"We are going to have a storm," remarked Howard.

"Yis; and a good-sized one, too."

"We shall have to find shelter for ourselves. If much rain falls, this gorge looks to me as if it will be filled with water."

"Worrah, now, but yez are a smart child!" exclaimed Tim O'Rooney, looking admiringly at the boy. "Scarcely mesilf would have thought of the same, and what a credit, therefore, that it should have come into your own."

"I see nothing so wonderful about that. Almost any one would see the danger we are in if we remain here when there is much rain falling. It is just the place for a stream of water."

"So it is—so it is; and yez can saa that there has wather been running over the stones upon which we are standing."

The storm which was so near at hand admonished them to lose no time in seeking shelter. This was a matter of small difficulty, as in such a wild, rugged place there were any number of retreats. They clambered up the path and over the rocks until they reached a point higher yet than where the antelope had stood when pierced by the bullet that had tumbled him over the cliff. They had brought a goodly portion of his meat with them, for there was no telling when they would dare fire a gun again.

A gaping, overhanging ledge, which fortunately was turned from the direction of the storm, was selected as their house, and here they and the dog nestled and waited for the storm to burst. A few large drops that cracked smartly upon the rocks and stones, was the herald of the coming deluge; and then, at the same moment, with a terrific flash and report, came the rain in torrents.

They stood and watched the storm as it raged, and when there was a momentary cessation Howard threw his blanket over his head and said:

"I will run out to the edge of that rock and see whether there is any water in the place where we took our dinner."

"Be careful yez don't tumble over," admonished Tim, feeling it his duty to say something.

"Never fear."

Howard stepped hastily to the spot and looked carefully over. A tiny stream was just beginning to run through the path they had occupied, which was increasing each moment, and would speedily reach the proportions of a torrent. But, although he saw this, there was something which interested him still more, and that was a party of five Indians attentively examining the remains of the antelope, and the signs around it, as if they were seeking their explanation. They looked down to the ground, and two of them pointed precisely in the direction which Tim and Howard had taken in leaving the place.

The rain began falling again more copiously than ever, but Howard would not have heeded it had he not been shrouded in the water-proof blanket. Those Indians had found their camp-fire and were at that moment discussing the best method of capturing him and Tim; but the rain came down so furiously that they finally darted away to seek shelter, and Howard thereupon hurried back to his friend and told him all that he had seen.

"That settles the matter," he added. "Elwood is in their hands, and if we aint careful we shall be with him, for they are searching for us."

"But they can't find us—that they can't."

"Why not?"

"This rain will wipe out our tracks as aisy as if yees had taken a cloth and done it yourself."

"That is true."

Howard was greatly relieved when he reflected that this was true, and that he and Tim were in no danger of capture from being pursued.

The storm lasted several hours, and when it was finished they came cautiously forth and made their way stealthily back to where they had left the canoe. They had deliberated long and earnestly regarding Elwood Brandon, and neither of them had any doubt but what he was in the hands of Indians. They had little fear of his being put to death, but believed he would be held a prisoner until either rescued by Shasta, or a party could be sent from the nearest post to ransom him. They had concluded to make all haste homeward and adopt this method of rescue.

And now, as they had given him up for a while, it is high time we took him in hand.



CHAPTER XLI.

A BOY LOST.

When Elwood Brandon separated from Howard Lawrence on the afternoon of their ramble in the woods, it was with the firm intention of making all haste around the range of hills, and there to unite with him in their hunt for Tim.

But, like too many boys, he suffered himself to be led from the sure path by the allurements of the false one. His example furnished a striking moral lesson, which he will doubtless remember to the day of his death.

When we are following the course which conscience tells us is the true one, although it may be rough and stony, and at times most difficult to keep, yet the knowledge of what awaits us at the end should be proof against temptations to turn aside. Woe to him who chides the voice of conscience and listens to that of the charmer!

Elwood had gone some distance, and was walking very rapidly, when he came abruptly upon the opening in the rocks which has been mentioned in another place.

"Ah! here is a shorter cut across," was his reflection as he saw it, and not stopping to think further, he turned and walked rapidly through it. "I will beat Howard," and he smiled at the thought. "What will he think when he gets around to see me waiting for him? I know he will run so as to be there first."

Thus hopeful, Elwood hurried forward, thinking only of the surprise he would give his cousin when they met again. As he found the path taking a most sinuous course, a dim idea came through his head that perhaps after all he had not gained so much by "cutting across." He would have turned back as it was but for the rapidly increasing darkness and the belief that he must speedily emerge from the eastern side of the hills.

While walking through a narrow part of the path, he was alarmed by the rattling of some dirt, stones and debris over his head, and before he could retreat or advance he was stricken on the head by several pieces with such violence that he staggered and fell to the ground.

He was not senseless, but somewhat stunned, and placed his hand on his head to see whether it was cut. Finding no blood, he arose to his feet and replied to the whistle of Howard, which had been ringing in his ears for the last ten minutes.

Immediately after, he was taken with a sickness at the stomach, the result, doubtless, of the mental shock received. Such was his faintness and nausea that he lay down upon the ground for relief. When a boy feels so sick—as shown also by older persons in seasickness—he generally becomes perfectly indifferent to everything else in the world. Elwood concluded that Howard might whistle as long as he chose, and he would reply when he felt able. As for the gathering darkness, wild animals and savages, what did he care for them? They could exist and get along without his taking any trouble to think about them.

And so he lay still until his sickness diminished and was gradually succeeded by drowsiness, which was not long in merging into slumber.

Whoever yet remembered the moment he went to sleep? Whoever lay still to gain a few moments of slumber without obtaining far more than he expected, and regretting it when his intellect became sharp and clear?

It was near midnight when Elwood awoke, and all was blank darkness. He called to Howard and Tim, and not until he had felt around with his hands, did he remember his situation. Then it all came to him.

"This is a pretty piece of business," he thought, as he arose to his feet. "Poor Howard is half-frightened to death, and I suppose is still hunting for me. But I don't hear him."

He listened, but all was still.

"It may be that he has grown tired, but will hear me if I call to him."

Whereupon he whistled again and again, and shouted and listened and then repeated his signals, but there was no response. But for the intervening hills his cry would have reached the two watchers by the river shore, but with twice the penetrating power he still would have failed to reach them.

"Well, the best thing I can do is to wait here until morning, and then I can make my way back again."

His sickness was gone, but he felt somewhat chilled from lying upon the ground with no extra covering, although the night was quite moderate, if not really warm. The contact with the ground had made a portion of his body cold, and the sluggish circulation prompted him to exercise.

"I hardly know whether to stay here or to go back to the woods and take refuge in a tree. Some animals may find me here, while I shall be safe if I am only twenty feet above ground."

The vivid recollection of the wolverines gave him this fear and finally induced him to leave the place and seek shelter.

But at the moment of starting he was confronted by an alarming difficulty. He found it impossible to decide upon the proper course to follow, and could not tell with certainty which way led in or out. This resulted from his having turned around several times in his effort to restore warmth and circulation on awaking from his sleep. Had he not done this the position in which he lay during slumber would have told him the truth.

"How strange!" he reflected, vainly seeking to recover from his bewilderment. "If I only had a little light I think I could tell, but this is rather delicate business when I don't know whether I may go over the rocks or not."

He leaned against the wall of the path and thought. At last he believed he knew which way to turn, and facing backward he began to pick his way out. This, we may say, was the right course, and had he only persevered in it would have brought him out of the hills into the woods, restored him to Tim and Howard a few hours later and saved him one of the most momentous experiences of his life.

He had retreated but a few rods when he became sure he had made a mistake and was going wrong. It seemed from his contact with the rocks and the curious windings it made, that he had never passed over the ground, but was advancing further into the hills.

"This will not do," he said aloud, as he paused. "I am astray and must change about."

He did so at once, and believing, of a surety, that he was now upon the right path he walked much faster than was prudent. The truth was, the associations of the plate were such as to make him in a hurry to get away from it. He knew he would feel relieved when he could get once more into the open air of the woods. A strange fear that the overhanging rock would fall or imprison him caused him to hasten still more. After walking some time further he slackened his steps.

"I must be pretty near the opening, judging by the distance I have come; and if such be the case—"

Further words were checked, for at that instant Elwood stepped off the path and went down—down!



CHAPTER XLII.

A DREARY NIGHT.

Elwood fell about twenty feet, striking the solid earth, without losing his own perpendicular position. He was considerably pained, but not seriously hurt. His rifle had fallen from his hand, and was not found again until daybreak, as not knowing where he stood, whether upon the edge of some precipice or ravine, he scarcely dared move a limb.

Ah! if the night was so weary to the watchers by the river shore, it was much more so to him for whom they thus lay awake. Utter midnight blackness all around, the profound and impressive stillness made more profound and impressive by the trickling of some current near, the occasional glimpse of some tiny star twinkling among the dark, straggling clouds overhead; such was Elwood Brandon's situation and surroundings.

His only resource was thought, and the direction which this took for a time was anything but a relief. He saw that he himself was to blame for the disaster of the day. It was he who proposed this ramble, and he who insisted so strenuously upon separating from Howard in the journey around the hills. And then his present situation resulted wholly from his own foolishness—to call it no milder term—in entering an unknown path with the simple hope of reaching a designated point a few minutes in advance of his friend, whom he knew well enough had carried out to the letter their agreement, and was waiting his coming.

Had Howard found Tim O'Rooney? That was the next question. Or was he still lingering on the other side of the hills, waiting for the morning to renew his hunt for himself before he sought out his companion? The latter seemed the most probable supposition to Elwood, and the odd whim took him that his cousin was close at hand and listening for the familiar signal. So he placed his fingers to his mouth and repeated the whistle which they had used so many times between them.

He did this again and again, but there was no response, and he finally concluded that it was rather a monotonous manner of passing the time and ceased, and again gave himself up to thought.

If he ever lived to see his friends at home what an experience would be his to tell! The burning steamer, the hours spent in drifting ashore, the wanderings through the wilds of California, this adventure among the hills—surely they were enough to last a life-time.

Now and then a cold draft of wind swept by him, as though the temperature of the air was changing. It was in fact the premonition of the gathering storm to which we have referred in another place.

Elwood had been in his constrained position a couple of hours when he was subjected to a terrible fright. Suddenly some dirt and stones commenced moving near him and he felt it strike his feet. He was fearful that a landslide was about to take place, but did not dare attempt to get out of the way. He could only shrink closer against the rocks, pray to Heaven for protection, and await the issue.

The pebbles rattled around him for a long time, and when they had nearly ceased he learned that the whole tumult was caused by some wild animal. This dissipated all fear of being engulfed by a landslide, but scarcely relieved him. It was simply a change of species in the danger.

He could hear the footsteps of the animal as it walked back and forth. They sounded above his head, but he could not judge with certainty. Several times it gave a low growl, from which he was sure that it was dangerous, and if it knew of his presence and could reach him would speedily end his reckless conduct forever.

The animal was still for a while and the boy was indulging in the belief that it had gone, when he heard its footsteps so near that his hair fairly rose with terror. He stooped down and felt around in the darkness for his gun, but it was not within reach. He caught a huge stone and held it in reserve for defense.

Straining his eyes through the darkness, he fancied he could see a dark object above him; but it was only fancy, for to his excited imagination the most extraordinary phantoms were flitting before him—floating in the air, around and above him, like the wonderful visions that visit us in delirium—until he closed his eyes to shut out the tormenting figures.

Perhaps, after all, the presence of the wild animal was the means of saving him, for it kept his mind down to the hard, practical fact that imminent danger was close at hand, and all his thoughts were needed to meet it. He stood a long time grasping the stone and expecting the assault; but the tumult finally ceased and all became still.

When Elwood looked up again he saw that it was growing light, and day was indeed breaking.



CHAPTER XLIII.

WANDERINGS.

The light increased each moment, and Elwood Brandon soon saw the position in which he was placed. He had walked along the path and fallen abruptly off, alighting on a projection that ran along the edge of the ravine, and was of sufficient width to only comfortably hold him. Had he gone a yard forward he would have fallen over to another ledge, although this was not more than a dozen feet below. Indeed, his rifle had done this, and now lay on this broad band of earth and gravel, which here sloped so gradually down to the bottom of the ravine that it could be descended without difficulty.

His first proceeding, after thanking Heaven for the protection of the night, was to let himself down to where his rifle lay. An examination proved it uninjured, and with its possession came a feeling of confidence and safety such as he had not felt for a moment during the hours of darkness.

"Now, if that wild creature, whatever it was, would like to introduce itself, I am prepared."

And he looked around as if he expected its appearance; but it had left some time before. At first he was at a loss to understand what it had chosen as its parade ground, but, concluded it must have been the very path from which he had fallen, and where, had he remained, he could not have avoided falling into its power.

Elwood could not see the possibility of extricating himself by the same way in which he had entered. In some places it was necessary to climb a score or two feet up the perpendicular side of the ravine; and as there was no means at hand for doing this, he thought it best to press on down among the hills in the hope of discovering a new way of egress, or an easier access to the paths behind him.

He wandered rather aimlessly forward, his path being over loose, rattling stones, constantly descending, until he reached the hard-packed earth, and judged himself to be in about the lowermost part of the valley. On every hand rose the ridges, rocks and peaks of the hills, until, as he looked up at the cloudy sky so far above him, he seemed but the merest pigmy.

As he turned his head he caught sight of something a few rods ahead that puzzled him. For some time he could not make out its meaning, but finally he saw that it was a smouldering camp-fire, while around it were stretched five Indians—although at the moment he could not be positive as to their number—their blankets over them and they seemingly sound asleep.

He concluded that the best thing he could do was to leave that immediate neighborhood as speedily as possible. He looked hurriedly around for the best line of retreat. It was difficult to decide, and he was still debating with himself when, as he glanced at the terrifying forms, he fancied, or really saw, one of them move. Without further reflection he darted a rod or two backward and shrunk in behind a breach in the rocks.

This was no hiding-place in case the Indians came along this path. He could not conceal his body, as it was merely a niche such as would have been made had this portion of the rocky wall been set back about a foot from the rest. If the savages left the ravine by another direction there was no cause for fear, but if they came this way he had good reason to tremble.

He had scarcely ensconced himself in this place of refuge when from the woods and rocks above him came the clear, echoing whistle of Howard Lawrence. It startled him as if it were the whoop of this Indians so close at hand. Of course he dare not reply to it, for it could only precipitate his capture.

But he trembled more for the safety of his friends than himself. They were advancing hurriedly in their search, without one suspicion of the enemies so near them. Had he dared, to make a noise it would have have been one of warning for Tim and Howard to hasten away ere it was too late; but even that small comfort was denied him.

He peered cautiously out and saw that the Indians were awake, but curiously enough appeared to pay no heed to the whistling, which to the boy were uttered twenty times as often and as loud as there was any need. One of the savages was stirring the fire with a stick, while the others were looking stupidly on.

Drawing back his head, Elwood looked up among the rocks in the direction of the signals for some sign of his friends. He was startled into a suppressed exclamation by the sight of Tim O'Rooney's hat and face passing along the path above him; but before he could catch his eye it was gone and he saw it no more.

The whistling sound now gradually retreated until it sounded quite far away, and Elwood began to feel more at ease, although not entirely so. He wondered greatly that the suspicions of the Indians were not excited, and that they did not hasten away at once to destroy his friends.

The report of Tim O'Rooney's gun that slew the antelope sounded fearfully near, and sent a shiver of terror through the youngster crouching in his hiding-place. At the same time, as he looked stealthily out, he saw that it had attracted the attention of the Indians. All five were standing on their feet, with their loose blankets hung over their shoulders, and gesticulating with their arms. The sound of their voices was plainly heard where he stood, and a thrill of hope ran through him as he imagined that he recognised in one of them a resemblance to that of Shasta, the Pah Utah.

At this point the boy observed the storm gathering overhead—the sullen booming of thunder, the black clouds sweeping tumultuously across the sky, the vivid spears of lightning darting in and out among them. A cool wind whistled through the gorge overhead, and dust and leaves came whirling in the air and settled all around him.

The boy looked above, and saw that when the storm did burst it was sure to spend its full fury upon his head. Not the least particle of shelter covered him, and he had to expect a full drenching; but this he was willing to bear, if it would only tend to keep the attention of the Indians diverted. It seemed to him very probable, as he stood between them and his own friends, that in following up the suspicious report of the rifle they would pass directly by him, in which case he had about one chance out of a thousand of remaining unseen by them.

Elwood did not dare to look out, so fearful was he of being seen. He believed that the heads of the savages were turned toward him, in which case the risk was too great. He therefore, unheedful of the large drops that were beginning to patter around him, stood and listened.

Hark! He hears their tread! His heart throbs faster than ever, as he knows they are coming toward him! Closer and closer he shrinks to the rock, as if to bury himself in its flinty surface.

All at once, an Indian, too tall and muscular to be Shasta, steps to view and passes beyond him without turning his head; the second is about the right height, but the one furtive glance stole at him shows that he is a stranger; so as regards the third; the fourth is too short, he passes on in the procession. The fifth and last Elwood at first believed to be Shasta, but a second look showed him his mistake. Had he held any doubts they were removed by the Indian abruptly pausing, turning his face full toward him, and uttering the "hoogh!" of surprise, as he saw the boy cowering against the rocks.



CHAPTER XLIV.

A OLD ACQUAINTANCE.

The instant the hindmost Indian uttered his exclamation of surprise, the others paused, and thus, before Elwood Brandon fully realized his danger, he found himself confronted by the whole force. Resistance or flight was not to be thought of, so he merely stood still and tremblingly awaited their will regarding him.

They were plainly surprised at finding a boy pressing against the rooks with an appearance of the greatest terror, and they gazed at him a moment as if uncertain what to do about it. However, they didn't seem to be particularly savage or blood-thirsty, nor frightened, as they kept their guns in their hands and their knives in their belts.

He who stood nearest to Elwood reached out his brawny arm, grasped him firmly and drew him out from his hiding-place. All then scrutinized him as if to make sure whether he was some wild animal or human being. Satisfied on this point, the boy was then shoved forward so as to be between the savages, and as they stepped off he was motioned to do the same. Elwood understood that he was a prisoner, and he philosophically submitted to his fate.

As yet they had not disturbed his weapons; but he had gone a short distance only when the Indian directly behind him placed his hand upon the muzzle of the gun which was protruding over the youngster's shoulder and began drawing it. The latter disliked very much to part with the rifle, and held it as tightly as possible; but as the savage only drew it the more powerfully, he finally let go and it instantly went from his possession.

Elwood could not forbear looking around at the one who had thus deprived him of his property. As he gazed into his face he was at a loss to understand the expression. The Indian fixed his black eyes upon him, but his lips were closed and not a feature moved or twitched. The boy could not withstand the fierceness of those orbs and was glad to turn his head again.

They walked quite rapidly up the path, making a turn that gave them a very steep ascent. The thunder was booming louder than ever, and the rain by this time was falling furiously. The party hurried forward until they reached the camp which Tim O'Rooney and Howard had so recently deserted. Here Elwood took the liberty of protecting himself by backing against the overhanging rock. This was precisely the position which he occupied when Howard Lawrence gazed over and missed seeing him by such a narrow chance.

When the descent of the rain became so copious as to scatter the savages, two of them ran up beside Elwood and imitated his action in protecting himself from the descending deluge. This was only a partial success, yet much preferable to standing in the open air and receiving the full pelting of the storm.

It will be remembered that Howard Lawrence waited until he saw the Indians hurry away for shelter, when he returned to Tim O'Rooney and the two effected a safe retreat from the dangerous locality. They saw nothing more of the savages, and their conjecture that Elwood was a prisoner among them was merely a conjecture, although absolutely correct.

The tiny stream running so quietly at the feet of the two aboriginal Americans and Elwood Brandon increased so rapidly that it was evident it would speedily become a torrent that would sweep them off their feet, and that the only safety was to effect as speedy an escape as possible. Taking him between them, they started directly up the path in the direction of their companions. The falling rain and splashing water almost blinded Elwood, but he pressed bravely forward until conscious that they were beneath some kind of covering, and looking around, saw that they stood in a sort of cave, and where they had rejoined the three Indians who had fled some time before.

The shelter proved a secure one, although it was reached rather late to be of much benefit to Elwood, who was thoroughly wetted to the skin. He was, however, rather pleased at the lenient disposition shown by his captors. They had not offered him the least violence, rudeness or insult, and appeared to maintain a very indifferent watch over him. He did not believe they intended him any bodily harm, although he trembled at the consequences when they joined another party or should reach their own homes. They probably intended to hold him a prisoner so long as he was no particular trouble to them; but their leniency was more the result of indifference than of genuine kindness—and indifference that would as soon witness death as life, and that would not stretch out the hand to avert the impending doom.

The storm raged with unabated fury for several hours, and the tiny stream, whose murmur could scarcely be heard as it coursed its way through the hills, was now swelled to the dimensions of a torrent, and roared through its course with a clamor almost deafening. A vast amount of water had fallen within the few hours, and it would have been very perilous had any of the party remained where the fire that cooked the antelope was kindled. A yellow stream some six feet in depth rushed furiously through the narrow passage, like some river when compressed into its narrow canyon.

The Indians stood as motionless as the rocks themselves until the storm was over. Each had his blanket slung over his shoulder, extending down to his knees, and effectually protecting their bodies from the rain which had so thoroughly soaked poor Elwood. None of them sported the defiant scalp-locks so common among the more northern Indians; but their long, black, stiff hair, resembling precisely that of a horse's mane, dangled around their shoulders, neck and ears and over their breasts. Mixed in among the hair on the crown were a number of painted feathers, which, having had a touch of rain, drooped down like those of an humbled chanticleer that has been rescued from the river by some kind hand. Their faces being daubed over with green, yellow and red, mixed and mingled with a sublime disregard of proportion, gave their features a peculiarly unnatural appearance, such as we see when we survey our particular friends through differently and highly colored pieces of glass. They were fine specimens of the "noble red man" that are occasionally met with now-a-days; but they are of that species of sights of which it may be said "distance lends enchantment to the view." However, they were happy, for as yet they had not come in contact with civilization, and had had no taste for the white man's "fire-water," that scourge of the aboriginal race, and which seems destined finally to sweep them from the continent.

Elwood occupied himself in looking from one of these Indians to the other, and speculating regarding their thoughts and opinions about himself, of whose presence they seemed so unconscious. Indeed, they scarcely looked at him except when he sneezed, and then their heads shot round as suddenly as if they were moved by machinery and the spasm had let on the steam.

Finally, when the falling of the rain ceased, two of the Indians went out to look for the remainder of their prisoner's party, which they knew, if not already there, had been so recently among the hills. The vast rush of water, of course, had obliterated all signs where they had made any, and they could only hope to find them by discovering the trail made since the storm, or by the sight of themselves.

Not a word did the savages exchange with each other. They appeared to understand what each thought, and what duty was required of them, which duty for the present resembled that of watching and waiting.

As the day wore away the boy began to feel chilly and hungry. His wet clothes were anything but comfortable, and his hollow stomach was a poor protection against the sinking feeling. As his captors showed no disposition to leave the place, or even to change their statue-like positions, he began to grow anxious. He feared an attack of sickness if his wants were not supplied; and after debating with himself a few moments, he walked up to the tallest Indian and motioned that he needed something to eat.

The reply was startling and decisive. The dusky rascal surveyed him sharply a moment, and then drew his knife and raised it in a menacing manner over his head. And thereupon Elwood retreated to his position, and concluded he wasn't quite as hungry as he first imagined.

It is hard to tell what this singular captivity of Elwood Brandon's would have eventuated in had not an unexpected diversion occurred in his favor. Just as it was getting dark, the two Indiana who had gone out at the close of the storm returned. They had a companion with them, and we leave our readers to imagine what the boy's feelings were when he recognized in the third his old friend Shasta, the Pah Utah.



CHAPTER XLV.

A FRIEND IN NEED.

When the Pah Utah entered the cave he did not appear to notice Elwood Brandon. The latter attributed this to the semi-darkness in which he stood, and was about to go forward and claim his friendship when something restrained him, and he concluded to wait until the Indian first recognized him.

Shasta exchanged a few words with his friends, and immediately several of them went out in the darkness. When they returned, which was very speedily, they each bore a goodly bundle of sticks and kindlings. In what part of the wide creation they obtained them, directly after such a deluge of rain, it is impossible to tell, but American Indians have a peculiar faculty of doing such odd things.

A few minutes later a blaze sprung out from the center of the bundle placed in the middle of the cave, and when Elwood looked downward toward it, he saw that Shasta was kneeling before the pile engaged in igniting it. As the flame flared out and illuminated the cave, the Pah Utah looked up and met the eyes of Elwood. For an instant, his black eyes were fixed upon him, and then he placed his finger to his lips and looked down again. The boy understood it all. He didn't know anything of the Pah Utah.

The fire burned vigorously and soon diffused a genial warmth throughout the cave. It was most grateful indeed to Elwood, who approached and subjected himself to a toasting process. The savages offered no objection, and he soon managed to secure a pleasant warmth, and partially to dry his damp clothes.

He could not prevent himself from continually glancing at Shasta, but he never once caught his eye, and understanding the Indian's wishes, he compensated for this impertinence by staring twice as long at the other hideous visages.

After all the great want of Elwood was food. He had fasted for thirty hours, and was faint and feeble. A month before such severe abstinence would have left him unable to stand; but the severe deprivation and hardship of the last week, united with its firm, buoyant constitution, and his freedom from the degrading use of tobacco, had developed a strength and endurance remarkable in one so young. He felt that he could wait until the next day without a mouthful, and still be able to travel; but the fainting, craving, hollow feeling rendered him uncomfortable and caused more than one longing look around the cavern and in the faces of his dusky-hued friends; but if the Indians understood his suffering they certainly did not care enough about them to give them heed.

His hope was in the Pah Utah, but his situation was such as to deprive him of the expression of this hope. Shasta had given him to understand in an unmistakable manner that for the present they were to remain strangers; and no matter what his distress might be, he dare not disregard this command.

Yet Elwood Brandon believed, if the Indian understood his case, he would find some means to relieve him, slight though it was. Finally he decided upon his course of action.

Walking up to the tall Indian, who had received his previous request in such a threatening manner, and halting when at a safe distance, he motioned to him for something to place in his mouth. The unfeeling fellow scrutinized the boy a moment, and then coolly turned his back upon him, and acted as though the supplication had not been made.

He was equally unsuccessful with the others, and the refusal of Shasta was made in a most emphatic manner. Glaring at the boy like an enraged tiger, he brandished his knife and sprung toward him with such a curdling yell that the youngster sprung trembling back to the furtherest verge of the cavern, and the eyes of the other Indians were all turned toward the expected tragedy. But Elwood wasn't frightened—not a bit; he understood what it all meant.

The performance was followed by a conversation between Shasta and the tall Indian, who doubtless belonged to the Pah Utah nation or some tribe friendly with them. It's precise import Elwood found impossible to determine, but he could not avoid a feeling of uneasiness when he saw by unmistakable signs that it referred to himself.

It looked very much as though Shasta was urging immediate disposal of the prisoner, and his friend was strenuously maintaining a different action. The Pah Utah showed great excitement, very often turning and gesticulating toward Elwood, and once or twice he look a step or two in that direction, as if he had resolved on a certain and speedy death for him.

Finally, he appeared to yield the point, and turned his back upon his disputant and walked to the fire. As he did so his face was revealed alone to Elwood Brandon, and looking toward him, the boy again saw him place his finger to his lips and give that warning expression, which said as plainly as words, "Don't be frightened; all things are working right!"

This was certainly gratifying, but our young friend was already satisfied upon this point, and would have much preferred a more substantial mark of friendship in the shape of something to supply the craving within. But on the very eve of despair he was delighted to see a couple of Indians—whose absence he had noted for the last half-hour—return heavily laden with fish. These were immediately taken in charge, by Shasta, and the savor of them as they were cooking drove the famishing boy almost frantic.

While he sat with longing eyes, watching the motions of the cook, one of the fat roasted fellows suddenly shot from his hand and fell into the lap of the boy. The Pah Utah did not raise his head, and the act looked as if it were a voluntary one upon the part of the fish to escape the hands of its tormentors—so dexterously was the whole thing done.

Elwood did not stop to thank his considerate friend, but devoured the food precisely in the fashion that a boy attacks a pile of gingerbread which he has been expecting and longing for during a half-day. When he had finished the fish, another in just as prime condition dropped into his lap, apparently from the top of the cave above.

This satisfied his hunger, and he arose to his feet, casting his eyes toward Shasta, and testifying by his looks the gratitude which he dare not express audibly. He remained in the rear of the cavern, patiently waiting the pleasure of the Pah Utah regarding himself.

The Indians completed their meal, and then exchanged a few words, when they prepared to leave. Elwood watched them with interest, and when the tall fellow motioned for him to come forward, he did so with alacrity, and took him place in the rear of the line which was formed. Glancing back as they were about to start, he saw by the light of the fire that the one immediately behind him was Shasta.

The night was utterly dark—above, below and all around. The hand of the Pah Utah was placed upon his shoulder, as if to guide him aright, and the march began.

Of course it was impossible for Elwood to tell where he was going, but he followed blindly the direction of him behind for a hundred yards, when he knew by the brushing of his hands against the sides that they were passing through a narrow passage. All at once he felt himself seized by an iron grip from behind, lifted from his feet and tossed into the air. He did not fall back in the path they were traversing, but lit lightly upon a ledge, where he concluded to remain until he heard further from the gentleman who had elevated him to that position.



CHAPTER XLVI.

WHAT SHASTA DID.

The night was still, and the regular tramp of the Indians sounded like the march of a file of soldiers, as they passed over the grass-covered earth. Elwood listened, hardly daring to breathe, as the tread grew fainter, fainter, fainter still, then died out; then was revived by a sigh of the night air, and all was still.

The boy raised his eyes and looked upward. Through the dark clouds drifting tumultuously across the sky he detected the glimmer of a star or two, and in that moment of deep solemnity a passage of the Holy Bible came to him.

"They wandered in the wilderness in a solitary way; they found no city to dwell in."

"Hungry and thirsty, their souls fainted in them."

"When they cried unto the Lord in their trouble, and he delivered them out of their distress."

It came from his heart, and he repeated it over again.

How beautiful! How appropriate to the situation! The tears welled to his eyes, and his heart overflowed at the repeated remembrance of the all-merciful Father, whose eye alone saw him and whose ear alone heard the thankfulness that would find expression.

He fell into a sweet reverie, from which he was awakened by a slight noise below. He leaned his head over the ledge and listened. All at once he heard a soft rush, and the next moment an Indian was holding on to the edge of the tabular-like projection with one hand, while his other was outstretched and placed upon his body.

"Is that you, Shasta?"

"Oogh! Sh-e-asta!"

"All right! I am waiting for you."

The hand closed upon his right arm; he was lifted bodily as if he were an infant, and held in mid-air; and the next instant the Pah Utah dropped lightly to the earth, and the two stood upon their feet. The Indian uttered an exclamation which seemed to be one of inquiry, and the boy made answer in this manner:

"I am ready for anything, Shasta; lead the way."

Instead of allowing him to walk, as Elwood confidently expected, the Pah Utah flung him over his shoulder and then started on a long, loping trot up the path. His extraordinary agility and muscular power made the weight he carried of the same effect as if it were his rifle he was thus transporting.

This rapid progress continued but a few minutes, when he sunk into a walk—one of long strides, such as would have compelled the boy to a moderate run to equal. He could tell that he was going up quite an ascent, but toward what point it was impossible to tell. Occasionally his hand or his foot struck the projecting rocks, and the rush of the wind now and then against his face told when they were passing through the more open space.

Wonderful indeed was the skill of the Pah Utah, that in the dense darkness showed him, just where and just the outlay of strength that would land his young white friend upon the shelf of safety. Equally extraordinary was the woodcraft that brought him back to the precise spot, and enabled him to thread his way through the impenetrable gloom with the surety of the mountain chamois, which bounds over the fastnesses of the Alps at midday.

Elwood was quiescent, for he know whose hand held him upon those brawny shoulders, and he felt that the moccasined foot which touched the earth so lightly was too sure to miss its hold, and the heart throbbing within that dusky bosom pulsated too powerfully with the common humanity of our nature ever to falter or hesitate in its work of love.

This singular means of progress was continued for the better part of an hour, when the Indian paused and placed him gently on his feet. The sky, which had partially cleared, enabled him to see that they had emerged from the ridge of hills whose entrance had been so eventful to him, and they now stood in the open woods.

Elwood Brandon admitted to himself that the work of Shasta was now finished, and he fully expected to be left alone in the forest to seek his way back to his friends; but if he thought so the Pah Utah certainly did not.

Even in that moment the boy could not fail to notice that the Indian's breathing could not be heard. Not the slightest panting nor exhaustion from the tremendous exertion undergone!

Shasta waited but a moment, and then gripping Elwood by the wrist he began threading his way through the forest. As he did so, instead of allowing the youngster to walk by his side, he held his arm backward, so that to all intents and purposes the boy was following behind him, and yet at such an angle that their feet did not interfere with each other.

Not once did either the Pah Utah or his dependent strike a tree. Often did they graze the back, and brush through the limbs and undergrowth, but the uplifted arm of the Indian parted asunder the obstructions, and opened the way, as does the snow plow of the locomotive to the engine that drives it forward and the train coming behind.

Whether the marvelous vision of the Pah Utah penetrated the Egyptian darkness or not, cannot be said. The veteran backwoodsman, as he strides through the midnight forest, seems to feel the presence of each tree-trunk as he approaches it, just as the fingers of pianists strike the piano keys with such bewildering certainty, without their once looking at them.

Onward they pressed, Elwood only now and then able to catch a glimpse of his faithful guide, who never vouchsafed a word or exclamation for his benefit. There was no need of it. Both fully understood each other, and the boy did not attempt to divert the attention which was so needed, at the present time, for the work before him.

Finally Shasta seemed to hesitate—not the hesitation of doubt and uncertainty, but as if he had neared if not reached his destination, and had slackened his pace that he might not pass the exact point.

He was not long in finding the proper spot, and Elwood could see that he was stooping down and busy at something. While he was closely scrutinizing him, he suddenly became aware that they stood beside the river, and the Pah Utah was engaged with his canoe. It occupied him but a moment, when he turned around, lifted the boy over and laid him down upon the blanket which was spread over the bottom of the boat, the remainder was folded carefully around his body, and then the Indian stood back, as if to command his young friend to go to sleep without any delay or questioning.

The boy had lain but a short time when he found the blanket so intolerably warm that he threw a portion from him. It was instantly and rather roughly replaced—evidence that Shasta meant that his wishes should be obeyed. At any rate the boy thought so, and dared not repeat the act.

The great warmth of the blanket caused Elwood to break out into a copious perspiration from head to foot, and caused him almost to gasp for breath; but when he seemed only to meditate on relieving himself of the superabundant clothing, the dusky watcher leaned forward to see whether he dared violate his implied commands. It looked very much as though the Pah Utah was acting as a physician to his youthful friend.



CHAPTER XLVII.

STILL WAITING.

Tim O'Rooney and Howard Lawrence, after making their way out of the range of hills to the river-side, where their canoe lay, waited until dark, in accordance with their agreement, before venturing out upon the river. They were quite uneasy, and to prevent their trail revealing them they dropped a few hundred yards down the shore, where they awaited the coming of darkness.

"Worrah! worrah!" said Tim with an immense sigh, "this is a bad day when we came to leave the youngster with the rid gintleman. A fine youngster was the same—bowld and presumin'. It's a qua'ar failin', Masther Howard, that comes to me."

"Yes, I am sad enough, too."

"Ah! but it is not exactly that be the towken of another faaling intirely."

"What is it then?"

"Whin it's yourself that is lost and awandtherin' off by yourself all alone, and nobody with yees, then I thinks it's yees that I loves more nor him that stays with me. But now, whin it's Elwood—God bless him!—that's gone, he's dearer to me than all the rest of the world, not exceptin' yourself. But," and Tim scratched his head in great perplexity, "it's the same that puzzles me sorely. Could yees be afther accounting for it?"

"Elwood and I both know that you think a great deal of us, and no doubt it is because your affection is so equally divided."

"That's it. Yees have made it all plain. I likes each of yees more than the other, and both of yees a great deal the most, whither be the towken of takin' yees apart or together, or takin' both of yees separate, and also wid each other."

Tim nodded his head again and again, as if to signify that it was clear to his mind. Perhaps it was; but if so, one may doubt whether it was as clearly expressed.

"There's another thing that troubles me," added the Irishman, with one of those great inhalations of breath which seem to fill the entire being.

"What is that?"

"Me pipe has gone out, and I hasn't the maans convanient to relight it."

"That is a small infliction which you can well afford to bear. I am only anxious for the night, that we may speed on our way home to get assistance for poor Elwood."

"Yis, if it's bist."

And just in that exclamation Tim O'Rooney echoed the sentiments of his companion. Ever since leaving the range of hills, with the resolve to hurry away in search of help, the question had been constantly rising in his mind: "Is it best to do so?"

He tried to put it out of hearing, with the determination that he had already decided; but, as if it were the pleadings of conscience, it would not be stifled, and it came again and again, until when Tim spoke it seemed almost as loud as his.

"I can't make up my mind about that," said he. "When we left the hills I had not a moment's doubt but that he was in the hands of the Indians, where there was great danger of our getting ourselves; but then we are not sure of it, and suppose we go away and leave him wandering through the woods until he is captured or is obliged to give himself up to keep from starving. I imagine him following along the shore of the river looking for us——"

"There! there! do yez shtop! No more for me; I've plenty," and the Irishman drew his sleeve across his eyes, as if he were wiping an undue accumulation of moisture, while Howard Brandon was scarcely less affected at the touching picture which he had drawn, and which he felt might be realized from his own remissness.

"I am sure I cannot tell which is for the best," he added in great perplexity. "If a prisoner, he may be able to get away."

"Yis, yees are right; some dark night he can give the owld haythen the slip, and make thracks for the river."

"And who knows but he has been able to elude them, and is only waiting until dark to hunt us up?"

"Yez are right agin; I was about to obsarve the same myself."

There was one view of the case, which if it did occasionally force itself upon the attention of Howard, he resolutely refused to utter a reference to it. It was that Elwood had been killed accidentally, or by the savages. That was too terrible a contingency to take definite shape until there was no escaping it, and as all of us know better we won't refer to it again.

"Then he may be in the power of these wandering Indians that took such an interest in the antelope we left lying down among the rocks."

"Yis; yez are correct sure."

"How is it, Tim, that you agree with every supposition I make, no matter bow different they are from each other?"

"Wal, you saas me mind is a little foggy, be the towken that I hasn't had the pipe atween me lips since yesterday. When I'm deprived of that pleasure I finds meself unable to reason clearly."

"That is the first time I have heard that smoke makes a thing clearer."

"Ah! that's the trouble," added Tim, with a desponding shake of his head. "If this bad state of things continyees fur a few days longer, yees'll have to laad me around wid a string, or else taach Terror to do the same, as yez have saan a poor blind man and his dog do."

"You draw rather a woeful picture of yourself. But I suppose you can hold out for a few hours longer, and when it becomes dark, we can make a fire, light your pipe and get far away from it before any of the Indians could reach the spot."

"I think yez are right, but me intellect is working so faably this afternoon, that I faars to tax it too hard lest it topples over and gits upsit intirely. Yis, yez are right."

"Somehow or other I think Shasta is in this neighborhood——"

"So does meself," interrupted Tim, in his anxiety to give assent.

"If he is, he will not forget the kindness of Elwood."

"Never!"

"And whether we wait here or not he will attend to his safety all the same."

"That he will—you may depend on it."

"Then shall we wait here or hurry down the river for help?"

"Both, or aither as yez plaise."

"But, Tim, we must do one or the other."

"Let us slaap and draam over it."

This struck Howard as a good suggestion, as they both needed slumber sorely, and adjusting themselves in the canoe, with the Newfoundland as ever maintaining guard, they were quickly wrapped in deep slumber.

When they awoke it was broad day, and the whining of the dog told them at once that he had detected something suspicious.



CHAPTER XLVIII.

THE MEETING.

Tim O'Rooney and Howard Lawrence, awaking at the same moment, observed the alarming action of the dog. Raising their heads they looked carefully around but could detect nothing unusual. They were so securely drawn under the overhanging shrubbery and undergrowth that they were pretty certain no one else was aware of their presence; but the gaze of the dog being turned toward the river they judged that something must be nearing them from that direction.

Nor were they mistaken. A slight ripple was heard, and the next moment a canoe glided to view. In the center, controlling its movements, sat Shasta, the Pah Utah, and directly behind was Elwood Brandon.

Howard could scarcely believe his eyes. He stared again and again, while Tim rubbed his organs of vision, winked and blinked, as though vainly seeking to recover from the bewilderment of a sudden awaking from sleep. Finally he muttered to himself:

"Heaven save me! me intellect has toppled over intirely by raison of the want of me pipe."

"Elwood! Elwood!" called Howard, leaning forward and pulling the bushes apart.

But secure as they deemed their concealment, the eagle eyes of the Pah Utah had penetrated it, while they were yet several rods apart, and abruptly turning the prow of his canoe to one side, he brought it to rest directly opposite and within two feet of the other boat.

Elwood heard his name and saw his friends the next instant. Reaching forward, he grasped the hands of his cousin and the tears trickled down their smiling faces, while Tim continued rubbing his eyes.

"Am I draaming? as me uncle said when they towld him his grandfather had died and willed him two pounds and a half, or does I raaly see before me the youngster that the rid gintlemin had burned up? Let me faal the baal of yer hand."

The two closed hands, and the joy of both was unbounded. Shasta, at this point, showed a delicacy of feeling that did his heart credit. Joining the canoes together in the old-fashioned manner, he motioned Elwood to enter that of his friends, while he gave his exclusive attention to that of propelling the two.

Of course, now that the three were reunited, they overran each other with questions, exclamations and the interchange of experiences since they had separated. It did not require much time for the voluble tongue of Elwood to rattle on his brief stay with the Indians and the remarkable manner in which Shasta had secured his escape. Howard had but little to tell, and that was soon given, and they were left to speculate and conjecture on the future.

Tim's joy drowned his craving for his tobacco, and as he joined in the glowing conversation of the boys he made no reference to it.

"I think for the prisent," he remarked, "we won't take any hunts upon shore, especially if aich of us has to go alone. The red gintlemen, for some raisin at all, or more likely without any raisin, have taken a great anxiety to make our acquaintance. As fur meself, I prefers to live upon fish to having these same fellows faading upon me."

"Yes," replied Elwood, "I have learned something during the last few days. It is all well enough to be reckless and careless about danger when we are at home and there is no danger, but it is another thing when we are in these parts."

"As the Frenchman remarked, 'tiger hunting is very fine so long as we hunt the tiger, but when he takes it into his head to hunt us the mischief is to pay."

"If Shasta will have the onspakable kindness to tow us along in this shtyle for a few waaks, I think we will cast anchor at the wharf in San Francisco without any loss to passingers and freight."

"He has seen what ninnies we were," said Elwood, "and no doubt will accompany us some distance further when he certainly ought to let us try it alone again."

"Ah! but he's a smart young gintleman, as the acquaintances of Tim O'Rooney used to say when they made the slightest reference to him. Couldn't we persuade him to go on to San Francisco wid us? I think your father would be plaised to take him in as a partner in their business wid them."

"But he would hardly fancy the change," laughed Howard.

"He might now. When we should state the sarvices he has rindered to us, it's meself that doesn't think they'd require him to put in a very large pile of capital."

"I am sure if he should prove as keen and sharp in business matters as he does in the way of the woods, he would make one of the most successful merchants in the country."

"It's a pity that he doesn't understand the illegant use of the tongue, that we might confaar wid him. We could lay the proposition forninst him, and he could gives us the tarms to carry wid us."

However philanthropic this might be as regarded the Pah Utah, our friends deemed it hardly feasible to make the attempt to reach his views through the medium of signs.

As for Shasta, he did not once look backward to observe what his passengers were doing. He was propelling his boat through the water with his usual celerity, his head occasionally turning slightly as he glanced first at one shore and then the other, as though looking for some sign or landmark.

The day that succeeded the storm was beautiful and clear, everything in nature wearing a fresh and rosy look, as if refreshed by the needed shower. The current of the Salinas was as clear and crystal-like as though it had not received the muddy contents of a thousand brooks, rivulets and torrents gorged with the debris and leaves of its own valley.

"I am troubled by one sore anxiety."

"What can that be?"

"It is for Mr. Shasta. He seems quite forgetful this morning."

"In what respect?" asked Elwood, who did not see the drift of the Irishman's remarks.

"He hasn't had his breakfast, and he must be faaling a wee bit hungry, and be the same token, he must be the victim of great distress, that he hasn't indulged in the use of his pipe."

As Tim O'Rooney had made similar remarks on more than one previous occasion, it may be that the Pah Utah gathered an inkling of his meaning, for the words were scarce uttered when the canoes were headed toward shore, and a landing speedily made.

A piscatorial meal was provided after the manner already fully given, and when finished the soothing pipe of Tim O'Rooney was produced and enjoyed to its full extent.

But Shasta showed no disposition to wait, or to indulge in the solace of the weed. Motioning to his friends to enter the boat, he towed them to the center of the river, where he loosed the fastenings, and without a word or sign he headed his canoe up stream and sped away.

"He is going home," said Howard.

"He must imagine that we are owld enough to walk alone," remarked Tim as he took the paddle.

"But why not bid us good-by?" asked Elwood.

"As he has already done so," replied Howard, "he doubtless does not believe in adding a postscript."



CHAPTER XLIX.

HOMEWARD BOUND.

Now that our friends were left entirely alone, it became a question whether they should continue journeying by day or night.

"It seems to me that we are approaching a more civilized part of the country," said Howard. "I think there will be little risk in continuing our journey."

Tim industriously used his paddle, and shortly afterward, Elwood pointed to an open space some distance inland.

"Yonder are people, and they look as if they were gathered around a camp-fire at their dinner."

Tim jerked his head around, gave a puff of his pipe and said:

"Rid gintlemen ag'in, and I'll shy the canoe under the bank, and craap along till we gets beyonst thim."

"No, they are not Indians—they are white men," quickly added Elwood.

A careful scrutiny by all ended in a confirmation of Elwood's suspicion.

"That is good," said Howard, with a pleased expression, "it shows that we are getting beyond the wild country into a neighborhood where white men abound, and where we can feel some degree of safety."

"I suppose they are miners or hunters who are taking their midday meal in the open air," added Elwood, who was still gazing at them.

"Shall we heave too, pitch over the anchor, and s'lute them?" asked Tim.

"No; go ahead, we have no time to spare."

The cheering signs continued. An hour later they descried several white men seated in canoes and fishing near shore. They exchanged the courtesies of the day with them and passed on, growing more eager as they neared the goal.

It would have been no difficult feat of the imagination for one standing on shore to fancy that the cause was a pocket edition of a Hudson River steamboat, so powerfully did Tim O'Rooney puff at his pipe, the whiffs speeding away over his shoulder in exact time with the dipping of the paddle, as though the two united cause and effect. The fellow was in the best of spirits. Suddenly he paused and commenced sucking desperately at his pipe-stem, but all in vain; no smoke was emitted.

"What is the matter?" asked Elwood.

"Steam is out, and the paddle won't go."

"Let me relieve you."

The boy used it with good effect, while Tim shoved his blunt finger into the pipe-bowl, shut one eye and squinted into it, rattled it on his hand, puffed at it again, turned his pockets wrong side out, then put them to rights, and repeated the operation, just as we open the door a half-dozen times to make sure our friend isn't behind it, then gave one of his great sighs and looked toward Howard.

"I put the last switch of tobaccy I had in the world into that pipe, just arter throwing myself outside of that quince of fish."

"Quience?" laughed the boy, "you mean quintal."

"Yis, and what's to come of Tim O'Rooney, if he doesn't git some more right spaddily. His intellect toppled all the mornin', and can't stand another such strain, or it'll be nipped in the bud afore it has reached the topmost round at the bar of fame."

"Why, Tim, you are growing poetical," called Elwood over his shoulder, not a little amused at his bewildering metaphors.

"We shall doubtless come across some friends before long who will be glad to supply you."

"Elwood!" called Tim.

"What is it!" he asked, pausing in his paddling.

"If you saas a rid gintleman do yez jist rist till I takes aim and shoots him."

"Why so blood-thirsty?"

"Not blood-thirsty, but tobaccy thirsty. The haythen deal in the article, and if we saas one he must yield."

Elwood promised obedience, but they saw nothing of the coveted people whom they had been so anxious to avoid hitherto, but a half-hour later Howard said:

"Heigh-ho! Yonder is just the man you want to see!"

A single person dressed in the garb of a miner was standing on the shore leisurely surveying them as they came along. There could be no doubt that he was supplied with the noxious weed, for he was smoking a pipe with all the cool, deliberate enjoyment of a veteran at the business.

"Shall I head toward shore!" asked Elwood.

"Sartin, sartin. Oh that we had Mr. Shasta here that he might hurry to land wid the ould canoe!"

A few minutes sufficed to place the prow of the boat against the shore, and Tim O'Rooney sprung out. The miner, if such he was, stood with his hands in his pockets, looking sleepily at the stranger.

"How do yez do, William?" reaching out and shaking the hand which was rather reluctantly given him.

"Who you calling William?" demanded the miner gruffly.

"I beg yez pardon, but it was a slip of the tongue, Thomas."

"Who you calling Thomas?"

"Is your family well, my dear sir?"

"Whose family you talking about?"

"Did yez lave the wife and childer well?"

"Whose wife and childer you talking about?"

"Yez got over the cowld yez had the other day?"

"'Pears to me you know a blamed sight more about me than I do, stranger."

"My dear sir, I have the greatest affection for yez. The moment I seen yez a qua'ar faaling come over me, and I filt I must come ashore and shake you by the hand. I faals much better."

"You don't say?"

"That I does. Would yez have the kindness to give me a wee bit of tobaccy?"

The sleepy-looking stranger gazed drowsily at him a moment and then made answer:

"I'm just smoking the last bit I've got. I was going to ax you for some, being you had such a great affection for me."



CHAPTER L.

RESCUED.

The miner having made his reply, turned on his heel, still smoking his pipe, and coolly walked away, while Tim O'Rooney gazed after him in amazement. The boys were amused spectators of the scene, and Elwood now called out.

"Come, Tim, don't wait! We shall meet somebody else before long; and as you have just had a good smoking spell, you can certainly wait a while."

"Yes," added Howard, "no good can come of waiting; so jump in and let's be off."

The Irishman obeyed like a child which hardly understood what was required of it, and taking his seat said never a word.

"Let me alternate with you for a while," said Howard to his cousin, "you have worked quite a while with the paddle."

"I am not tired, but if you are eager to try your skill I won't object."

The boys changed places, and while Howard gave his exclusive attention to the management of the canoe, Elwood devoid himself to consoling Tim O'Rooney in the most serio-comic manner.

"Bear up a little longer, my good fellow. There's plenty of tobacco in the country, and there must be some that is waiting expressly for you."

"Where bees the same?"

"Of course we are to find that out; and I haven't the least doubt but the way will appear."

"Elwood," sighed Tim, "'spose by towken of the severe suffering that meself is undergoing I should lose me intellect——"

"I don't think there's any danger."

"And why not?" demanded the Irishman, in assumed fierceness.

"For the good reason that you haven't any to lose."

Tim bowed his head in graceful acknowledgment.

"But suppose I does run mad for all that?"

"I can easily dispose of you?"

"Afther what shtyle?"

"A madman is always a dangerous person in the community, and the moment I see any signs of your malady all I have to do is to shoot you through the head."

"Do yez obsarve any signs at presint?"

"You needn't ask the question, for the moment it breaks out the report of the gun and the crash of the bullet will give you a hint of the trouble."

Tim laughed.

"Yez are a bright child, as me mother used to obsarve whin I'd wash me face in her buttermilk and smiled through the windy at her. If ye continues to grow in your intellect yez may come to be a man that I won't be ashamed to addriss and take by the hand when I maats yez in the straats."

"I hope I shall," laughed Elwood, "the prize that you hold out is enough to make any boy work as he never did before. I hope you will not wish to withdraw your offer."

"Niver a faar—niver a faar, as Bridget Mughalligan said, when I asked her if she'd be kind enough to remimber me for a few days."

"Tim," added Elwood, after a moment's silence, "we are out of the woods."

"What do yez maan by that?"

"We can see signs of the presence of white men all around us, and we have nothing further to fear from Indians."

At this point Howard called the attention of his companion to a large canoe which was coming around a curve in the river. It contained nearly a dozen men, and was the largest boat of the kind which they had ever seen, and savored also of a civilized rather than a savage architect.

"They are white men," said Howard.

"Do yez obsarve any pipes sticking out of their mouths?"

"One or two are smoking."

"Then boord them if they won't surrender."

"They have headed toward us," remarked Elwood, "and must wish to say something."

A few moments later the two boats came side by side, and before any one else could speak Tim made his request known for tobacco. This was furnished him, and as he relit his pipe he announced that he had no objection to their proceeding with their business.

There were nine men in the larger boat, and all were armed with pistols, rifles and knives. In truth they resembled a war party more than anything else bound upon some desperate expedition.

The boys noticed as they came along, and while Tim O'Rooney was speaking, that several of the men looked very keenly at them, as though they entertained some strong suspicion. Finally one of the men asked:

"Are you youngsters named Lawrence and Brandon?"

"Yes, sir."

Here the questioner produced a paper from his pocket, and seemed to read his questions from that.

"And is that man Timothy O'Rooney?"

"Timothy O'Rooney, Esquire, from Tipperary, at your sarvice," called out the Irishman from the stern of the canoe, where he was elegantly reclining, and without removing the pipe from his mouth.

"Were you on the steamer —— —— that was burned off the coast of California?" pursued the interlocutor.

"Yes, sir."

"Then you are just the party we are looking for."

"Where do you come from?"

"We are from San Francisco, sent out by Messrs. Lawrence and Brandon in search of their children, whom they learned a few days ago from Mr. Yard, one of the survivors, were left on the coast, having wandered inland at the time the others were taken off by the Relief."

This was to the point.

"It is fortunate for all parties that we met you," added the man with a smile, "for we receive a very liberal reward to bring you back, no matter whether we met you within a dozen miles of San Francisco, or were obliged to spend the summer hunting for you among the mountains, only to succeed after giving the largest kind of a ransom."

"Prosaad," said Tim O'Rooney, with a magnificent wave of his hand, without rising from his reclining position. "We're glad to maat yez, as me uncle obsarved, whin Micky O'Shaunhanaley's pig walked into his shanty and stood still till he was salted down and stowed away in the barrel, by raisin of which Micky niver found his pig agin."

The next day the party reached the outlet of the Salinas River, Monterey Bay, where they succeeded in securing transit to San Francisco, and the two boys were once more clasped in the loving arms of their anxious parents.

Howard and Elwood remained in San Francisco until autumn, when they came East again and entered college, and having passed through with honor they returned to the Golden City, and are now partners in a flourishing business. Tim O'Rooney is in their service, and they both hold him in great regard. He is as good-natured as when "Adrift in the Wilds" with the boys, and his greatest grief is that he has never been able to meet Mr. Shasta, the most "illigent savage gintleman that iver paddled his own canoe."

THE END.



* * * * *



THE BOYS' HOME SERIES.

Uniform with this Volume.

This series affords wholesome reading for boys and girls, and all the volumes are extremely interesting.—Cincinnati Commercial Gazette.

Joe's Luck; or, A Boy's Adventures in California. By Horatio Alger, Jr.

Julian Mortimer or, A Brave Boy's Struggles for Home and Fortune. By Harry Castlemon.

Adrift In The Wilds; or, The Adventures of Two Shipwrecked Boys. By Edward S. Ellis.

Frank Fowler, The Cash Boy. By Horatio Alger, Jr.

Guy Harris, The Runaway. By Harry Castlemon.

Ben Burton, The Slate-Picker. By Harry Prentice.

Tom Temple's Career. By Horatio Alger, Jr.

Tom, The Ready; or, Up from the Lowest. By Randolph Hill.

The Castaways; Or, On The Florida Reefs. By James Otis.

Captain Kidd's Gold, The True Story of an Adventurous Sailor Boy. By James Franklin Fitts.

Tom Thatcher's Fortune. By Horatio Alger, Jr.

Lost In The Canon. The Story of Sam Willett's Adventures on the Great Colorado of the West. By Alfred R. Calhoun.

A Young Hero; or, Fighting to Win. By Edward S. Ellis.

The Errand Boy; or, How Phil Brent Won Success. By Horatio Alger, Jr.

The Island Treasure; or, Harry Darrel's Fortunes. By Frank H. Converse.

A Runaway Brig; or, An Accidental Cruise. By James Otis.

A Jaunt Through Java. The Story of a Journey to the Sacred Mountain by Two American Boys. By Edward S. Ellis.

The King of Apeland. The Wonderful Adventures of a Young Animal-Trainer. By Harry Prentice.

Tom, The Boot-Black; or, The Road to Success. By Horatio Alger, Jr.

Roy Gilbert's Search. A Tale of the Great Lakes. By William Pendleton Chipman.

The above stories are printed on extra paper, and bound in Handsome Cloth Binding, in all respects uniform with this volume, at $1.00 per copy.

For sale by all Booksellers, or will be sent post-paid on receipt of the price by the publisher.

A. L. BURT, 56 Beekman St., New York.

THE END