They had planned a quick relief with a small party, for every hour of
exposure lessened the missing man's chances. Glover chose for his
companions two men: Dancing--far and away the best climber in the
telegraph corps, and Smith Young, roadmaster, a chainman of Glover's
when he ran the Pilot line. Dancing and Glover were large men of
unusual strength, and Young, lighter and smaller, had been known in a
pinch to handle an ordinary steel rail. But above everything
each--even Glover, the youngest--was a man of resource and experience
in mountain craft.
They left the track near the twin bridges with only ropes and picks and
skis, and carrying stimulants and food. Without any attempt to catch
his trail from where they knew Blood must have started they made their
way as directly as possible down the side of the mountain and in the
direction of the gap. The stupendous difficulties of making headway
across the eastern slope did not become apparent until the rescuing
party was out of sight of those they had left, but from where they
floundered in ragged washouts or spread in line over glassy escarpments
they could see far up the mountain the rotary throwing a white cloud
into the sunshine and hear the far-off clamor of the engines on the
hill.
Below the snow-field which they crossed they found the superintendent's
trail, and saw that his effort had been to cross the gap at that point
and make his way out toward the western grade, where an easy climb
would have brought him to the track; or where by walking some distance
he could reach the track without climbing a foot, the grade there being
nearly four per cent.
They saw, too, why he had been forced to give up that hope, for what
would have been difficult for three fresh men with shoes was an
impossibility for a spent man in the snow alone. They knew that what
they had covered in two hours had probably cost him ten, for before
they had followed him a dozen feet they saw that he was dragging a leg;
farther, the snow showed stains and they crossed a field where he had
sat down and bandaged his leg after it had bled for a hundred yards.
The trail began, as they went on, to lose its character. Whether from
weakness or uncertainty Blood's steps had become wandering, and they
noticed that he paid less attention to directness, but shunned every
obstacle that called for climbing, struggling great distances around
rough places to avoid them. They knew it meant that he was husbanding
failing strength and was striving to avoid reopening his wound.
Twice they marked places in which he had sat to adjust his bandages,
and the strain of what they read in the snow quickened their anxiety.
Since that day Smith Young, superintendent now of the mountain
division, has never hunted, because he could never afterward follow the
trail of a wounded animal.