THE PASSING OF BIG BOY
Hal helped Big Boy paddle for two hours, but he was so completely
exhausted at the end of that period that he had to stretch himself out
in the bottom of the craft. The Indian nodded understandingly and
pointed to his white friend’s head as if to say that he knew all along
what toll the fever had taken of his strength. Very wisely he had
reckoned that his tall friend could not stand the strain of the journey
alone.
Hal put out his hand and gave the Indian an affectionate slap. His
gratitude knew no bounds, for he realized more than ever that Big Boy’s
decision to come with him had been actuated by a high and noble motive,
the desire to help a fellow being weakened by fever. And no one knew
better than the Indian how weak his friend would be.
Hal was so deeply affected by this realization that he determined never
to let Big Boy out of his sight, never in his life. And during the long
night hours, though there was not a word spoken, nor a hand moved in
gesture, they found a mutual contentment in each other’s company.
The moon slipped down behind the clouds after midnight and they paddled
through the remaining dark hours. At dawn they came to a deserted
settlement and agreed to get something to eat before going further. Big
Boy motioned that the rest of the journey was going to be strenuous and
that they needed all the nourishment they could get.
He proved himself to be ingenious in the matter of catching fish with
his bow and arrow. And Hal watched him with something like awe when he
got a fire out of two sticks just by rubbing them together for an
amazingly short time.
Big Boy did the honors of cooking the fish also, and Hal had nothing to
do but sit down and help him eat them when they were finished broiling.
Needless to say he did justice to the Indian’s culinary accomplishments.
Hal noticed, however, that Big Boy’s appetite could top his own by a
pretty wide margin. In point of fact, he seemed to stuff, rather than
eat, and washed down the whole with tremendous draughts of river water.
However, he seemed contented and not at all distressed by any thoughts
of indigestion, and greeted his white friend’s questioning look with a
merry shake of his flat, black head.
After setting out again they paddled but a half hour when they came to a
waterfall and were confronted with the necessity of portage. For two
hours they struggled through the jungle with the canoe and came at last
to a stretch of smooth water.
But their good fortune was not lasting, for a half hour found them
confronting a series of rapids. Hal insisted upon doing his share and
took up a paddle, protesting that the breakfast of fish had given him
all the strength he needed for the task.
They raced through the first without incident, but before attempting the
second, a dangerous looking one, they held a sort of pow-wow. Hal was
decidedly against it, but Big Boy, by means of guttural grunts and
sounds, assured him that the thing could be accomplished with careful
paddling.
Consequently, they set out and, from the very first, experienced hectic
moments. For a few hundred yards the rocky cliffs compressed the
river-channel to a narrow gorge. Through this the water angrily forced
its way, venting its fury by sending up foaming spray and high, lashing
waves.
Big Boy motioned Hal at this juncture that he would do the paddling
alone, and as if on second thought he removed the wrist watch and gave
it to his friend. With a grin he motioned toward the spray foaming in
the gorge and shook his black head vociferously as if to say that he was
loath to get the watch wet.
Hal laughed and put it in his pocket for safe-keeping. The next second
they were headed for the gorge, shooting through it with lightning
speed. But halfway through, a wave struck the frail craft, water poured
in, and before they were able to bail it out, another wave caught them
and turned them completely over.
[Illustration: HAL AND BIG BOY WERE THROWN OUT OF THE CANOE.]
Hal came up under the overturned canoe and rapidly swam from under. Once
on the surface he looked about and saw that the Indian had been carried
quite a little distance downstream.
Hal called vociferously and swam rapidly, but the nearer he got the
stronger was the conviction that Big Boy was not as he should be. He
seemed to be floundering about in the current and, as the motion of the
water swirled him about, it was quite obvious from his expression that
he was unable to swim.
Cramps! Hal guessed it in a moment when he saw the Indian’s pale lips
and pain-contorted face. He was paying the penalty for a huge breakfast.
Hal called to him, motioned to him to hold on, but the Indian looked to
be sinking. Too, he was in the very heart of the current which was
gradually bearing him down to the torrent below. By this time, however,
his would-be rescuer was rapidly approaching the spot, endangering his
own life in the attempt.
Two waves in succession caught the Indian at this point and, just as Hal
stretched out to grasp him, he was carried out of reach and plunged into
a whirlpool. Conscious that there was no further hope, he lifted his
black head in smiling resignation, then was churned out of sight by the
roaring force of the water.
Hal cried out in despair, but just at that moment the floating canoe
came past and he reached out and grasped it.