After their last hearty meal, which finished up the provisions, Sam
Willett and his friends felt better, stronger and warmer than they had
since the beginning of this wonderful voyage.
It is one of the blessings and charms of youth that while it enjoys the
present and anticipates the happiness of the future, it steadily ignores
all thoughts of coming afflictions.
Ike was boisterous in his hilarity; he danced about the fire, as if "the
squar meal" had had an intoxicating effect on him; and, at length,
unable to restrain himself, he burst into the following snatch from an
old plantation song:
"Oh! don't you know Miss Dinah Crane,
She's 'gwine to be married;
Glad am I, an' dat's a fac,
For berry long she's tarried.
"So fotch along de wine an' de hoe cake too,
De gumbo an' de cream,
An' don't fergit de weddin' cake
On wich we darkies dream!
"For we will larf an' sing all day,
Hooraw, hooraw, hooraw!
An' on de banjo sweetly play
With a zip, yaw, yaw--yaw, yaw!"
Even Ulna smiled at this performance, and Maj chased his tail and barked
till the canyon walls rang with the echoes.
The strip of shore, on which they were encamped, extended from their
landing place for some distance down the river, so before launching the
raft again, Sam thought it would be well for Ulna and himself to make an
examination as far as they could do so on foot.
Taking their rifles, which were loaded with metallic cartridges that the
water could not injure, they started off, first telling Ike and Wah Shin
to take advantage of their absence to get some sleep.
They walked and clambered along the shore for about half a mile, when
there came to their ears a hoarse, deep, monotonous roar.
"What is that?" asked Sam, coming to a sudden halt and laying his hand
on Ulna's arm.
"I don't know," was the quiet reply.
"From what direction does the sound come?"
"From down the river."
"It must be the water?"
"There is nothing else to make a noise down here."
"I once heard the roar of the great fall at Niagara, and that brings it
to my mind. Let us move on," said Sam.
Again they resumed their journey.
At times they were forced to creep along the edge, knee deep in water,
but they did not mind this.
After going about three hundred yards further down, they came to an
irregular rock, up whose sides they climbed in the hope of getting a
better view of the river below.
They were not disappointed in their purpose, but the prospect that met
their gaze was well calculated to dismay the stoutest heart.
Their vision was limited by a bend in the river a quarter of a mile
below, but between this and the rock on which they stood, the water was
white with foam as it roared and tumbled over a series of rapids, in the
midst of which black rocks appeared like the heads of monstrous
creatures.
This sight was so appalling that neither Sam nor Ulna could utter a word
for some seconds, but stood looking from the maddened waters into each
other's frightened face.
Sam was the first to speak:
"Oh, Ulna, that is awful!"
"Bad," was the laconic reply.
"What are we to do?"
"I cannot tell."
"We can't go back the way we came?"
"No," said Ulna, and he emphasized this opinion by a vigorous shake of
the head.
"We can't get out by climbing up the walls?"
"I wish we could," said Ulna.
"Then," continued Sam, "there are only two courses open to us."
"Only two."
"One is to try and go down the rapids on the raft."
"And the other," added Ulna, "is to remain where the raft now is and
starve to death."
"And have you a choice, Ulna."
"Yes, I have."
"What is it?"
"If I am to die, I want to die resisting."
"Then you are for trying the rapids?"
"I am; but I shall do as you say."
"I say 'go on.'"
Sam reached out and took Ulna's hand, and so they stood for some minutes
looking at the frightful rapids which they had decided to face.
It was now about noon, there was fully five hours of daylight left, and
they decided to avail themselves of it to test the rapids.
Sam reasoned that the thing had to be done, and the sooner the
experiment was made the better, and in addition to this he knew that
there was no more food left, and that from this time on himself and his
companions would grow weaker and weaker for the effort.
They turned to walk back, Sam clambering along the giddy ledge of the
rock which rose straight up from the water. He was a few yards in
advance of Ulna, for whose immediate safety he had no fear, when he was
brought to a sudden stand, and his heart stopped beating, and the cold
sweat came out on his forehead at hearing a short, quick cry of alarm
behind him.
The cry was followed by a splash, and turning, Sam saw that Ulna had
fallen from the rock into the fierce current that roared and foamed
above its base.
Sam threw aside his rifle and sprang back to the rescue of the young
Indian, but before he had gone ten feet Ulna was fifty yards away,
bravely battling with the maddened waters, above whose roar came the
words:
"God bless you! Farewell!"
Sam stood petrified with horror.
To plunge into the water and attempt to help Ulna in that way would be
madness.
Even as Sam watched he could see the brave face becoming more and more
indistinct as it rose and fell on the surges, and then with a wave of
the arm vanished out of sight behind the distant bend of the river.
Overcome with his emotions, Sam sat down on the rock, and pressing his
hand to his eyes, he cried as if his heart was breaking.
It was not for himself he grieved, nor would it be just to say that
these tears were an evidence of weakness in the character of our brave
young friend.
He loved the handsome Indian youth, as he might have loved a brother;
but this awful loss came with the memory of his other trials, so that
his emotion was a proof of his loyal heart and gentle nature.
The man or boy who is incapable of tears, it is safe to say, is also
incapable of a noble feeling.
Believing that Ulna had gone down the mad river to his death, Sam, as he
sat there, recalled that he owed a duty to the living.
Slinging his rifle on his back again, he retraced his steps to camp.
He found Ike, Wah Shin and the dog, all sleeping by the fire as
peacefully as if they were on downy beds in the midst of civilization.
Maj leaped up barking with joy and began to fawn on his young master.
This awoke Ike and Wah Shin, the former of whom declared as usual that
he had only just closed his eyes, "an' hadn't been asleep at all."
"We must make ready to start at once," said Sam. "Get the things on
board and tie them securely."
"All right, sah," said Ike, and he went to work with the energy of one
who had dined abundantly and slept well.
"Ulna, whele him go?" asked Wah Shin, stopping in the midst of loading
the raft and looking about.
"He has gone down the river," said Sam, and his sad face told the
Mongolian that something serious had happened.
"Him no gone gettee dlownded," gasped Wah Shin, and his eyes grew more
oblique with alarm.
"Drownded!" cried Ike. "Why, Ulna kin swim like a whole flock of ducks
in a mill pond."
"The river is very rough ahead," said Sam, "and after Ulna fell into the
rapids he could not get back."
"An' whar did he go to?" asked Ike.
"Down the river."
"To de bottom?"
"I don't know."
"Golly!" exclaimed Ike, "if de ribber's as rough as dat, den we'd bettah
stay whar we is."