through that bit of deep water with ease."

'"I can live by fishing," he plaintively answered. He still
held his long rod, and the incongruity of it added to the

pathos of his despair. I reminded him of a bad river we had
before crossed, and how his mule had swum it safely with him

on her back. I promised to keep close to him, and help him
if need were, though I was confident if he left everything to

Cream there would be no danger. "Well, if he must, he must.
But, if anything happened to him, would I write and tell

Mary? I knew her address; leastways, if I didn't, it was in
his bag on the brown mule. And tell her I done my best."

'The water was so clear one could see every crack in the rock
beneath. Fortunately, I took the precaution to strip to my

shirt; fastened everything, even my socks, to the saddle;
then advancedcautiously ahead of William to the brink of the

chasm. We were, in fact, upon the edge of a precipice. One
could see to an inch where the gulf began. As my mare

stepped into it I slipped off my saddle; when she rose I laid
hold of her tail, and in two or three minutes should have

been safe ashore.
'Looking back to see how it had fared with William, I at once

perceived his danger. He had clasped his mule tightly round
the neck with his arms, and round the body with his long

legs. She was plunging violently to get rid of her load.
Already the pair were forty or fifty yards below me.

Instantly I turned and swam to his assistance. The struggles
of the mule rendered it dangerous to get at him. When I did

so he was partially dazed; his hold was relaxed. Dragging
him away from the hoofs of the animal, I begged him to put

his hands on my shoulders or hips. He was past any effort of
the kind. I do not think he heard me even. He seemed hardly

conscious of anything. His long wet hair plastered over the
face concealed his features. Beyond stretching out his arms,

like an infant imploring help, he made no effort to save
himself.

'I seized him firmly by the collar, - unfortunately, with my
right hand, leaving only my left to stem the torrent. But

how to keep his face out of the water? At every stroke I was
losing strength; we were being swept away, for him, to

hopeless death. At length I touched bottom, got both hands
under his head, and held it above the surface. He still

breathed, still puffed the hair from his lips. There was
still a hope, if I could but maintain my footing. But, alas!

each instant I was losing ground - each instant I was driven
back, foot by foot, towards the gulf. The water, at first

only up to my chest, was now up to my shoulders, now up to my
neck. My strength was gone. My arms ached till they could

bear no more. They sank involuntarily. William glided from
my hands. He fell like lead till his back lay stretched upon

the rock. His arms were spread out, so that his body formed
a cross. I paddled above it in the clear, smooth water,

gazing at his familiar face, till two or three large bubbles
burst upon the surface; then, hardly knowing what I was

doing, floated mechanically from the trapper's grave.
. . . . . . .

'My turn was now to come. At first, the right, or western,
bank being within sixty or seventy yards, being also my

proper goal, I struck out for it with mere eagerness to land
as soon as possible. The attempt proved unsuccessful. Very

well, then, I would take it quietly - not try to cross
direct, but swim on gently, keeping my head that way. By

degrees I got within twenty yards of the bank, was counting
joyfully on the rest which a few more strokes would bring me,

when - wsh - came a current, and swept me right into the
middle of the stream again.

'I began to be alarmed. I must get out of this somehow or
another; better on the wrong side than not at all. So I let

myself go, and made for the shore we had started from.
'Same fate. When well over to the left bank I was carried

out again. What! was I too to be drowned? It began to look
like it. I was getting cold, numb, exhausted. And - listen!

What is that distant sound? Rapids? Yes, rapids. My
flannel shirt stuck to, and impeded me; I would have it off.

I got it over my head, but hadn't unbuttoned the studs - it
stuck, partly over my head. I tugged to tear it off. Got a

drop of water into my windpipe; was choking; tugged till I
got the shirt right again. Then tried floating on my back -

to cough and get my breath. Heard the rapids much louder.
It was getting dark now. The sun was setting in glorious red

and gold. I noticed this, noticed the salmon rolling like
porpoises around me, and thought of William with his rod.

Strangest of all, for I had not noticed her before, little
Cream was still struggling for dear life not a hundred yards

below me; sometimes sinking, sometimes reappearing, but on
her way to join her master, as surely as I thought that I

was.
'In my distress, the predominant thought was the loneliness

of my fate, the loneliness of my body after death. There was
not a living thing to see me die.

'For the first time I felt, not fear, but loss of hope. I
could only beat the water with feeble and futile splashes. I

was completely at its mercy. And - as we all then do - I
prayed - prayed for strength, prayed that I might be spared.

But my strength was gone. My legs dropped powerless in the
water. I could but just keep my nose or mouth above it. My

legs sank, and my feet - touched bottom.
'In an instant, as if from an electric shock, a flush of

energy suffused my brain and limbs. I stood upright in an
almost tranquil pool. An eddy had lodged me on a sandbank.

Between it and the land was scarcely twenty yards. Through
this gap the stream ran strong as ever. I did not want to

rest; I did not pause to think. In I dashed; and a single
spurt carried me to the shore. I fell on my knees, and with

a grateful heart poured out gratitude for my deliverance.
. . . . . . .

'I was on the wrong side, the side from which we started.
The river was yet to cross. I had not tasted food since our

early meal. How long I had been swimming I know not, but it
was dark now, starlight at least. The nights were bitterly

cold, and my only clothing a wet flannel shirt. And oh! the
craving for companionship, someone to talk to - even Samson.

This was a stronger need than warmth, or food, or clothing;
so strong that it impelled me to try again.

'The poor sandy soil grew nothing but briars and small
cactuses. In the dark I kept treading on the little prickly

plants, but I hurried on till I came in sight of Samson's
fire. I could see his huge form as it intercepted the

comfortable blaze. I pictured him making his tea, broiling
some of William's trout, and spreading his things before the

fire to dry. I could see the animals moving around the glow.
It was my home. How I yearned for it! How should I reach

it, if ever? In this frame of mind the attempt was
irresistible. I started as near as I could from opposite the

two islands. As on horseback, I got pretty easily to the
first island. Beyond this I was taken off my feet by the

stream; and only with difficulty did I once more regain the
land.

My next object was to communicate with Samson. By putting
both hands to my mouth and shouting with all my force I made