chance.
With a crack so loud that Frank could hear it even at this distance, the ice abruptly went out from under Salty’s feet, and he was plunged into the frigid waters of Eight Mile Creek.
Chapter 26
Salty fell through the ice so quickly he didn’t even have a chance to let out a yell before he disappeared under the creek’s surface. Meg screamed, though, as she saw him disappear, and so did some of the other women. Conway yelled, “What the hell!” and started floundering forward through the snow.
Frank was already in motion, pounding down the hill on Goldy. As he leaned forward in the saddle, he saw Dog bunching his muscles to leap into the creek in an attempt to save Salty. The big cur ran out onto the ice and splashed into the stream before Frank could call out to stop him.
None of the saddles used by the outlaws had had lariats with them. This wasn’t cattle country, so folks didn’t have much call to use a rope. But Frank had picked one up in Skagway simply because, like any good Texan, he was used to carrying a lariat with him. Now he was glad he had thought of it. With any luck, it would come in mighty handy.
In all that white expanse of snow covering the valley, he wasn’t sure exactly where the creek began. He reined in about where he thought the right spot was, swung down from the saddle, and found himself still on solid ground. He took the rope and swiftly tied one end to the saddle horn, then started out onto the ice, holding on to the rope and paying it out behind him.
“Stand, Goldy!” he called to the horse. He knew that Goldy wouldn’t move now.
A glance up the hill told him that Conway was making his way down the slope on foot. The women were still standing at the top, watching anxiously.
Frank felt his boots sliding a little on the surface under the snow and knew that he was on the ice now. The place where Salty had broken through was about twenty yards in front of him. Frank scanned the water, which was clogged with chunks of broken ice, but didn’t see Salty or Dog anywhere. His heart pounded in his chest with fear for them.
He heard another crack and knew the fissures in the ice must be spreading. He wrapped the rope around his left wrist and then lay down on the ice, sprawling on his stomach. That spread out his weight without concentrating too much of it in any one spot, he knew. Using his toes and elbows, he began to pull himself forward.
The soaked forms of Dog and Salty suddenly broke the surface. The big cur’s teeth were fastened in Salty’s fur coat. The old-timer flailed around and gasped for breath.
Frank was only about ten yards from the water now. He called out, “Hang on, Salty, hang on! I’m almost there!” He crawled closer and saw that Salty, helped by Dog, was trying to swim closer to the spot where the ice ended.
From the bank, Conway shouted, “Frank, what can I do to help?”
Frank twisted his head around to call to the young man, “Stay there! We don’t need anybody else on this ice!”
He turned his attention back to Salty. The old-timer was trying to scramble up onto the unbroken ice, but he kept slipping. He wasn’t strong enough to pull himself out of the water, and the ice was too slick.
Frank pushed himself forward again. He was within a couple of feet now. He reached out with his right hand, stretching his arm as far as it would go. As he did so, he felt the ice move a little underneath him. Not much, but enough to send a tingle of alarm through him.
“Salty! Grab my hand!”
The sourdough was sputtering and choking, and Frank didn’t know if he’d heard him. He called again, “Salty!” and stretched a little farther.
Salty’s fingers brushed his, and Frank grabbed hold. He pulled the old man closer and shifted his fingers so that he had a solid grip on Salty’s wrist. Then he looked at the shore and shouted, “Goldy, back up!”
The horse began to move backward. The rope pulled taut as Frank held it with his left hand. He felt himself revolving ninety degrees on the ice, so that he lay parallel to the jagged edge where it had broken. Both arms were stretched out, the left one toward Goldy, the right toward Salty.
“Hang on, Dog!” he told the big cur. Dog probably couldn’t climb out on the slippery ice, either. Goldy was going to have to pull both of them out of the creek.
Conway saw what Frank was trying to do and grabbed the rope to help pull. Frank felt the strain in his muscles and bones and ligaments and hoped that one or both of his shoulders wouldn’t pop out of their sockets.
Thankfully, the pain lasted only a moment. With Goldy and Conway hauling on the rope, Salty and Dog were lifted out of the creek and onto the ice. Frank didn’t try to get up, though. Still lying on his belly, he called, “Pull us to shore!”
Goldy continued backing. The two men and the dog plowed a wide furrow through the snow as they slid across the ice. It took only a moment for them to reach the bank. Conway was there waiting for them. Frank scrambled to his feet without any assistance as Dog finally let go of Salty’s coat and shook himself so that water flew everywhere off his thick pelt. Conway started to help Salty.
“Wood!” Frank said urgently. “Find some wood! We’ve got to have a fire!” The water in that stream was even colder than the Pacific had been when they plunged into it from the sinking
Conway whirled toward the trees, and as he did so, Frank heard another sharp crack. For a second he thought that the ice on the creek was continuing to break up, but then he realized that the sound came from the top of the hill. It was followed by more cracks and pops and a woman’s scream. What sounded like a giant bee buzzed past Frank’s ear.
Somebody was shooting at them.
“Pete! Grab some cover! Dog! Hunt!”
