Free Novel 1966 - The Broken Gun (v5.0) by Louis L’Amour Page A

and climbing by opposing the one strength against the other, I might be able to climb.
    But that twenty feet…I felt the cold sweat on my forehead and my hands were clammy. There would be no rope to hold me…a moment’s weakness and I was finished. And always there would be the threat of Reese, who might suddenly arrive on the scene.
    Above that twenty feet out there, was a ledge. It looked to be a foot wide, which was like a highway compared to what lay between where I stood and it. Beyond that ledge I could not see. I might get there and find myself helpless to go on—and once there I could not even die in comfort. It would be merely a matter of hanging on until I weakened and fell.
    The cedar was craggy and old. Gray, jagged ends of ancient limbs thrust out through the green, and they could open a man wide if he fell against them. But there was no other way for it, and I had waited long enough.
    I took off my coat and dropped it on the ledge, where it could be seen if searchers came looking. Then, swinging my arms, I jumped.
    For an instant I seemed to hang in the air, and then some of the cedar’s branches were splintering under me, but the tree itself had kept its strength and it was sturdy. Some old limbs broke, but the tree held, and gingerly I eased my feet onto the thickest of the short branches.
    Carefully I stood up, balancing myself. The tiny ledge was above me. Stretching my arms out, I was still a few inches short of reaching it. There was nothing else for it…a quick hop…my fingers caught, clung.
    I swung against the face, then hung there still. Ever so gently, sweat streaming down my face, I worked my fingers along, my whole weight hanging from them.
    Inch by inch, my mouth dry as dust, my breath coming hoarsely, I moved along the ledge. Once I thought I heard a sound…was Reese coming? Horror filled me. I did not want to die…I wanted, desperately, to live!
    Halfway. Another inch…the strain on my fingers was almost intolerable.
    The crack up which I must go was before me, and that meant an even greater strain. Suddenly my fingers encountered a small rock and some dust. For an instant I held myself still. If my fingers slipped on that dust…I moved them and the rock fell past my face, dust falling against my cheeks.
    The crack opened beside me and I got a boot into it. My body was wet with sweat, as much from fear as from exertion.
    One hand moved, turned, and the fingers hooked against the rock. Then I shifted my weight, getting the other foot against the far side of the rock. I dared not hold still; there was no place to rest, or even to catch a breath.
    Using the lie-back, my weight hanging against my fingers while I pushed against the rock with my feet, I began to climb. Slowly…up…up…up.
    All at once I knew I was going to make it. I was going to reach that ledge.
    I grasped at the edge of it, and it crumbled under my fingers. Reaching out, I tested a further place, and got hold of it, then pulling against the rock I hauled myself up and got a knee on the ledge. Slowly, with infinite care, my palms reached up along the wall…up, up higher. Using the strength of one leg, I pulled up the other, then slowly stood up.
    For a long moment I rested there, trembling like an aspen.
    Behind me was the gulf of the canyon, before me sheer wall. Turning my head carefully, I looked along the ledge. It went out of sight under a bulging overhang where I must kneel down to pass.
    Just then somewhere back of me I heard a rock roll, as if under a boot. Breathing hoarsely, I carefully worked along the ledge, eased myself to one knee, and edged under the overhang.
    Behind me a voice called. “Sheridan?”
    It was Reese, and he had not seen me yet. Under the bulge, where there was shadow, I remained immovable.
    “Sheridan!” he called again. “That coat doesn’t fool me. Not even a fly could go down that wall. I’ve stood at the base of it, and I know.”
    There was a long moment of stillness. I wanted