Chapter XXIII. The Fall of Balancing Rock

by Zane Grey

　　Through tear-blurred sight Jane Withersteen watched Venters andElizabeth Erne and the black racers disappear over the ridge ofsage.

　　"They're gone!" said Lassiter. "An' they're safe now. An'there'll never be a day of their comin' happy lives but whatthey'll remember Jane Withersteen an'--an' Uncle Jim!...I reckon,Jane, we'd better be on our way."

　　The burros obediently wheeled and started down the break withlittle cautious steps, but Lassiter had to leash the whining dogsand lead them. Jane felt herself bound in a feeling that wasneither listlessness nor indifference, yet which rendered herincapable of interest. She was still strong in body, butemotionally tired. That hour at the entrance to Deception Passhad been the climax of her suffering--the flood of her wrath--thelast of her sacrifice--the supremity of her love--and theattainment of peace. She thought that if she had little Fay shewould not ask any more of life.

　　Like an automaton she followed Lassiter down the steep trail ofdust and bits of weathered stone; and when the little slidesmoved with her or piled around her knees she experienced noalarm. Vague relief came to her in the sense of being enclosedbetween dark stone walls, deep hidden from the glare of sun, fromthe glistening sage. Lassiter lengthened the stirrup straps onone of the burros and bade her mount and ride close to him. Shewas to keep the burro from cracking his little hard hoofs onstones. Then she was riding on between dark, gleaming walls.There were quiet and rest and coolness in this canyon. She notedindifferently that they passed close under shady, bulging shelvesof cliff, through patches of grass and sage and thicket andgroves of slender trees, and over white, pebbly washes, andaround masses of broken rock. The burros trotted tirelessly; thedogs, once more free, pattered tirelessly; and Lassiter led onwith never a stop, and at every open place he looked back. Theshade under the walls gave place to sunlight. And presently theycame to a dense thicket of slender trees, through which theypassed to rich, green grass and water. Here Lassiter rested theburros for a little while, but he was restless, uneasy, silent,always listening, peering under the trees. She dully reflectedthat enemies were behind them--before them; still the thoughtawakened no dread or concern or interest.

　　At his bidding she mounted and rode on close to the heels of hisburro. The canyon narrowed; the walls lifted their rugged rimshigher; and the sun shone down hot from the center of the bluestream of sky above. Lassiter traveled slower, with moreexceeding care as to the ground he chose, and he kept speakinglow to the dogs. They were now hunting-dogs--keen, alert,suspicious, sniffing the warm breeze. The monotony of the yellowwalls broke in change of color and smooth surface, and the ruggedoutline of rims grew craggy. Splits appeared in deep breaks, andgorges running at right angles, and then the Pass opened wide ata junction of intersecting canyons.

　　Lassiter dismounted, led his burro, called the dogs close, andproceeded at snail pace through dark masses of rock and densethickets under the left wall. Long he watched and listened beforeventuring to cross the mouths of side canyons. At length hehalted, fled his burro, lifted a warning hand to Jane, and thenslipped away among the boulders, and, followed by the stealthydogs, disappeared from sight. The time he remained absent wasneither short nor long to Jane Withersteen.

　　When he reached her side again he was pale, and his lips were setin a hard line, and his gray eyes glittered coldly. Bidding herdismount, he led the burros into a covert of stones and cedars,and tied them.

　　"Jane, I've run into the fellers I've been lookin' for, an' I'mgoin' after them," he said.

　　"Why?" she asked.

　　"I reckon I won't take time to tell you."

　　"Couldn't we slip by without being seen?"

　　"Likely enough. But that ain't my game. An' I'd like to know, incase I don't come back, what you'll do."

　　"What can I do?"

　　"I reckon you can go back to Tull. Or stay in the Pass an' betaken off by rustlers. Which'll you do?"

　　"I don't know. I can't think very well. But I believe I'd ratherbe taken off by rustlers."

　　Lassiter sat down, put his head in his hands, and remained for afew moments in what appeared to be deep and painful thought. Whenhe lifted his face it was haggard, lined, cold as sculpturedmarble.

　　"I'll go. I only mentioned that chance of my not comin' back. I'mpretty sure to come."

　　"Need you risk so much? Must you fight more? Haven't you shedenough blood?"

　　"I'd like to tell you why I'm goin'," he continued, in coldnesshe had seldom used to her. She remarked it, but it was the sameto her as if he had spoken with his old gentle warmth. "But Ireckon I won't. Only, I'll say that mercy an' goodness, such asis in you, though they're the grand things in human nature, can'tbe lived up to on this Utah border. Life's hell out here. Youthink--or you used to think--that your religion made this lifeheaven. Mebbe them scales on your eyes has dropped now. Jane, Iwouldn't have you no different, an' that's why I'm going to tryto hide you somewhere in this Pass. I'd like to hide many morewomen, for I've come to see there are more like you among yourpeople. An' I'd like you to see jest how hard an' cruel thisborder life is. It's bloody. You'd think churches an' churchmenwould make it better. They make it worse. You give names tothings--bishops, elders, ministers, Mormonism, duty, faith,glory. You dream--or you're driven mad. I'm a man, an' I know. Iname fanatics, followers, blind women, oppressors, thieves,ranchers, rustlers, riders. An' we have--what you've livedthrough these last months. It can't be helped. But it can't lastalways. An' remember his--some day the border'll be better,cleaner, for the ways of ten like Lassiter!"

　　She saw him shake his tall form erect, look at her strangely andsteadfastly, and then, noiselessly, stealthily slip away amid therocks and trees. Ring and Whitie, not being bidden to follow,remained with Jane. She felt extreme weariness, yet somehow itdid not seem to be of her body. And she sat down in the shade andtried to think. She saw a creeping lizard, cactus flowers, thedrooping burros, the resting dogs, an eagle high over a yellowcrag. Once the meanest flower, a color, the flight of the bee, orany living thing had given her deepest joy. Lassiter had goneoff, yielding to his incurable blood lust, probably to his owndeath; and she was sorry, but there was no feeling in her sorrow.

　　Suddenly from the mouth of the canyon just beyond her rang out aclear, sharp report of a rifle. Echoes clapped. Then followed apiercingly high yell of anguish, quickly breaking. Again echoesclapped, in grim imitation. Dull revolver shots--hoarseyells--pound of hoofs--shrill neighs of horses--commingling ofechoes--and again silence! Lassiter must be busily engaged,thought Jane, and no chill trembled over her, no blanchingtightened her skin. Yes, the border was a bloody place. But lifehad always been bloody. Men were blood-spillers. Phases of thehistory of the world flashed through her mind--Greek and Romanwars, dark, mediaeval times, the crimes in the name of religion.On sea, on land, everywhere--shooting, stabbing, cursing,clashing, fighting men! Greed, power, oppression, fanaticism,love, hate, revenge, justice, freedom--for these, men killed oneanother.

　　She lay there under the cedars, gazing up through the delicatelacelike foliage at the blue sky, and she thought and wonderedand did not care.

　　More rattling shots disturbed the noonday quiet. She heard asliding of weathered rock, a hoarse shout of warning, a yell ofalarm, again the clear, sharp crack of the rifle, and another crythat was a cry of death. Then rifle reports pierced a dull volleyof revolver shots. Bullets whizzed over Jane's hiding-place; onestruck a stone and whined away in the air. After that, for atime, succeeded desultory shots; and then they ceased under long,thundering fire from heavier guns.

　　Sooner or later, then, Jane heard the cracking of horses' hoofson the stones, and the sound came nearer and nearer. Silenceintervened until Lassiter's soft, jingling step assured her ofhis approach. When he appeared he was covered with blood.

　　"All right, Jane," he said. "I come back. An' don't worry."

　　With water from a canteen he washed the blood from his face andhands.

　　"Jane, hurry now. Tear my scarf in two, en' tie up these places.That hole through my hand is some inconvenient, worse 'n this atover my ear. There--you're doin' fine! Not a bit nervous--notremblin'. I reckon I ain't done your courage justice. I'm gladyou're brave jest now--you'll need to be. Well, I was hid prettygood, enough to keep them from shootin' me deep, but they wasslingin' lead close all the time. I used up all the rifle shells,an' en I went after them. Mebbe you heard. It was then I got hit.Had to use up every shell in my own gun, an' they did, too, as Iseen. Rustlers an' Mormons, Jane! An' now I'm packin' five bulletholes in my carcass, an' guns without shells. Hurry, now."

　　He unstrapped the saddle-bags from the burros, slipped thesaddles and let them lie, turned the burros loose, and, callingthe dogs, led the way through stones and cedars to an open wheretwo horses stood.

　　"Jane, are you strong?" he asked.

　　"I think so. I'm not tired," Jane replied.

　　"I don't mean that way. Can you bear up?"

　　"I think I can bear anything."

　　"I reckon you look a little cold an' thick. So I'm preparin'you."

　　"For what?"

　　"I didn't tell you why I jest had to go after them fellers. Icouldn't tell you. I believe you'd have died. But I can tell younow--if you'll bear up under a shock?"

　　"Go on, my friend."

　　"I've got little Fay! Alive--bad hurt--but she'll live!"

　　Jane Withersteen's dead-locked feeling, rent by Lassiter's deep,quivering voice, leaped into an agony of sensitive life.

　　"Here," he added, and showed her where little Fay lay on thegrass.

　　Unable to speak, unable to stand, Jane dropped on her knees. Bythat long, beautiful golden hair Jane recognized the beloved Fay.But Fay's loveliness was gone. Her face was drawn and looked oldwith grief. But she was not dead--her heart beat--and JaneWithersteen gathered strength and lived again.

　　"You see I jest had to go after Fay," Lassiter was saying, as heknelt to bathe her little pale face. "But I reckon I don't wantno more choices like the one I had to make. There was a crippledfeller in that bunch, Jane. Mebbe Venters crippled him. Anyway,that's why they were holding up here. I seen little Fay firstthing, en' was hard put to it to figure out a way to get her. An'I wanted hosses, too. I had to take chances. So I crawled closeto their camp. One feller jumped a hoss with little Fay, an' whenI shot him, of course she dropped. She's stunned an' bruised--shefell right on her head. Jane, she's comin' to! She ain't badhurt!"

　　Fay's long lashes fluttered; her eyes opened. At first theyseemed glazed over. They looked dazed by pain. Then theyquickened, darkened, to shine withintelligence--bewilderment--memory--and sudden wonderfuljoy.

　　"Muvver--Jane!" she whispered.

　　"Oh, little Fay, little Fay!" cried Jane, lifting, clasping thechild to her.

　　"Now, we've got to rustle!" said Lassiter, in grim coolness."Jane, look down the Pass!"

　　Across the mounds of rock and sage Jane caught sight of a band ofriders filing out of the narrow neck of the Pass; and in the leadwas a white horse, which, even at a distance of a mile or more,she knew.

　　"Tull!" she almost screamed.

　　"I reckon. But, Jane, we've still got the game in our hands.They're ridin' tired hosses. Venters likely give them a chase. Hewouldn't forget that. An' we've fresh hosses."

　　Hurriedly he strapped on the saddle-bags, gave quick glance togirths and cinches and stirrups, then leaped astride.

　　"Lift little Fay up," he said.

　　With shaking arms Jane complied.

　　"Get back your nerve, woman! This's life or death now. Mind that.Climb up! Keep your wits. Stick close to me. Watch where yourhoss's goin' en' ride!"

　　Somehow Jane mounted; somehow found strength to hold the reins,to spur, to cling on, to ride. A horrible quaking, craven fearpossessed her soul. Lassiter led the swift flight across the widespace, over washes, through sage, into a narrow canyon where therapid clatter of hoofs rapped sharply from the walls. The windroared in her ears; the gleaming cliffs swept by; trail and sageand grass moved under her. Lassiter's bandaged, blood-stainedface turned to her; he shouted encouragement; he looked back downthe Pass; he spurred his horse. Jane clung on, spurring likewise.And the horses settled from hard, furious gallop into along-stridng, driving run. She had never ridden at anything likethat pace; desperately she tried to get the swing of the horse,to be of some help to him in that race, to see the best of theground and guide him into it. But she failed of everything exceptto keep her seat the saddle, and to spur and spur. At times sheclosed her eyes unable to bear sight of Fay's golden curlsstreaming in the wind. She could not pray; she could not rail;she no longer cared for herself. All of life, of good, of use inthe world, of hope in heaven entered in Lassiter's ride withlittle Fay to safety. She would have tried to turn the iron-jawedbrute she rode, she would have given herself to that relentless,dark-browed Tull. But she knew Lassiter would turn with her, soshe rode on and on.

　　Whether that run was of moments or hours Jane Withersteen couldnot tell. Lassiter's horse covered her with froth that blew backin white streams. Both horses ran their limit, were allowed slowdown in time to save them, and went on dripping, heaving,staggering.

　　"Oh, Lassiter, we must run--we must run!"

　　He looked back, saying nothing. The bandage had blown from hishead, and blood trickled down his face. He was bowing under thestrain of injuries, of the ride, of his burden. Yet how cool andgay he looked--how intrepid!

　　The horses walked, trotted, galloped, ran, to fall again to walk.Hours sped or dragged. Time was an instant--an eternity. JaneWithersteen felt hell pursuing her, and dared not look back forfear she would fall from her horse.

　　"Oh, Lassiter! Is he coming?"

　　The grim rider looked over his shoulder, but said no word. Fay'sgolden hair floated on the breeze. The sun shone; the wallsgleamed; the sage glistened. And then it seemed the sun vanished,the walls shaded, the sage paled. The horseswalked--trotted--galloped--ran--to fall again to walk. Shadowsgathered under shelving cliffs. The canyon turned, brightened,opened into a long, wide, wall-enclosed valley. Again the sun,lowering in the west, reddened the sage. Far ahead round,scrawled stone appeared to block the Pass.

　　"Bear up, Jane, bear up!" called Lassiter. "It's our game, if youdon't weaken."

　　"Lassiter! Go on--alone! Save little Fay!"

　　"Only with you!"

　　"Oha miserable coward! I can't fight or think orhope or pray! I'm lost! Oh, Lassiter, look back! Is he coming?I'll not--hold out--"

　　"Keep your breath, woman, an' ride not for yourself or for me,but for Fay!"

　　A last breaking run across the sage brought Lassiter's horse to awalk.

　　"He's done," said the rider.

　　"Oh, no--no!" moaned Jane.

　　"Look back, Jane, look back. Three--four miles we've come acrossthis valley, en' no Tull yet in sight. Only a few more miles!"

　　Jane looked back over the long stretch of sage, and found thenarrow gap in the wall, out of which came a file of dark horseswith a white horse in the lead. Sight of the riders acted uponJane as a stimulant. The weight of cold, horrible terrorlessened. And, gazing forward at the dogs, at Lassiter's limpinghorse, at the blood on his face, at the rocks growing nearer,last at Fay's golden hair, the ice left her veins, and slowly,strangely, she gained hold of strength that she believed wouldsee her to the safety Lassiter promised. And, as she gazed,Lassiter's horse stumbled and fell.

　　He swung his leg and slipped from the saddle.

　　"Jane, take the child," he said, and lifted Fay up. Jane claspedher arms suddenly strong. "They're gainin'," went on Lassiter, ashe watched the pursuing riders. "But we'll beat 'em yet."

　　Turning with Jane's bridle in his hand, he was about to startwhen he saw the saddle-bag on the fallen horse.

　　"I've jest about got time," he muttered, and with swift fingersthat did not blunder or fumble he loosened the bag and threw itover his shoulder. Then he started to run, leading Jane's horse,and he ran, and trotted, and walked, and ran again. Close aheadnow Jane saw a rise of bare rock. Lassiter reached it, searchedalong the base, and, finding a low place, dragged the weary horseup and over round, smooth stone. Looking backward, Jane sawTull's white horse not a mile distant, with riders strung out ina long line behind him. Looking forward, she saw more valley tothe right, and to the left a towering cliff. Lassiter pulled thehorse and kept on.

　　Little Fay lay in her arms with wide-open eyes--eyes which werestill shadowed by pain, but no longer fixed, glazed in terror.The golden curls blew across Jane's lips; the little hands feeblyclasped her arm; a ghost of a troubled, trustful smile hoveredround the sweet lips. And Jane Withersteen awoke to the spirit ofa lioness.

　　Lassiter was leading the horse up a smooth slope toward cedartrees of twisted and bleached appearance. Among these he halted.

　　"Jane, give me the girl en' get down," he said. As if it wrenchedhim he unbuckled the empty black guns with a strange air offinality. He then received Fay in his arms and stood a momentlooking backward. Tull's white horse mounted the ridge of roundstone, and several bays or blacks followed. "I wonder what he'llthink when he sees them empty guns. Jane, bring your saddle-bagand climb after me."

　　A glistening, wonderful bare slope, with little holes, swelled upand up to lose itself in a frowning yellow cliff. Jane closelywatched her steps and climbed behind Lassiter. He moved slowly.Perhaps he was only husbanding his strength. But she saw drops ofblood on the stone, and then she knew. They climbed and climbedwithout looking back. Her breast labored; she began to feel as iflittle points of fiery steel were penetrating her side into herlungs. She heard the panting of Lassiter and the quicker pantingof the dogs.

　　"Wait--here," he said.

　　Before her rose a bulge of stone, nicked with little cut steps,and above that a corner of yellow wall, and overhanging that avast, ponderous cliff.

　　The dogs pattered up, disappeared round the corner. Lassitermounted the steps with Fay, and he swayed like a drunken man, andhe too disappeared. But instantly he returned alone, and halfran, half slipped down to her.

　　Then from below pealed up hoarse shouts of angry men. Tull andseveral of his riders had reached the spot where Lassiter hadparted with his guns.

　　"You'll need that breath--mebbe!" said Lassiter, facing downward,with glittering eyes.

　　"Now, Jane, the last pull," he went on. "Walk up them littlesteps. I'll follow an' steady you. Don't think. Jest go. LittleFay's above. Her eyes are open. She jest said to me, 'Where'smuvver Jane?'"

　　Without a fear or a tremor or a slip or a touch of Lassiter'shand Jane Withersteen walked up that ladder of cut steps.

　　He pushed her round the corner of the wall. Fay lay, with widestaring eyes, in the shade of a gloomy wall. The dogs waited.Lassiter picked up the child and turned into a dark cleft. Itzigzagged. It widened. It opened. Jane was amazed at awonderfully smooth and steep incline leading up between ruined,splintered, toppling walls. A red haze from the setting sunfilled this passage. Lassiter climbed with slow, measured steps,and blood dripped from him to make splotches on the white stone.Jane tried not to step in his blood, but was compelled, for shefound no other footing. The saddle-bag began to drag her down;she gasped for breath, she thought her heart was bursting.Slower, slower yet the rider climbed, whistling as he breathed.The incline widened. Huge pinnacles and monuments of stone stoodalone, leaning fearfully. Red sunset haze shone through crackswhere the wall had split. Jane did not look high, but she feltthe overshadowing of broken rims above. She felt that it was afearful, menacing place. And she climbed on in heartrendingeffort. And she fell beside Lassiter and Fay at the top of theincline in a narrow, smooth divide.

　　He staggered to his feet--staggered to a huge, leaning rock thatrested on a small pedestal. He put his hand on it--the hand thathad been shot through--and Jane saw blood drip from the raggedhole. Then he fell.

　　"Jane--I--can't--do--it!" he whispered.

　　"What?"

　　"Roll the--stone!...All my--life I've loved--to roll stones--en'now I--can't!"

　　"What of it? You talk strangely. Why roll that stone?"

　　"I planned to--fetch you here--to roll this stone. See! It'llsmash the crags--loosen the walls--close the outlet!"

　　As Jane Withersteen gazed down that long incline, walled in bycrumbling cliffs, awaiting only the slightest jar to make themfall asunder, she saw Tull appear at the bottom and begin toclimb. A rider followed him-- another--and another.

　　"See! Tull! The riders!"

　　"Yes--they'll get us--now."

　　"Why? Haven't you strength left to roll the stone?"

　　"Jane--it ain't that--I've lost my nerve!"

　　"You!...Lassiter!"

　　"I wanted to roll it--meant to--but I--can't. Venters's valley isdown behind here. We could--live there. But if I roll thestone--we're shut in for always. I don't dare. I'm thinkin' ofyou!"

　　"Lassiter! Roll the stone!" she cried.

　　He arose, tottering, but with set face, and again he placed thebloody hand on the Balancing Rock. Jane Withersteen gazed fromhim down the passageway. Tull was climbing. Almost, she thought,she saw his dark, relentless face. Behind him more ridersclimbed. What did they mean for Fay--for Lassiter--for herself?

　　"Roll the stone!...Lassiter, I love you!"

　　Under all his deathly pallor, and the blood, and the iron ofseared cheek and lined brow, worked a great change. He placedboth hands on the rock and then leaned his shoulder there andbraced his powerful body.

　　Roll the stone!

　　It stirred, it groaned, it grated, it moved, and with a slowgrinding, as of wrathful relief, began to lean. It had waitedages to fall, and now was slow in starting. Then, as if suddenlyinstinct with life, it leaped hurtingly down to alight on thesteep incline, to bound more swiftly into the air, to gathermomentum, to plunge into the lofty leaning crag below. The cragthundered into atoms. A wave of air--a splitting shock! Dustshrouded the sunset red of shaking rims; dust shrouded Tull as hefell on his knees with uplifted arms. Shafts and monuments andsections of wall fell majestically.

　　From the depths there rose a long-drawn rumbling roar. The outletto Deception Pass closed forever.