"Wa'al, Mistah Sam, wat luck?"

"Poor luck, Ike," was the sad reply.

"Couldn't find de way out, eh?"

"There is no way to find. Every wall we came to is as high and steep as those about the camp," said Sam, with a sigh and an upward glance at the perpendicular cliffs that appeared to be bending over them, as if the touch of a child's hand might tumble them into the chasm.

"Undah sich sarc.u.mstances ez dem," said Ike, very solemnly, "wat do yeh tinks best to be done?"

"We must leave here at once."

"But how's it to be did, Mistah Sam?"

"We must leave as we came."

"On de raft?"

"Yes."

"Wa'al, dat's a heap sight moah comfotable way dan if we had to swim foh it," said Ike, with a sudden display of cheerfulness.

Sam now began to realize that their stock of provisions was small, that there was no way of replenishing them in the canon, and that their stay in these depths was very indefinite, if, indeed, the chances were not all against their ever being able to get out.

He saw that it would be a mistaken kindness if he let the others or himself eat all that they desired, and great as his affection was for Maj, the dog, he regretted that the animal was along, for it made another and a very large mouth to feed.

With force and frankness he laid the case before his companions, and without a sign of dissent, they agreed to have the food so divided as to make it last for ten days, before which time the least hopeful was certain they would again be in the upper world.

A dinner of limited rations was at once eaten, and though it was ample, every one of them thought that he could easily eat as much more and not feel that he was playing the glutton.

Again the cargo was placed securely on the raft, and Maj walked demurely on board and lay down on top of the blankets.

After strengthening the raft by the addition of some pieces of light, dry cedar, it was freed from its moorings and pushed into the current.

The four pa.s.sengers occupied the same relative positions as on the previous day, Sam standing in the stern and skilfully steering the float from the many angry-looking rocks that jutted into the swift current.

As the light began to fade, Sam gazed eagerly in front and on either side in the hope of being able to find some expansion or ledge on which they could land for the night. But an impenetrable darkness settled over them, and they were still afloat in the canon.

CHAPTER X.-A NIGHT OF AWFUL GLOOM.

Words can convey to the reader an idea of only those things with which he is familiar, or of which he can form a picture through his imagination, and even when the latter is vivid it must draw largely for its creation on things with which it is somewhat acquainted.

No pen or tongue could properly describe the situation and the feelings of the four human beings who through the long black hours of that night whirled and drifted down through the black depths of the canon.

As it was useless to stand up and attempt to steer, for he could not see his hand held close before his face, Sam Willett crouched down on the raft, and clung with nervous hands to its trembling timbers.

Now and then they seemed to be floating through quiet waters, but just when hope came to cheer them with the belief that they had pa.s.sed through the most dangerous part of the current, the raft would be hurled down long lines of rapids, or caught by some projecting rock it would be sent spinning around with a velocity that made the occupants sick with the whirling motion and the fear that the end had come. Such a situation would have tested the strength of the most experienced nerves, even if the midday sun was shining into the chasm, but the darkness added to its terrors and filled the bravest with alarm.

On and on, and on. It seemed to Sam that they were sinking into the bowels of the earth, or flying away through the realms of night and the abode of impenetrable darkness.

Now and then he would look up at the few stars visible in the strip of sky far overhead, to a.s.sure himself that he was yet in the world of life and light.

They were floating down a quiet stretch of water when Ike called out in a tremulous voice.

"Say, Mistah Sam, ken yeh heah me?"

"Yes, Ike, I can hear," was the reply.

"How does yeh feel, 'bout dis time?"

"I feel hopeful, Ike."

"Why does yeh feel dat way?"

"It is my disposition," said Sam, for want of a better answer.

"Got any ideah wot's de time?"

"I have not, Ike."

"How long does yeh tink it is since _de sun went down foh de last time_?"

"About eight hours," said Sam, though, judging by his own feelings, it seemed like so many days.

"Eight houahs!" exclaimed Ike. "Oh, Mistah Sam, yeh's away clar off de track."

"How long do you think it is since the sun went down?" asked Sam, for the sound of their voices seemed to lighten the gloom.

"Jest 'bout fifteen yeahs an' six months ago," said Ike, with the greatest solemnity, adding quickly, "an' I don't tink de sun'll eber rise agin. It's done gone gin out. My, if we could see our faces 'bout dis yer time, do yeh know wot we'd find?"

"What, Ike?"

"Dat we've all growed up in de darkness, and dat we'z ole men."

"Me not feel like ole man," said Wah Shin.

"What do you feel like?" asked Sam, glad to hear them all speaking again.

"Me feel belly hungly," was the reply.

"Patience, patience," cried out Ulna, from the forward part of the raft, "G.o.d's sun is rising now."

"Where!" was the exclamation of all.

"In the east," said the young Ute.