of the pine, where could be
fastened the guy-rope; the other end would be affixed to the chair which
could be lowered to the cabin only from the rugged face of the cliff.
Kennedy harbored no self-deception; he more than doubted the outcome of
the enterprise. He quaked and turned pale with dread as with the great
rope knotted about his arm-pits and around his waist he was swung over
the brink at the point where the crag jutted forth,--lower and lower
still; now nearing the slanting inverted pine, caught amidst the debris
of earth and rock; now failing to reach its boughs; once more swinging
back to a great distance, so did the length of the rope increase the
scope of the pendulum; now nearing the pine again, and at last fairly
lodged on the icy bole, knotting and coiling about it the end of the
guy-rope, on which he had come and on which he must needs return.
It seemed, through the inexpert handling of the little group, a long
time before the stout arm-chair was secured to the cables, slowly
lowered, and landed at last on the outside of the hut. Many an anxious
glance was cast at the slate-gray sky. An inopportune flurry of snow, a
flaw of wind,--and even now all would be lost. Dusk too impended, and as
the rope began to coil on the windlass at the signal to hoist every eye
was strained to discern the identity of the first voyagers in this
aerial journey,--the two children, securely lashed to the chair. This
was well,--all felt that both parents might best wait, might risk the
added delay. The chair came swinging easily, swiftly, along the
gradations of the rise, the guy-rope holding it well from the chances of
contact with the jagged projections of the face of the cliff, and the
first shout of triumph rang sonorously from the summit.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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