The day following the events just narrated the man who had been sent by the vigilantes to Gold Cave Camp to hurry up Sam Willett with the all-important paper, came back on a weary horse, bringing with him a very startling report.

The instant he dismounted before the canvas hotel he was greeted from all sides by queries like these:

"Got back, Ned?"

"Wot's the news?"

"Whar's the boy?"

"Wouldn't he come?"

"You found thar wasn't any paper to fetch?"

When the messenger had recovered his breath and the silence abated, he replied to all these questions in one sentence:

"Thar wasn't no one at the caves!"

"No one!" shouted a number.

"Not a livin' soul."

"Whar had they gone?" asked Badger.

"The flood must have drowned 'em all out," said the messenger.

"Did it rise as high as the caves?" asked one.

"Yes; clear up to the top."

"But they mout have got off afore the flood riz?" said Badger.

"Wa'al," was the reply, "if they did git off, they must have gone inter hidin', for I sarched and sarched, and didn't see hair nor hide, nor sign nor trace of 'em."

This news startled every one, but it brought intense pleasure to two.

As soon as Frank Shirley and Badger could go off without attracting attention, they withdrew from the crowd, and the former asked:

"What do you think of the news, Badger?"

"Couldn't be better," said Badger.

"Think the boy's drowned?"

"He must be."

"But might he not have escaped?"

"How?"

"In a boat or on a raft."

"Wa'al," laughed Badger, "they didn't have no boat, and if they tried a raft, why that'd be the same as committin' suicide."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I've knowed of men as got into the great canon of the Colorado, but no one knows of any that came out on a raft. The boy's dead as a door nail by this time, and you're a rich man," said Badger, reaching out his hand.

CHAPTER XV.-THE PROVISIONS ALL GONE.

When the raft was repaired, the blankets, arms, and little stock of food were put on board and securely fastened, each one took his accustomed place, with Maj in the middle, and the voyage was resumed.

How far they had come, Sam had no means of telling, he only knew to his sorrow that he was being borne further and further away from his father.

Without this awful anxiety on his mind, the situation would have been sufficient to shake the nerves and courage of a strong man.

The brave youth felt that he was not only battling in these depths for his own life, but for the lives of those whom fate had thrown with him on this most thrilling voyage.

He fully realized the situation, and the fort.i.tude with which he faced it redounds the more to his credit.

They were on a shaky raft at the bottom of the mightiest gorge in all the world.

Even if they could reach the top, they would find themselves in the midst of an arid, trackless desert, cut up by other canons, across which naught but the mountain eagle could pa.s.s in safety.

The hunger, ever gnawing at his vitals, kept before him the fact that their provisions were nearly out.

If by dying, Sam could save his beloved father and return to safety his companions in these trials, he would not have hesitated about facing death; but as it was, he determined to do his full duty while his strength lasted, though no eye but G.o.d's appreciated the effort he was putting forth.

The canon through which they were now pa.s.sing, had the highest walls they had yet seen. For more than a mile their glistening gray sides shot up to the thin belt of dark blue sky, their summits crowned with pinnacles that in comparison would dwarf the highest and n.o.blest structure ever built by human hands.

As if resting after their mad dance in the whirlpool, the waters flowed calmly and silently down, yet with a speed that told Sam they were moving at the rate of about four miles an hour.

The most wonderful thing about these depths was the dim twilight, and long before the sun went down in the upper world, the stars were visible from the bottom of the canon.

As night approached the pa.s.sengers scanned the sh.o.r.es eagerly, and looked ahead to every bend in the tortuous river, hoping they might be able to find a strip of sh.o.r.e or a ledge of rocks on which to make a landing, but in vain.

"It don't look's if dar was any more shoah," said Ike, in a loud, frightened tone, that echoed from rock to rock for nearly a minute after he had spoken.

"Not within sight," said Sam, with affected cheerfulness.

"Den wat's we to do?"

"We must keep on."

"On de raft?"