Bart was a good swimmer, and though enc.u.mbered with his clothes, he felt no fear of reaching the bank somewhere lower down; and, confident in this respect, he looked round as he rose to the surface for the body of him he had tried to save, for as he struck the water he had loosened his hold.

There was just a glimmer of something below the surface, and taking a couple of st.u.r.dy strokes, Bart reached it before it sank lower, caught hold, and then guiding his burden, struck out for the sh.o.r.e.

The rocks from which he had come were already a hundred yards above them, the stream sweeping them down with incredible swiftness, and Bart knew that it would be folly to do more than go with it, striving gently the while to guide his course towards some projecting rocks upon the bank. There was the possibility, too, of finding some eddy which might lead him sh.o.r.eward; and after fighting hard to get a hold upon a piece of smooth stone that promised well, but from which he literally seemed to be plucked by the rushing water, Bart found himself in a deep, still pool, round which he was swept twice, and, to his horror, nearer each time towards the centre, where, with an agonising pang, he felt that he might be sucked down.

Dreading this, he made a desperate effort, and once more reached the very edge of the great, calm, swirling pool just as the bushes on the bank were parted with a loud rush, and the Beaver literally bounded into the water, to render such help that when, faint and exhausted, they all reached a shallow, rocky portion of the stream a quarter of a mile below where Bart had made his plunge, the chief was ready to lift out the object the lad had tried to save, and then hold out his hand and help the lad ash.o.r.e.

The next minute they were striving all they knew to try and resuscitate him whom Bart had nearly lost his life in trying to save, the interpreter joining them to lend his help; and as they worked, trying the plan adopted by the Indians in such a case, the new-comer told Bart how the accident had occurred.

His words amounted to the statement that while the speaker and the chief had been collecting sticks for a fire to roast a salmon they had speared with a sharp, forked stick, they had seen the Doctor busily rinsing the sand in a shallow pool of the rocks, well out, where the stream ran fast. They had not antic.i.p.ated danger, and were busy over their preparations, when looking up all at once, they found the Doctor was gone.

Even then they did not think there was anything wrong, believing that while they were busy their leader had gone to some other part among the rocks, till, happening to glance down the stream some minutes later, the Beaver's quick eyes had caught sight of the bright tin bowl which the Doctor had been using to rinse the sand in his hunt for gold, floating on the surface a hundred yards below, and slowly sailing round and round in an eddy.

This started them in search of the drowning man, with the result that they reached Bart in time to save both.

For after a long and arduous task the Doctor began to show signs of returning life, and at last opened his eyes and stared about him like one who had just awakened from a dream.

"What--what has happened?" he asked. "Did--did I slip from the rocks, or have I been asleep?"

He shuddered, and struggled into a sitting position, then thoroughly comprehending after a few minutes what had pa.s.sed:

"Who saved me?" he asked quickly.

The Beaver seemed to understand the drift of the question, for he pointed with a smile to Bart.

"You?" exclaimed the Doctor.

"Oh, I did nothing," said Bart modestly. "I saw you floating down towards me, and tried to pull you on a rock; instead of doing which, you pulled me in, and we swam down together till I got near the sh.o.r.e, and then I could do no more. It was the Beaver there who saved us."

The Doctor rose and grasped the chief's hand, wringing it warmly.

"Where's Joses?" he said sharply.

No one knew.

"Let us go back," said the Doctor; "perhaps we shall meet him higher up;" and looking faint and utterly exhausted, he followed the two Indians as they chose the most easy part of the valley for walking, the Doctor's words proving to be right, for they came upon Joses toiling down towards the pa.s.sage leading to the plain with six heavy fish hanging from a tough wand thrust through their gills.

They reached the chimney, as Bart christened it, just about the same time as Joses, who stared as he caught sight of the saturated clothes.

"What! been in after the fish?" he said with a chuckle. "I got mine, master, without being wet."

"We've had a narrow escape from drowning, Joses," said the Doctor, hoa.r.s.ely.

"That's bad, master, that's bad," cried Joses. "It all comes o' my going away and leaving you and Master Bart, there; but I thought a few o' these salmon chaps would be good eating, so I went and snared 'em out with a bit o' wire and a pole."

"I shall soon be better, Joses," replied the Doctor. "The accident would have happened all the same whether you had been there or no. Let us get back to the camp."

"Are we going to leave them beautiful fish the Beaver and old Speechworks here have caught and cooked?" asked Joses, regretfully.

"No," said the Doctor, sinking down upon a stone, "let us rest and eat them. We shall not hurt out here in this bright sunshine, Bart, and we'll wring some of the water out of our clothes, and have less weight to carry."

This speech gave the greatest of satisfaction, for the party were ravenously hungry, and the halt was not long enough to do any one hurt, for the broiled salmon was rapidly eaten. Then they started, and after a rather toilsome climb, ascended once more to the level of the plain, and reaching the waggons learned that all was well, before proceeding to the Doctor's quarters in his tent at the top of the mountain.

CHAPTER THIRTY.

THE BEAVER SNIFFS DANGER.

"There's something wrong, Master Bart," said Joses that evening, as Bart, rejoicing in the luxury of well-dried clothes, sat enjoying the beauty of the setting sun, and thinking of the glories of the canyon, longing to go down again and spend a day spearing trout and salmon for the benefit of the camp.

"Wrong, Joses!" cried Bart, leaping up. "What's wrong?"

"Dunno," said Joses, gruffly, "and not knowing, can't say."

"Have you seen anything, then?"

"No."

"Have you heard of anything?"

"No."

"Has anybody brought bad news?"

"No."

"Then what is it?" cried Bart. "Why don't you speak."

"'Cause I've nothing to say, only that I'm sure there's something wrong."

"But why are you sure?"

"Because the Beaver's so busy."

"What is he doing?"

"All sorts of things. He hasn't said anything, but I can see by his way that he sniffs danger somewhere. He's getting all the horses into the cavern stable, and making his men drive all the cattle into the corral, and that means there's something wrong as sure as can be. Injun smells danger long before it comes. There's no deceiving them."

"Let's go and see him, Joses," cried Bart; and, shouldering their rifles, they walked past the drawn-up rows of empty waggons, whose stores were all high up on the mountain.

As they reached the entrance to the corral the Indians had driven in the last pair of oxen, while the horses and mules were already in their hiding-place.

"Did the Doctor order this?" asked Bart.

"Not he, sir: he's busy up above looking at the silver they dug out while we were down in the canyon. It's all the Beaver's doing, Master Bart, and you may take it for granted there's good cause for it all."

"Ah, Beaver," said Bart, as the chief came out of the corral, "why is this?"