Give little Cream
her head, sit still in your saddle, and she'll carry you
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 advanced cautiously 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.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 53 of 105
Words from 52906 to 53908
of 106633
