"Boat! boat!" he shouted, hoarsely. "Is there no boat?"

His words brought out the settler's wife, and a couple of men from one of the shanties.

"No boat here," said one of the men. "Anything the matter?"

Gunson tried to speak, but no words came, and in a despairing way he pointed down the river in the direction poor Esau had been swept.

The man looked as he pointed, but nothing was visible, and just then the woman cried out—

"Why, where's your mate?"

Neither could I say more than one word—"Bathing," and I too pointed down the river.

"Bathing, and swep' away," said one of the men. "Ah, she runs stronger nor a man can swim. None on us here don't bathe."

"No," said the other man quietly; and they stood looking at us heavily.

"But is there no boat to be had?" cried Gunson, hoarsely. "The Indians. A canoe!"

"Went down the river last night, after bringing the fish," said the woman wildly, and then—"Oh, the poor boy—the poor boy!" and she covered her face with her apron and began to sob.

"And we stand here like this," groaned Gunson, "shut in here by these interminable trees. Is there no way through—no path?"

"No," said the man who had spoken first, "no path. Only the river. We came by the water and landed here."

"Gordon," said my companion bitterly, "I'd have plunged in and tried to save him, but I knew it was impossible. Poor lad! poor lad! I'd have given five years of my life to have saved him."

"But will he not swim ashore somewhere lower down?" I cried, unwilling to give up all hope. "Where the stream isn't so strong. Let's try and find a way through the trees."

"Yes; let's try a way along by the river if we can," he said, wearily. "Poor lad! I meant differently to this."

He led the way back to the end of the clearing, and then hesitated.

"If we could contrive something in the shape of a raft, we might float down the river. Hark! What's that?"

For there was a faint hail from somewhere down the river—in the part hidden from us by the trees. "Ahoy!" came quite distinctly this time. "He has swum to one of the overhanging branches, and is holding on," I cried, excitedly. "Can't we make a raft so as to get to him?"

Gunson turned, and was in the act of running toward our stopping-place, with some idea, as he afterwards told me, of tearing down two or three doors, when more plainly still came the hail. "Ahoy! Gordon. Ahoy!"

"Why, he is swimming back," I cried. "Ah!" shouted Gunson, running back. "The Indians! It was about their time."

Almost as he spoke, the end of a canoe propelled by four Indians came into sight slowly from behind the trees, and as it drew a little further into view, I could see Esau's head just above the side right back in the stern, and this was followed by one bare arm, which was waved in the air, and he shouted—"Gordon. Ahoy! Got my clothes?" Gunson gave his foot an angry stamp, and walked back to the settler's house.



CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

WE START UP THE RIVER.

"Esau!" I cried, half hysterically, as the canoe was paddled up to the wharf; "you frightened us horribly."

"You?" he said, coolly, "frightened you? Why, you should have been me."

I said nothing then, but made signs to the Indians, who, partly from my motions, and partly from their understanding a few words of English, paddled the boat up to where we had undressed; and as Esau leaped ashore, and hurried on his clothes, he went on talking readily enough, though I could hardly say a word.

"Yes, I did begin to get a bit scared when I found I couldn't do anything to paddle ashore," said Esau quietly. "It does run fast. And as soon as I was in the full stream, away I went. Didn't have no trouble about swimming, only a stroke now and then to keep one's head right; river did all the rest. I could have gone on for an hour, I dare say, if I could have kept from being frightened, but—don't tell old Gunson—I was scared, and no mistake."

"Till you saw the Indians with the canoe," I said huskily.

"What?" cried Esau, staring at me in astonishment. "Why that made me ever so much more frightened. How did I know but what they wanted to pull all the hair off my head? Why, I tried to swim away from them, and dived down when they were getting close, so as to let them paddle right by. I stopped under too as long as I could, and when I came up, if they hadn't managed their boat just so as one of 'em could duck his hand down and catch hold of my curly hair."

"Esau!"

"I shouted and struggled, but he held tight, and another came to help him, and they dragged me over the side into the boat, where I durstn't kick for fear of poking my feet through the bottom, for it's only skin stretched over a frame, just as you might make a boat as one would an umbrella, only I don't think they could shut it up."

"But they didn't attempt to hurt you."

"No; they were civil enough their way, and kept on jabbering at me, and saying something about Si wash, si wash. I'd had si wash enough, but they never offered to lend me a towel, and I had to get dry in the sun."

"Esau," I said, as he was finishing dressing, "you ought to be thankful that you have had such an escape."

"Ought I? Well, I suppose I ought, lad; and I am thankful, though I take it so easy, for my poor mother would have broke her heart if I'd been drowned. She thinks a deal of me."

"Of course," I said.

"I say, what did old Gunson say?"

"Don't ask me; don't talk about it," I said, for I felt half choking, I was so overset by the whole scene.

"Why, Mayne Gordon," said Esau softly, as he laid his hand on my shoulder, "don't go on like that. I ain't nothing to you, and—"

"Esau," I cried angrily, "will you hold your tongue? Hush! don't say another word. Here's Mr Gunson."

"Yes," said Esau, in rather an ill-used tone, "it always is 'Here's Mr Gunson!'"

"Breakfast's waiting, my lads," he said. "Make haste; I don't want to keep the Indians long."

"Keep the Indians?" I said. "Ah, you mean we ought to pay them something for saving him."

"Yes, for one thing; but that is not all. They will easily be satisfied."

"I sha'n't give them anything," said Esau sourly. "One of 'em tried to pull the hair off my head."

"Nonsense! It must have been to get you into the boat. Here we are."

He signed to us to go into our room in the shanty, and I felt puzzled at his quiet calm way of speaking now, just as if there had been nothing the matter that morning. But it was not so with Esau. The shock and its accompanying fright had had a peculiar effect upon his temper.

As we entered the room there was the bright fire with the boiling water; and the landlady had been busy for us, and broiled some bacon, the smell of which was very welcome at that time in the morning; but as Esau was about to take his place he looked sharply round.

"Where's my box?" he said. And as he spoke I saw that mine and the others were gone.

"In the canoe," said Gunson, quietly.

"What's it in the canoe for?" cried Esau. "Those Indian chaps will run away with it."

"If they do," said Gunson, who was busy making the tea, "they'll take your companion's and mine too."

"What's the good o' that to me?" cried Esau angrily. "That won't bring mine back. Here, I want my box."

"Sit down, and don't be stupid, my lad. You've given us quite enough trouble this morning."

"But I want my box," cried Esau. "There's lots o' things in that I wouldn't lose on no account."

He moved toward the door, but Gunson set down the kettle and stepped before him.

"Go and sit down," he said sternly.

"But I want—"

"Sit down!" roared Gunson. "Your companion here does not make an idiot of himself because his box is in the canoe. Do you think I want to run away with it?"

"No; but those Indians—"

"Are more honest than you are, my lad, or as honest."

"But who told them to take the boxes?"

"I did. For if you go and nearly drown yourself there is no opportunity for consulting you about matters. You want to go up the river, do you not?"

"Well, I don't know," cried Esau, whose anger was now comical.

"Then we know for you. As it happens, my first halting-place is at a settlement twelve miles up the river. I wanted my chests taken up there, and I ventured to think it would be doing you lads a good turn to take you and your boxes as well. So I engaged these Indians with their canoe. They will paddle us up there and land us."

"Oh," said Esau discontentedly. And I burst out laughing.

"I'm sorry you do not like it, Mr Dean; but if you wish it, I will apologise for the liberties my Indians have taken in saving your life as they came, as well as in taking your chest."

"Well, I—that is—if I'd—"

"Will you hold your mug this way for some tea, Mr Dean?" said Gunson, with mock politeness.

"Oh!" exclaimed Esau.

"There, help yourself to sugar and milk. Gordon, my lad, help the bacon, and give our much-injured friend the best piece."

"Look here," cried Esau fiercely, "you may hit me, or you may kick me, but I can't stand being made fun of. Say another word like that, and I won't eat a bit."

"I have said my say," cried Gunson, with a look at me. And after gulping down his tin mug of tea, Esau seemed to get better, and the meal was hastily finished in peace.

"Now, Gordon," said Gunson, "our landlady has been very civil to us, what shall we give her beside the pay for what we have had?"

"If I did what I liked, I should give her a little paper of tea."

"Well done, Solomon of wisdom," said Gunson, taking something from his pocket; "here it is, done up all ready. Now then, the sooner we start the better."

Our arrangements with the settler's wife were soon concluded, and it was still early morning when we took our places in the big skin canoe with all our personal belongings under our eyes now; and the Indians having been well fed, pushed off rather sluggishly. But they kept time with their paddles, and soon set up a low, sad, crooning kind of chorus as they carefully avoided the powerful stream by keeping well inshore, where I gazed up in wonder at the magnificent trees which appeared in masses and clumps at every turn.

It was a wonderful experience that first ride on the fierce river, whose snow-charged waters gave quite a sting to the fingers whenever they were immersed. And there was always something fresh to see. Now it was a vast shoal of salmon gliding up over the shallows, or collecting about the edges of one of the many falls we passed, where some stream or another came down from the high grounds to swell the already full bed of the river. Then some bird flew up within tempting distance for one who handled a gun, and then there would be a little bit of excitement as we neared some fierce part of the river where the bed was dotted with rocks, a touch upon any of which must mean a hole through the bottom of our canoe, and her freight sent whirling helplessly down the stream.

It was at one of these rapids that Esau, who had been very quiet and rather ashamed of himself, suddenly half rose in his place, exclaiming—

"Don't let them go there; it isn't safe."

"They know best how to manage the canoe," said Gunson quietly.

"But you won't let them go up that bit of water? It's like a mill-race."

"Yes; only fiercer," said Gunson coolly. "Feel startled, Gordon?"

"I do feel a bit nervous," I said.

"And not ashamed to say so," he replied, laughing. "Well, you are a strange lad. Of course you are not frightened, Dean?"

"Why it's enough to scare any one," cried Esau. "We shall all have to swim for it directly, and nice chance we shall have. Get stunned with stones before we know where we are. Here, look! what are they going to do?"

"Sit still, and you'll see," said Gunson; and he joined me in looking eagerly at the men, who ran the boat as far as they could go toward the shallow rapids by energetic use of their paddles, and then, at a grunt from the one who seemed to take the lead, they dropped their paddles in the canoe, and, as if by one movement, swung themselves over into the rapids, and began to wade and drag the vessel against the surging stream.

"Look here," said Gunson, with his lips close to my ear, for the noise of the rushing water was deafening, "if we do go over, make for that big piece of rock below there, and try to climb up."

"Yes," I said rather breathlessly; "but tell Esau too."

"Oh no; there is no need," he said sarcastically. "Your companion is too clever to want help."

Meanwhile we were being dragged slowly up and up against the fierce current, and in and out among rocks, any one of which would have overset the canoe; and as I looked forward and to right and left, where the sides of the river were formed by precipices which ran up so high that the trees growing here and there on the ledges looked quite small, I felt a kind of shrinking sensation at my own insignificance, and turned at last to see what effect all this had upon Esau.

He was seated holding on to the bottom of the canoe with all his might, and staring at the threatening rocks with eyes and mouth wide open.

"Afraid?" I shouted in his ear.

"Not a bit," he replied; "but be ready for a swim if some of those rocks up above don't tumble down and sink us."

And all the time the Indians dragged hard at the canoe, and with so much success that they proceeded over some three hundred yards of rapid, and then stopped where the water looked deep and glassy, and where it was evident that they could wade no further.

Here, as they held the canoe fast to keep it from being swept back down the rapids, one of the foremost swung himself in, took his paddle, and began to use it with all his might. Then another sprang in on the other side, and paddled hard to keep the canoe stationary, two still holding tightly. Then the third leaped in, and the one still holding uttered a hoarse cry, which made the others ply their paddles with all their might, for it seemed as if the stream would be too strong for them. Finally the fourth gave another cry, and his muscles stood out in the sunshine on his forehead and neck, as he gave the boat a tremendous thrust, swung himself in, and began to paddle rapidly.

The thrust he gave the boat sent it on a couple of yards, and then it became stationary, with the water, which looked white and glassy, now rushing by us, and threatening to drive the canoe on to the rocks just behind, or else to capsize us, and sweep the party headlong down the long water slope up which we had been so toilsomely drawn. And I believe we should have been mastered, for what with three passengers and the chests, the canoe was heavily laden; but Gunson suddenly pressed himself close to the last Indian, reached out one strong arm, and grasped his paddle, swaying with him, and bringing the full force of his powerful muscles to bear.

The hint was sufficient. I gave Esau a look, and crawled right forward to the first paddler, and did precisely the same, and Esau acted likewise, so that there was the addition of our arms on the port side of the boat to balance Gunson's on the starboard.

For the moment my Indian, the first, seemed ready to start up, leap overboard, and swim for his life, evidently thinking I was attacking him; but he saw what it meant directly, and as soon as we boys were in regular swing with them, the chief man gave a shout, and the paddles were plied with such effect that the canoe began to move from where it had been stationary, as if one end were fixed on a rock, which allowed the hows to sway a little. Then we gained a foot or two, the feet became yards, and the Indians set up a triumphant chorus, as we glided on and on, more into smoother water, and at last right in, under the lowering precipice on our left, where we got along more rapidly, till the vessel was steered in behind a huge projecting mass of rock, where one paddle was sufficient to hold her in the eddy that was caused by the stone, and here all paused to rest.

"Well done, Bri'ish muscles!" said Esau, looking round, and smiling as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead. "I say, I thought it was all over once."

"Yes," said Gunson, "they had all they could do to hold their own, and of course they would soon have given way."

"Is there much more like this?" I asked.

"You know the river as well as I do, my lad," said Gunson. "As far as I can make out, it is nearly all like this, and runs through canons and wild places, where at times the sides are so high that it is quite gloomy below."

"Well, I like it," said Esau. "There's something in it. I've been on the river at home in the steamers, but there's nothing to see."

"You'll see enough here," said Gunson, dryly. "What do you think of your journey up the river now? Didn't I hear one of you speak about walking on the bank?"

I looked to right and left, and felt my forehead pucker up as I saw the difficulties we should have to contend with.

"But will the banks be always like this?" I said.

"Of course not. I should say that we shall find everything, from piled-up masses of rock to pleasant patches of meadow, and no two miles alike."

"But no steamers could ever come up here," said Esau.

"Oh yes, out there in the broad channel in the middle, but they will need very powerful engines and careful pilots. Ah, they are getting ready for a fresh start."

"But it will take us a long time to get up to where we are to stop for to-night," I said.

"Twelve miles at the outside," replied Gunson. "Yes, I am beginning to be in doubt as to whether we shall get there to-night."

The leader of the Indians shouted, they plunged in their paddles, and the next minute we were again struggling with a rapid bit of the river between two rocks; but they soon got into smooth water again, and, evidently quite at home in the intricacies of the navigation, they took advantage of every sheltering clump of rocks, and cut across swift rapids to get into eddies here, there, and everywhere. Now we were right in the middle of the stream, now crossing under the left bank, now making for the right, but always advancing slowly, with the sides of the river growing grander every hour, and Gunson smiling at our ecstasies, as we kept getting glimpses of ravines down which tumbled silvery streams, whose spray moistened the gigantic pines which shot up like spires.

"Wouldn't have ketched me sitting on the stool in old Dempster's office all that mizzable time," cried Esau, "if I'd known there were places like this to come and live at."

"It is a grand valley," said Gunson thoughtfully, and looking at me as he spoke; "but as it is, what is it? Only something beautiful to be admired. You couldn't live on waterfalls and pine-trees here. Suppose I landed you two lads in that lovely gorge, where the water comes down like a veil of silver, and—yes, look, there's a rainbow floating in that mist just above the big fall. Look at the ferns, and perfect shape of that great fir-tree, with its branches drooping right to the ground. You could sleep under its spreading boughs, and find a soft bed of pine-needles; but I don't think it would be possible to climb up the sides of the gorge, and in a short time you would starve."

"Oh would we?" cried Esau. "We'd soon build a hut, and we could catch the salmon."

"Yes, you might catch some salmon in the season; but there is nothing else you could eat. It is very beautiful too, and those pine-trees that stand there are as they stand worth nothing, but if you had them cut into square timbers, and lying in one of the London docks, they would be worth from ten to forty pounds each."

"But it is glorious to see all this," I said eagerly.

"Yes; glorious. In all my travels I have seen nothing more beautiful," said Gunson; and he added laughing, "I never went up a river that was so rugged and so swift."

It was just in such a nook as that which we had admired so much that the Indians ran the boat ashore about midday, and after making her fast in a glassy little pool, they signed to us to get out, after which they all sat down among the ferns, and under the shelter of the spreading boughs of a pine, and brought out some food. We imitated their example, and made a hearty meal, washing it down with a tin of water from a little fountain which gushed from a moss-covered rock.

By this time the Indians were lying down apparently asleep, and it set me thinking about what our position would be if we followed their example and they decamped with our boxes and stores. Suppose there was no way out of this neck, for the sides looked as if it would be impossible to climb them, and it was evidently a rare thing for any boat to go up or down.

However, these were only fancies, for after about an hour's rest the Indians suddenly jumped up and pointed to the boat. We got in, and the struggle with the river began again, to be kept up till the sun had descended behind the mountains, and it was beginning to look gloomy where the river ran. Places that would have been glorious to the eye in the bright sunshine now seemed weird and terrible, impressing even our hard, stern friend, so that he suddenly said—

"We had better land at the first suitable place, and make camp for the night. We can easily get a good fire."

I was glad to hear him say this, for with the advancing evening the waters looked cold, and the echoing roar of torrent and fall had an awful sound that began to affect my spirits, and Esau's as well, for he suddenly said to me—

"I say, this part ain't half so beautiful as some of the others."

Gunson set himself the task of explaining to the Indians that we wanted to land, a want that they grasped directly; the leader nodding and pointing forward beyond a sudden bend of the river, where it made a sweep to our right round a towering buttress of rock, which projected so far that it seemed to block up the channel, and turn the place into a lake. Then bending once more to their paddles, they set up their monotonous chant, and in about an hour we were round the great rocky buttress, and making for a meadow-like patch surrounded by magnificent trees, and upon which dotted here and there were rough shanties.

"Why this is the settlement!" cried Gunson. "They have done as they promised after all. Now, my lads," he said, "what do you say?—shall we try and get shelter at one of those places, or camp out for the first time, and you can try what it's like?"

"Camp out," I said eagerly, for there was an attraction about the idea. "What do you say, Esau?"

"Same as you do, sir, same as you."

"Then we will camp out," said Gunson; and directing the Indians to a nook away from the tents, they landed us there by a spring of cold water, and then began to take out the chests.

"No, no. To-morrow," said Gunson. "Now then; first thing is a fire when we have chosen our tent."

Just then Esau cried sharply—"I say, lookye there!" and burst into a fit of laughter.



CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

ESAU HAS A DREAM.

I laughed too as I saw the little yellow-faced figure of our Chinese companion of the boat, as he came up with his small bundle swinging from one finger.

"Why how did you get up here?" I said.

"Indian—chinook come along, walkee, walkee," he said; and he pointed toward the west. "Wantee fire—make blead?" he said laconically; and then without losing a moment, he selected a sheltered spot, collected a quantity of pine-needles and fir-cones, produced a box of matches from somewhere,—I think it was from up his sleeve,—started the fire, nursed it carefully, and as soon as it began to burn freely, ran here and there to collect dry wood, and after building this up round, dragged up bigger pieces, and then added these, making a famous fire in a very short time.

Gunson laughed at the Chinaman's busy, officious way, and with us to help him, brought our stores ashore, while the Indians prepared their own camping-place some little distance off.

"We may as well make ourselves comfortable for the night," he said. "We shall work all the better to-morrow."

"Where floul—make blead?" said the Chinaman, looking up suddenly.

"Don't want any. Got plenty of bread."

"Don'tee want any. Plenty blead?" said the Chinaman. "Want pot makum boil tea; want bacon—good fi' cook bacon."

I was just unpacking the latter, which had been tucked in the kettle safe receptacle, and our new acquaintance's fingers were soon busy. He seized the kettle, went to the spring, rinsed it out, and brought it full to the fire. Then, before I could interfere, he had seized upon the bacon, taken out a long ugly knife, whetted it upon his boot, and began to cut off thin slices, which he laid upon a thin square of iron, whose purpose I had not divined when Gunson unpacked it, bore them to the fire, and stood there ready for a clear place where one side was all aglow with embers.

This done, the Chinaman placed one or two branches in more favourable positions for burning, and turned to Gunson again.

"Kettle nealy leady. Want tea?"

Gunson handed the tin to him, and the little yellow face lightened up as the cover was taken off.

"Melican tea? No. Good tea. Ah!"

There was a long, eager sniff taken, and then a look was given round.

"One, two, thlee," said the little fellow, raising finger after finger as he counted. "One, two, thlee," and he gave the tea a shake in the canister.

"Not enough," said Gunson; "we like a good cup."

"Hey? like good cup? Yes, plenty tea fo' good cup," and he took off the lid of the tin, and went and squatted down by the kettle, set the tea aside, ready for the boiling of the water, and so brought the bacon over the glowing embers slowly and carefully, using the point of his knife in place of a fork. That tea proved to be excellent, and the bacon so delicious that we felt kindly disposed toward the Chinaman as we ate it; and the more so that as soon as he saw us well started, in place of hanging about to be asked to join, he whetted his knife again, trotted off, and began to collect pine-needles, and cut down boughs of fir and spruce to pack together under the biggest tree for our bed.

"Here, what are you doing?" said Gunson. "Hey?" cried the little fellow, trotting up. "Doing! Want mo' bacon—make blead. Blead gone high."

"No, no. Sit down and have some tea."

"By and by!" said the little fellow. "Cut much bed. Velly black dleckly; no see."

He went off, and we heard his knife hacking away again, and the rustling of the boughs, as he laid them neatly together in the big, pine natural tent that was to be our home that night.

"Well," said Gunson, "what do you think of real camping out?"

"Lovely," said Esau. "Oh! I say!"

"What's the matter?" I said. "Gnat sort of thing bit me on the side of the neck. Why, if there ain't another."

He gave his face a sharp smack, and I was engaged too, and directly after Gunson was smacking his hands and legs, for a cloud of mosquitoes had found us out, and were increasing in number every moment.

"This is intolerable," cried Gunson. "Old friends. Haven't been bitten for years. We shall have to shift our quarters."

Just then the Chinaman came up, and took in the situation at a glance.

"Skittum," he said, sharply. "I mudjums."

Running to the fire, he took hold of the end of a branch, drew it out, gave it a wave to put out the flame, and then held it smoking low down by us on the side where the wind blew, with the result that a thick cloud of aromatic vapour was wafted by us, stinging our eyes a little, but making the vicious little insects turn their attention to the Indians, who started a burning branch as well, after which we could hear our enemies making their sharp, threatening hum all about us, but they rarely ventured to attack us through the smoke.

"I say," cried Esau, "I hope there ain't many of these things about. My! how the bites itch."

As he spoke he moved out from under the protecting smoke, but a sharp trumpeting hum sent him back directly with his head in the cloud.

"Wants a good sharp wind to blow 'em away," he muttered, as he began to rub at the bites viciously, while Gunson turned to the Chinaman and nodded toward the remains of our food.

"Have some tea," he said, "and something to eat?"

The little fellow nodded and smiled.

"All a done?" he said. "Tea velly good?" and filling himself a tin mug from the supply in the kettle, he sat sipping it with his eyes closed. Then helping himself moderately to the remains of the bread and bacon, he rinsed out the kettle and mugs, and set all aside under a big fern.

"All leady fo' bleakfass," he said, nodding. "Keep a fi'. Quong mind. Leady fo' bleakfass, mollow. You want?"

He looked at Gunson, who shook his head.

"You want?" he said again, looking at Esau.

"No, I don't want you," replied Esau; and the same question was addressed to me, of course with the same result.

"Velly ti'e. Go sleep," said the little fellow; and, selecting a tree about half way between us and the Indians' camp, I saw him, in the fast-fading light, put his bundle down for a pillow, and curl up directly.

"Good example," said Gunson. "Let's follow it, and be off in good time."

We took his advice; but this time I lay awake for long enough, listening to the murmur of the wind in the pines, and the low, deep bass roar of the river. It had rapidly grown dark, and the fire flickered and flashed, and sent up curls of golden smoke; while on one side there was a bough of a pine-tree with every needle standing out clear and bright against the intense blackness beyond. And as I lay there listening to the heavy breathing of my two companions, I began to think how easy it would be for the little Chinaman to crawl silently up and rob us of our money and valuables; then that there was nothing to prevent the Indians from making their way round among the trees and killing us all. I had read of Indian massacres, and a curious, hot sensation of dread came over me as I looked nervously round, half expecting that my fancies might not be without cause, and that my wakefulness was due to a sense of coming danger.

But the various objects dimly seen by the firelight by degrees took their proper form; and I saw that one which I had believed to be an Indian's head was only a tuft of some low growth; that it was a fern and not a crouching enemy just beyond the fire; and the group to my left, a curious shadowy group, consisted of young pines which the falling in and following blaze of the fire made quite plain.

I told myself that it was foolish to feel so nervous, and that I was as safe out there in the forest as in some room at home; but myself would not believe it, and kept on conjuring up dangers surrounding us till I felt irritable with my two companions for sleeping so peaceably.

The time went on, and I began wondering how Mr John Dempster and those with him were getting on; how long it would be before we should meet—if we ever did meet; and then the end of my journey here became a great trouble to me, as the question rose in a very portentous fashion—what would Uncle Dan, as they familiarly called him, say when I presented myself and said I had come?

Those hours—perhaps they only seemed to be hours—passed on very wearily, and I turned and turned again, troubled as I was by a painful, burning itching where I had been bitten, and never once thinking of attributing my wakefulness to the real cause—the mosquitoes.

At last, just when I was most miserable, nervous, and low-spirited, I suddenly saw a bright, flashing eye appear over the edge of the black ridge on the other side of the river, and begin peering at me through the pine boughs, so full of peace and beauty that I lay gazing at it, feeling more and more calm as I recalled the times when I had seen that same planet shining so brightly in the dear old home; till at last my leaden eyelids closed, and I slept profoundly, but only to start into wakefulness as some one trampled upon me heavily; and as I leaped up, there close to me came the sounds of heavy blows, of the pine twigs being broken, and loud gaspings and pantings, mingled with heavy trampling, a low hoarse cry, and a heavy fall.

My heart stood still, and I was paralysed for a few moments as I stood there in the dark; then the instinct of self-preservation rose strong in me, and I took out and drew the great knife I had bought, and stood there ready to sell my life as dearly as I could, but unwilling to move lest I should indicate to the Indians where they might make their next attack.

For I felt convinced that my imaginations had been realised; that the Indians had stolen upon us, and murdered my two companions in their sleep, while I alone was left helpless in that wild place, and not daring to call for help.

I suppose all this could not have taken a minute, long as in my agony it seemed to me before a voice close by me said—

"Dean—Gordon! Wake up, lads. A light—a light!"

A thrill of joy shot through me as I recognised Gunson's voice, although it was changed by excitement, and panting, just as it sounded to me after his encounter with the big settler; while before I could speak there came an answer to his appeal in the shrill tones of the Chinaman.

"Wantee lightee? Yes."

Then there was a blaze, and directly after I saw the little fellow bearing a great pine branch which he had dragged out of the fire.

"What is it?" I said, eagerly.

"I don't know yet, boy. One of the Indians, I think. He struck me with a club, but fortunately it was only on the shoulder, and when I leaped up and struck out he went down. I've got him here. Don't come till we can see. He may sting."

The light flashed in under the pine boughs then, and I could see Gunson's back as he knelt down, evidently holding his enemy there by the throat.

"Why, hang it!" he cried, drawing back sharply; "it's Dean."

"Dean!" I cried. "There must be some one else."

"No; only him. He was striking about with—yes, here it is," he continued, picking up a stout piece of pine, one of the branches that had been in the fire till the small twigs were burned off, leaving it as a strong cudgel about two feet long. "He struck me with this, and he was dashing it about among the branches."

"He trampled on me too. I thought it was the Indians," I said.

"Then it's a false alarm, and I'm afraid I've hurt the poor lad a good deal."

But just then Esau sat up, and began rubbing the side of his head.

"Where's my stick?" he said. "Oh, you've got it. Have you driven 'em away?"

"Driven whom away?" I said.

"Injuns. I thought they would. They came at us, and I'd got that stick ready."

"Injun allee seepee," said the Chinaman, waving the pine branch to make it blaze.

"No; they came and attacked us, and I fought 'em till one of 'em knocked me down and held me on the ground."

"Did you see them come?" said Gunson.

"Couldn't see 'em because it was so dark; but I sprang up at them, and did the best I could."

"Quong fuss wake. No Injun came all 'long. Quong been make fire all light fo' bleakfass."

"I tell you they came," cried Esau, angrily. "Look here at my cheek. It's cut, and bleeds. That was one of their knives."

"That was my knuckles, my lad," said Gunson, "after you had hit me with this cudgel."

"What?" cried Esau.

"Why, Esau, you were dreaming of Indians, and got up. You stamped on me."

"Oh, come, if you won't believe it's of no use for me to talk," cried Esau, angrily.

"Not a bit, so lie down again and go to sleep."

"Yes; allee go seep," said the little Chinaman. "No Injun. Allee seep."

"Take away that branch, or you'll set this tree on fire," said Gunson. "Then it's a false alarm. Too much supper, I suppose."

"I wasn't asleep," said Esau, surlily.

"Don't be stubborn," I cried, angrily. "Lie down."

"Here, I ain't your dog, Mr Gordon," said Esau, sourly. "I did all I could to fight for you both."

"Yes, and jumped on your companion, and nearly broke my collar-bone."

"Well, you've cut my cheek. Why, I shall have a black eye to-morrow."

"I think you and I may as well shake hands about that," said Gunson. "There, good-night."

As he lay down once more, and the fire flashed up consequent upon the little Chinaman throwing back the branch, Esau turned to me.

"I say," he whispered, "was I really dreaming?"

"No doubt about it."

"And walked in my sleep?"

"Yes, and fought in your sleep."

"But it was so real. I could see their grinning teeth and rolling eyes, and every one had got a knife in one hand and a chopper in the other as they sprang at me."

"That proves it, Esau," I said. "How could you see their knives, and eyes, and teeth here in this darkness! Why, you can't see my face, not even your own hands, and yet the fire's brighter than it was before."

"Well, that is rum," cried Esau, as if to himself. "I saw 'em all as plain as could be, and they shouted their war-cry."

"War!—gammon!" said Gunson, crossly. "Lie down, you two fellows, and go to sleep. He was dreaming, Gordon. Don't listen to his cock-and-bull nonsense."

"All right," I said. "Good-night."

"Good-night."

"Good-night, Esau."

"Good-night. But dreaming! Well, of all! And they were as plain as could be, and had got feathers in their heads."

"Yes, blue ones," I said, grumpily. "And look here, Esau, if you're going to dance a war-dance on my chest again, please to take off your boots."

Esau chuckled, and the last thing I heard as I dropped asleep again was Esau muttering to himself—

"Asleep!—dreaming! Well, of all!"



CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

I SEE FOOTPRINTS.

Esau was quite right; he had a terribly discoloured eye next morning, and it was the first thing I saw as we both sat up together in the soft light under the great pine, though I was half asleep still. But I had started up on hearing a shrill voice close to me say—

"Bleakfass all ready."

"Come and bathe your face, Esau," I said; and I led the way down to the water's edge to have a good wash, Gunson and Esau following my example, while when we got back to the fire it was to find that Quong had been making himself quite at home with our stores. For not only had he cut up and cooked some bacon, and made the tea, but he had found the flour-bag; and there, upon a piece of sheet-iron, was a large bread-cake freshly baked in the embers.

Gunson laughed as he saw these preparations, but he said no more till we had partaken of a hearty meal. Then the four Indians came up to be paid, readily taking the dollars promised for the trip, and going back directly to the boat to land the boxes; but Gunson followed them, and they agreed to take them to the front of the biggest shanty about half a mile higher up, waiting till we were ready.

Quong was busy now making his breakfast, and Gunson turned to him.

"Now, my Celestial friend," he said; "we're going to say good-bye to you. Where are you bound for?"

"Up libber, washee gole."

Gunson started.

"What?" he cried.

"Up libber, washee gole."

"Who told you that there was gold there?"

"Melican man come down, show bit gold to Melican man. Big man you chuckee chuckee down in boat."

Gunson looked disturbed, but he made no remark then, and at last I said to him—

"I suppose we shall part company to-day, Mr Gunson?"

"What for? Like your friend there, Esau—tired of me?"

"No," I said; "but we are going on tramp now up to Fort Elk."

"Yes," said Esau, "that's what we're going to do; but I don't quite see what we're to do with our boxes."

"Leave them in charge, as I shall mine, at this settlement," said Gunson. "You'll have just to make a bundle in your blanket that you can carry easily. I shall do the same, and we may as well go on together, and protect one another as we did last night."

He laughed and looked at Esau, who coloured up. "But we are going to Fort Elk," I said.

"So am I," said Gunson, coolly; and I saw Esau give quite a start, and look at me with a countenance full of dismay.

Gunson saw it, and went on quietly—

"I did not mean to go on there, only up this river for some distance, and then off here or there toward the sources of one or other of the streams that run into it from the mountains; but as I have run up against you two, why we may as well go on together; it will give me a chance to knock you both on the head, and then come back here, and get your chests, as well as the money you have in your belts under your clothes."

I stared at him in a horrified way for a moment, and then, as I seemed to understand him, I burst out laughing.

"Nonsense!" I said.

"Oh no. That's the idea of me your companion here has taken."

"Never said nothing of the sort," cried Esau, defiantly, and with his face scarlet.

"Your face says you thought so, my lad."

"Well, a chap can think what he likes, can't he?"

"No, boy," said Gunson, and his one eye seemed to blaze; "not of a man who has done nothing but kindness for you ever since we met, even if it was in a rough way."

"How was I to know you didn't mean artful, and it was all a trick?" said Esau sourly.

"Ah, how indeed?"

"Everybody out here's been trying to get the better of us, and rob us. I couldn't tell you wasn't one of 'em."

"Why, you ill-conditioned cub!" cried Gunson, angrily, "you make me feel as if I should like to thrash you till you could not stand."

"Better not try it," grumbled Esau; "you go your way, and let us go ours. We told you all about ourselves, and where we were going; but you've done nothing but shut yourself up, and look as if you were after no good."

"Esau!" I cried angrily; "it isn't fair. Mr Gunson has always been the best of friends to us, and given us good advice."

"Ah, you always did take his part. I ain't going to make friends with strangers."

"Mr Gunson isn't a stranger. We've known him nearly six months. If you don't trust him, I do."

I held out my hand to him as I spoke, and he brought his down in it heavily, giving me such a grip that I had hard work not to wince. "Thank you, my lad," he said, cheerily. "Then you're going to pitch me over?" said Esau, surlily.

"I'm going to kick you if you go on in this stupid, suspicious way. Don't take any notice of him, Mr Gunson."

"I do not intend to."

"Oh, come, we can't go on like that," cried Esau quickly. "I don't want to be bad friends. I don't want to think you mean to rob us. I don't think—I don't—"

Esau stopped short, shuffled about from one leg to the other, faltered again in his speech as he tried to say something which would not come, and then in a sharp, short, decisive manner, cried—

"Beg your pardon, Mr Gunson. Couldn't help thinking what I did."

"That will do," said Gunson, holding out his hand, which was eagerly seized by Esau. "I know you couldn't help it, my lad. Mine is not a face to invite confidence. I'm an ill-looking dog, and I bite hard sometimes; but I never bite my friends, and they are very few. Look here, Mayne Gordon," he continued, after glancing in Quong's direction to see if he was within hearing, "I am going up this river on such a mission as needs silence, and you have to keep silence too. First of all, what do you suppose I am?"

I shook my head.

"Emigrant," said Esau.

"No; I am a prospector."

"I know," cried Esau, eagerly. "I've copied lots of 'em for prospectors—prospectuses. You get up companies?"

"No," said Gunson, smiling. "The companies follow sometimes. I am a prospector—a searcher for mineral veins and deposits in the mountains. I was convinced that there was gold up here, and we have just had proof that I am right. That Chinaman you see is bound on a similar mission, for those fellows have a wonderful scent for gold. And you see that those big roughs that he calls Melican men, but who were undoubtedly English, have been up here, and found gold. That is a surprise and an encouragement, and a damping, all in one, for it may mean a regular rush of people up the river. Now do you see why I have kept my counsel so long?"

"Yes," I cried.

"Of course," said Esau; "but why didn't you say so before? You might have trusted us."

"Why didn't you become friendly before, my lad? you might have trusted me."

Esau looked at him comically, and gave one ear a rub.

"Now then," said Gunson, "shall we travel on together in company?"

"Of course," I cried.

"Then the sooner the better. Your way will suit me as well as any, so let's make up our packs, leave the boxes in some one's charge here, and then the word is forward."

Two hours later, under Gunson's directions, we had made a pack each, consisting principally of provisions, and Gunson in addition had brought out of his case a rifle and ammunition.

"There, Dean," he said, "you may as well shoulder that, and you may as well carry this, Gordon," he continued, taking a small revolver with holster, strap, and cartridge-box. "You are not to use it except in a case of the most extreme urgency. Strap it on, my lad. It looks formidable, and the possession of such a weapon will often keep off danger."

"What Quong cally?" said that gentleman when we were ready.

"Nothing," said Gunson, shortly; "you don't go our way."

"Yes, go allee same way 'long libber. No other way. Quong cally pack."

"Humph!" ejaculated Gunson; "if we don't employ him, he'll follow us, so one may as well make him useful. We can easily pay him; it will not mean much. Here, make yourself up a pack."

Quong smiled with pleasure, and taking the blanket Gunson threw him out of his chest, he had it soon full of stores and necessaries, a bag of flour being added to his load.

"Want um fizzlum?" said Quong, suddenly.

"Want what?" I said.

"Fizzlum. Bakum powdum make blead."

"Ah, I had forgotten," said Gunson; and he took a small tin from his box.

An hour later the Indians were paddling slowly back along the river, and after a friendly good-bye from the settler who had taken charge of our boxes, we shouldered our packs, and began to trudge up the river-side, finding it easy going, for we were in quite an open part here, with a grassy margin for a short distance at the foot of the mountains on one side. But higher up the rocks began to close in the prospect, there was the faint roar of tumbling water, and dense black pine forests clothed the sides of the valley as far as we could see.

Before we had gone very far along the forest track, the perspiration was oozing out fast on my forehead; and lightly as I was loaded, I began to think regretfully of the boat, and of how much easier it was to sit or kneel there, and watch the Indians paddle, while over and over again I had come to the conclusion that it was a very fortunate thing that we were not alone, but backed up by such a tower of strength as Gunson, whose counsels were called in question every few minutes to decide which way we were to go next.

The direction was undoubted, for, so long as we kept to the valley in which the river ran, we could not be wrong, but the task was to keep along it by a way that was passable to people carrying loads.

For a mile or so beyond the tiny settlement we had left behind, we found, as we had been told, some traces of a track; but it was wanting more often than present, and several times over we thought we had come to the end of it, only for it to begin again some fifty yards further on.

At last though we had passed the final vestige of a trail, and there was the valley before us with the mountains rising up steeply on either side, and our way to make along the steep slope crowded with trees or covered with the debris of great masses of rock which had broken from their hold hundreds upon hundreds of yards above us to come thundering down scattering smaller fragments, and forming a chaos of moss-covered pieces, over and in and out among which we had to make our way.

"Rather rough," Gunson said, "but keep up your spirits: it will soon be much better, or much worse."

"It's always like that—worse," Esau grumbled to me at last, as our companion went forward, while the patient little Chinaman plodded on with his load as steadily as if he had been a machine.

"Never mind, Esau," I said.

"I don't," he replied, sturdily; and he drew himself up, and tramped on with the rifle over his shoulder, evidently very proud of being trusted with it; but he had an unpleasant way of turning sharply round every now and then to look at something, with the result that, after being struck smartly by the barrel of the piece, I had to jump out of his way.

"Beg your pardon," he would say, and a few minutes after forget all about it, and turn the barrel upon me again.

"I say, Esau," I cried, at last, "do be careful with that gun."

"'Tain't a gun—it's a rifle."

"Call it what you like, but don't shoot me."

"Ain't going to," he said, drily. "What's the good? We ain't cannibals. But I say, I wish something nice would come along. I know I could hit it. What would you like—a deer? Deer's very good to eat, isn't it?"

"I suppose so."

"Wonder which is the best place to aim at. His head, I suppose. I should like to bring one down."

"I don't think you'll have a chance, Esau. Besides, we couldn't carry it. We've got as much as we can manage now."

"Ah, but there's another way of carrying meat," said Esau, with a curious cock of the eye. "I mean after it's roasted."

"But we are not hungry yet."

"Not hungry!" cried Esau. "Not hungry! Why, what a fellow you are!" and we trudged on in silence.

After a time Gunson turned round and let us overtake him, laughing the while at our tired and weary looks.

"Loads feel heavy, eh?" he said. "You are not used to them yet. I've been talking to Mr Quong, and he tells me that he is going to hunt about till he finds gold. Then I suppose he'll leave us to ourselves."

We were both too hot and tired to trouble about the Chinaman, and were very glad when, about midday, Gunson called a halt under the shade of a great tree, that grew beside a little brawling stream which came hurrying down from above.

Here we dropped our burdens with a sigh of relief, and partook of some cold bacon and bread, which seemed about the most delicious thing I had ever tasted.

Quong was given a lunch for himself, and he took it aside, ate it quickly, and then, in place of lying down as we did for a good two hours' rest during the heat of the day, he produced a little tin plate and picked his way down to the stream's edge, and then amongst the rocks, till he came upon a patch of gravelly sand over which a few inches of water danced merrily.

Gunson watched him curiously; I did the same, Esau having dropped off to sleep as soon as he had eaten his midday meal.

For it was interesting to see the busy little fellow. His first step was to roll up his sleeves to the elbow, stoop down, and scoop up as much gravel and sand as the tin plate would hold. This he shook about a little under water, brought it all up again, and picked out the stones. Then he held it down low again and worked it about, and picked out a second batch of much smaller stones. Again he placed the tin beneath the water, where it ran pretty swiftly, and kept up a regular circular motion, which caused the fine dirt and sand to be washed out and pass over the side, till only a small patch of sand of a coarse grain remained on the tin; and at last, as if satisfied with his task, he stepped out on to the dry bank, and held the plate sidewise for the water to drain off. This took some few minutes, the hot sun drying the sand as he turned it about with one finger.

Every movement was performed with the most patient deliberation, and in utter unconsciousness of the fact that we were watching him, both eager to learn the result of his search.

It was a long time before we knew, for Quong turned the sand about over and over again, and then inspected it with a peculiarly magpieish air, before he shook his head, tossed the sand away, and selected another spot in the stream, where he went through the same process, while we lay and watched him till the final examination. This time, just as I fully expected to see him toss out the sand, he rose up with a triumphant look on his yellow face, and caught sight of us. His jaw dropped, and he appeared frightened, but the dread seemed to pass away, and he came towards us with his tin.

"Me washee gole," he said, excitedly. "Fine gole."

"Where?" said Gunson, abruptly. "Let's look."

He stretched out his hand for the tin, which was placed in it hesitatingly, Quong's face betokening that he did not expect to see it again.

Gunson gave the half-dry sand a shake which spread part of it over the bottom of the tin, then another and another, while I looked on eagerly, and at last he uttered a contemptuous "pish!"

"I thought you said you had found gold."

"Yes. Quong fine gole. Washee gole."

"Washee gole! Where is it then?"

The Chinaman took back the tin, shook it, peered in among the grains of sand; shook it again and again; then shook his head instead, and looked up at Gunson.

"Yes; washee gole," he said, in a tone of voice which seemed to mean, "but it's gone away now."

"Fancy, my lad, fancy. There, lie down and rest. I'll have a try when we come to a likely place. We must work in the river."

"No; too muchee water," said Quong.

"Yes; here. We must go up higher."

"Quong washee gole," said the little fellow again.

"Well then, where is it?"

Quong shook his head despondently once more.

"Washee gole," he whined, and again his tone of voice seemed to say to me, "and there was some in that plate, but where it's gone to now I haven't the least idea."

"Come along and have a rest."

"Ah! ah! ah!" cried Quong, excitedly, after giving the pinch of sand a final shake. "Gole—gole!"

He held out the tin once more to Gunson, pointing now with one thin yellow finger, and looking triumphantly at both in turn.

"Where?" said Gunson, laughing, as he followed the direction of the pointing finger, and took the plate in his hand to hold it in different directions in the sun. "Ah, I see it. Here, Gordon, come and have a look. He has found the contents of Aladdin's cave all at once."

"I don't see any gold," I said. "Not see it? Oh, there it is plain enough. My word, what patience these Chinese have! There it is, lad, just in the very centre of the plate. See it?"

"No."

"Now try," he cried, as he tilted the plate sidewise, and this time I saw a tiny glittering speck, about the twentieth part of a pin's-head in size, but, small as it was, giving a suggestion of the peculiar yellow colour of gold.

"Is that all?" I cried, contemptuously. "Yes; that's all. There you are, heathen. Take it, and—no, you can't make much of it. That's no use, my man. We must find better places than this, or you'll never go back to China a rich man and become a Mandarin."

"No good place?"

"No; not worth washing."

"Not good to washum," said Quong. "Wait till we get higher up." Quong nodded, took a little phial bottle from somewhere under his garments, and after a great deal of trying, contrived to get the tiny scale on the end of the cork, which he carefully inserted in the bottle once more.

After this he settled himself down to rest till Gunson rose for us to continue our journey, which for the rest of that day was through pine forest, with the trees so closely packed that our progress was exceedingly slow; and evening was coming on fast as we reached a part where the trees opened out more like those in an English park, and there was soft grass beneath our feet.

I was in advance with my eyes fixed upon the ground, which had suddenly become soft and marshy, the reason being plain, for on my left I could hear the hum of falling water, when I suddenly stopped short, and drew back so quickly that I came in contact with Esau.

"What's the matter?" he cried, sharply.

"Hush! Indians," I whispered.

"Indians? Where?" cried Gunson, eagerly.

"They have gone along here," I whispered. "Footmarks."

"Well, don't look so tragic, lad. They will be friendly ones no doubt; and perhaps there is a settlement near, and we can get some fish. Oh, those are their footprints, are they?" he said; and he turned and caught the rifle from Esau. "That fellow had a fine broad foot of his own."

"Yes, he must have been a big man," I said, as I gazed down at the plainly-marked sole and toes in the soft earth.

"Bigger than the one made by Robinson Crusoe's savage," whispered Gunson. "There, get out the revolvers, and mind how you handle them. Be ready to hand me one if I ask after I have fired."

"But you said the Indians were friendly."

"This tribe never is," replied Gunson, cocking the rifle and looking sharply round. "They run away generally, but sometimes they show fight, and we must be ready."

He looked carefully in every direction, and then signed to us to follow.

"He's gone straight on, just in the track we want to follow."

"Is there only one?" I whispered. "Only one, and it's very awkward, for I was just thinking of making camp for the night."

"But we needn't be afraid of one Indian," said Esau, boldly.

"No," replied Gunson; "but we need be of one bear."

"Bear?" I said. "Those are a man's footsteps."

"Those are the prints of a very large bear, my lad," said Gunson; "and judging from their appearance, I should say it's not very long since he passed. Now then, what had we better do?"

I did not feel myself capable of advising, and I suppose Esau was no more of an expert in bear, for he too was silent.

"Don't speak. Follow me; and as we go, hold your packs loosely so that you can drop them in a moment and take to a tree."

"But bears climb trees," I whispered. "Not they," said Gunson. "Come along." And with the shades of evening closing in fast in that wild valley, we followed our companion as he went cautiously on, scanning every bush and rock, not knowing how soon the savage beast, whose prints continued right in the direction we seemed compelled to take, might rush out and dispute the way.



CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

QUONG TAKES REFUGE.

Our way was the same as the bear's, for the simple reason that it was the only open level part we could find on that side of the valley. To our left, the rocks went up in huge, precipitous steps, and then went down to the right to where the river foamed along a couple of hundred feet below. And there, with the greatest regularity, were the great footprints which had deceived me, pretty close beside a little stream which trickled on along the level, till suddenly it turned to the right, and plunged down towards the river.

"Look!" said Gunson, pointing, and there were the footprints again, but turning off now to our right, while our way lay straight on.

"Then he's gone!" cried Esau, eagerly.

Crash! Rush! There was the sound of breaking twigs, as if some monstrous creature was forcing its way through the undergrowth to the right, and I heard another rush behind me as I stood there behind Gunson, too much paralysed to run, as I saw him drop on one knee and raise the rifle to his shoulder.

The rushing noise continued, but it grew more faint, and Gunson rose to his feet.

"We've frightened him as much as he has frightened us. Here, hi! Hallo! where are you?" he cried, as he caught sight of two bundles lying on the ground where they had been dropped.

There was no answer.

"Here, Dean, come along," shouted Gunson again; and I shouted too.

"Ahoy!" came back from some distance away, and a good ten minutes elapsed before Esau reappeared, looking hot and white.

"Did you shoot him?" he said.

"How could I, when you ran away with the ammunition. Seen the bear?"

"No."

"Well, have you seen Quong?"

"No," said Esau, rather dolefully, and looking as if extremely dissatisfied with the part he had played.

"The bear can't have seized him?" I said, looking at Gunson.

"Impossible," he said. "It went the other way."

Just then I caught sight of something blue, and burst out laughing.

"What is it?" cried Gunson.

I pointed upward to where, about fifty feet from the ground, the little Chinaman was perched in a great spruce fir, clinging tightly to one of the horizontal boughs, with his feet on another, and as he peered anxiously down, looking like a human squirrel on the watch for foes.

"Here, come down," I cried. "It's all right now. Come down."

"Yes, come down, you little coward," shouted Esau, who brightened up directly he found that some one had cut a worse figure than he. "I say," he continued, with a forced laugh, "doesn't he look comic up there?"

"Yes," said Gunson, grimly, as he gazed fixedly at Esau, who turned uncomfortable directly, and made no remarks about Quong, as he walked to the foot of the tree, which was about a hundred yards away, and losing sight of its occupant now he was hidden by the intervening boughs.

"Come, Quong," I said, "get down, or we shall leave you behind."

"Gone?" he said in a weak voice.

"Yes; come along."

He descended slowly, and stood before us shaking the grey moss and dead fir-needles from his blue cotton garment.

"Big blown beace," he said. "Quong see him. Velly frighten."

He followed us to where the pack lay, slung it over his shoulder, and we once more tramped on, till a suitable spot was found for our camp—a regular niche in the side of the valley, with a small pine spreading its boughs overhead for shelter.

Here, in spite of the risk of bears, we decided to halt for the night, and a good fire was soon blazing; and as if regularly engaged as our servant, Quong set to work at once, and soon prepared our tea-supper, which was discussed as enjoyably as if we were in good quarters; and that night passed away as I lay rolled up in my blanket, just as if I closed my eyes in the darkness and opened them directly to see the warm glow of the sun lighting up the east, and Quong busy baking cakes in the embers, the tea-kettle steaming away close at hand.

The weariness and low spirits had passed away with the darkness, and after a splash in the stream close by, I felt ready for any amount of journeying.

As I came back from the stream I met Gunson coming towards me.

"Did you see anything?" he said, quietly.

"See anything? Only a squirrel."

"Look down there."

He gave his head a nod a little to the left, and I followed the direction of his eyes.

"Don't start; don't run," he said, quietly. "If the Chinaman knows of it he will make a stampede into the forest, and we shall lose him."

"But perhaps there is one close by," I said, nervously.

"Very likely; for there have been two promenading backwards and forwards about us all night. Look at their marks. These prints are a little smaller than those."

I had not noticed it till he pointed to the fact, and then I saw the foot-marks of two bears plainly enough.

"I'm beginning to think," continued Gunson, "that we have selected their lair for our camp; but as they have not interfered with us, I don't think they will if we leave them alone."

"But I can't eat my breakfast with those things about," I said.

"You have never tried yet, my lad. Try now. I will have the rifle and revolver ready to hand; but take not the slightest notice, and behave as if nothing was wrong."

"But—"

"Come, Gordon, I thought better of you," he said, smiling. "Where is your courage?"

"Come along," I said, making an effort to master the feeling of dread which had come over me; and I saw him smile as Esau came up with his arms full of dead wood for the fire, and directly after we were seated at our meal.

If I had been alone I should have left that spot, beautiful as it was, directly, and I have no hesitation in confessing that it was the most uncomfortable meal I ever ate. But I kept my fears to myself, and only once was caught by Gunson looking anxiously around at the slope clotted with tree, bush, and clump of mossy rock, when his smile made me turn to my tin mug of tea directly.

"I thought you would be the first ready," said Gunson, about half an hour later, when the sun was shining over the shoulder of one of the eastern mountains. "But look at Dean, how slow he is about shouldering the pack, and—what's the matter with Quong?"

For that little individual suddenly came up smiling, with his hand under his blouse.

As he came close up, he drew his tin plate from where it had been tucked up his breast.

"Stop velly little while. Quong washee—see gole."

"Yes," said Gunson, giving me a meaning look, and then taking a step or two nearer the stream; "it looks a likely place; but hallo, arn't these bears' footprints?"

He pointed to the moist earth close to the water's edge, and both Esau and the little fellow ran to look.

Directly after Quong came trotting back in a quick, comical manner, tucking his plate up under his blouse, and seizing and shouldering his pack, an example followed by Esau, who was the quicker of the two, and he kept a sharp look out all the time.

"Now if you went behind that rock and roared, Gordon, or I was to fire my piece, there would be a stampede."

I looked so ready to do what he first proposed, that Gunson said seriously—

"No, no; we have no time to waste;" and we went on up the valley, both Esau and Quong stepping out famously, while I was not at all sorry to leave our baiting-place behind, my liking for bears being decidedly in association with pits, and a pole up which they can climb for buns.

It was a wonderfully beautiful walk that morning, and we determined to try and arrange our halts better, for at the end of about half an hour we found that had we known we could have rested under a roof; two men, who gave us a very friendly welcome, having started a rough kind of ranch, in a level nook close down by the river. In fact they were disposed to be so hospitable that they were half offended because we went almost directly.

We learned from them though that we should find for days to come shanties here and there.

"Where we can rest for the night?" I said to one of the men.

"Of course," he said, with a smile. "We see anybody so seldom, that we're glad of a visitor who can speak of the old country."

"You've got a beautiful place here."

"Yes; tidy, tidy," he said; "only we don't feel quite sure about the river."

"What do you mean?" asked Gunson.

"Why, you see, mate, it's a lively sort of a stream. Quiet enough in winter, unless there's been a power of rain; but in the hot weather, when the snow's melting, it gets so full, that like as not some day t'll wash all this place away."

"But it's fifty feet down there to the water," I said, smiling.

"What's fifty feet to a river like that, boy? Why, after what I've seen I shouldn't jump out of my skin if I saw it rise up a hundred."

"See many bears about?" said Esau, rather anxiously.

"Tidy few, my lad; tidy few; and pretty big uns sometimes," said the man, with a twinkle of the eye. "But berries has been rather plentiful these last two years, and they haven't eat us yet. I wouldn't interfere with 'em, though, if you met any."

"Dangerous?" said Gunson, giving me a merry look.

"Well, it's just as it happens," said the man, watching Esau's mouth, which had slowly opened; "if they takes a fancy to you, they opens their arms, and just gives you a friendly hug; if they don't, they are a bit given to scratching and clawing. Where may you be going, squire?" he added, turning to me.

"Fort Elk," I said.

"Oh! Fort Elk, where they collects the skins. I know. Well, you won't get there to-morrow, nor yet next week. Pleasant journey to you. Don't want to buy a bit o' bacon, I suppose?"

But Gunson said he did, and the transfer was made for a handful of tobacco, Quong grinning with delight at the sight of the red streaks of lean amongst the pinky-white fat, and apparently pleased with the prospect of carrying a few more pounds.

That night we slept at a shanty, and for the next two nights we had no need to camp out; while, what was of great import to us, we found that we need be under no apprehension about provisions, the people, who had settled down where they found open patches of grazing land, being willing enough to sell or barter away flour enough for our wants.



CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

A DIFFICULT PATH.

One day seemed so much like another that we soon lost count of time, as we followed the windings and turns of the river, the beauty of the deep ravines that struck into the valley, each with its little fall or torrent, and the glimpses we kept getting of snow-tipped mountains, keeping off the weariness we might have felt in some open monotonous land.

Every now and then Quong settled down to wash the sands and gravel of the little streams that came tumbling down from the heights; and I saw that Gunson took a good deal of interest in his proceedings; but in spite of Quong's patient endeavours his efforts were always barren, or resulted in the discovery of some tiny speck, which was added to the others in the phial so slowly that, as Gunson laughingly said, it seemed likely to take a year to build up enough gold to make a sovereign.

"The gold is nearer the mountains if there is any, Gordon," he said to me, "and it is impossible to search down here. We must go higher up before I begin after Quong has left us, for I expect that as soon as we get to a spot where he can wash out a scale or two with every pan of sand, he will bid us good-bye."

But as the days went on that time did not arrive. The Chinaman did not seem to think anything about pay for his services, but was delighted to perform them for the sake of the protection of travelling with us, and a share of the food we provided.

So far our journey had been glorious. There had been plenty of hard work, forcing our way through bushes, climbing fallen trees, some so rotten that they crumbled to dust with our weight, and threading our way among rocks; but at every turn there was the grand river foaming and rushing down toward the sea, and masses of black-green forest with pines spiring up toward the sky. One morning as we toiled slowly on, it was very evident that the river was narrowing, and the sides growing steeper. We had often been at some height above it, but always on a slope, where, with a little scheming, we could have got down to the water; but now a sheer wall of rock rose up forty or fifty feet on either side, and below it, looking black and deep, the river swirled and eddied along.

There was hardly a vestige of a trail here, the ground being too stony to leave any traces; but the great stream was our guide, and we climbed and stumbled on, Quong in front bending down under his load, and always patient, calm, and smiling, as if it was quite natural to him to be doubled up under a big bundle which went along in front of us like some curious blanket-clothed creature with thin blue legs.

All at once the rough stony slope of the valley dived down, and Quong, who had just given his load a hitch up on his shoulders, disappeared. I was next, for Gunson had stepped back to take off one of his boots, with Esau holding his pack; and I had reached the spot where I had seen Quong last, prepared for a jump down on to a lower part or ledge of the valley slope, when I found myself face to face with the little fellow, and saw that he had dropped his bundle, and was hurrying back.

As soon as we met, he made a sign for me to be silent, and turned and pointed toward a clump of young firs. I could see no danger, and I whispered to him the one word "Bear?"

He shook his head, and pointed again, when, to my utter astonishment, the green boughs were parted, as there was a flash of silver, and a great salmon fell about a couple of yards away, to begin beating heavily with its tail, and flapping from side to side.

I knew that these fish leaped, and I had heard that some of their bounds up cascades were tremendous, but I had never known that a salmon could spring fifty feet up out of the water over the top of the rocky wall which formed the river-bank, and away through a screen of young firs. There, however, was the fact before me, and with delightful visions of broiled salmon before my eyes, I dropped my pack and ran forward to secure the prize before it should take it into its head to make another gymnastic leap into the water.

It was a splendid fellow, a full yard long, its scales silvery blue and pearly in the morning sunshine, and regardless of wet and slime, I dropped on my knees.

"Oh, you beauty!" I exclaimed, and I raised it by the gills, and— dropped it directly, and remained as if turned to stone, gazing in a hideous, painted red face, which had been thrust out between the boughs of the firs, and stared as wildly at me as I at its owner.

For a few moments I forgot that I had friends behind, and rested there quite still with what seemed to me a terrible silence all around, till it was broken by the salmon throwing itself over, and giving the stones upon which it lay a resounding flap.

I fully expected to see the arm belonging to the head thrust out with a knife in the fist; and when it was darted out from among the bushes, my own hand went involuntarily to the pistol I carried, but I dropped it again as I saw that it was only an open palm extended toward me, and I placed mine therein for a friendly shake, my heart beating less heavily.

Then the hand was withdrawn, the salmon pushed toward me, and the hand held out again.

"Hallo!" cried a voice, which made me glow with satisfaction. "Been fishing, Gordon?"

Gunson strode up to us, and seeing the situation at a glance, he took out his tobacco-pouch, opened it, pinched out a piece, and pointing to the salmon, offered the cut-up herb to the Indian, who now stood out in front of the young pines. I thought it ridiculous to offer what I considered a pinch of rubbish for the salmon; but the Indian laughed, darted back, and returned holding another quivering fish by the tail, threw it down, and held out his hand for the tobacco, evidently well pleased with his bargain.

"Fish is cheap out here," said Gunson, laughing. "Here, Quong, one to cook and one to dry."

Our Celestial friend literally pounced upon the two salmon as prizes as soon as he saw that there was no danger, and set to work cleaning and splitting the fish, lightening them by getting rid of head and tail, and then cutting some splints of wood to keep one well open for drying in the sun and for easy carriage.

"There is nothing to mind," said Gunson. "It is only a fishing party;" and leading the way through the line of young firs, which acted as a screen, we came upon a group of Indians, two men and four women, all busy cleaning and splitting the fish which another man kept hauling up from the river in a rough net.

It seemed a very primitive way of fishing, and we stood looking on and examining some of the salmon hung to dry upon several roughly rigged up poles, before we went to the edge of the shelf upon which all this was going on, to find straight below us the other Indian standing upon a rough platform, made by driving a couple of stout poles into the wall of rock at a fissure, and throwing a few branches across. This man had a coarse net on a ring at the end of a long, stout pole, and watching his opportunity as the fish came rapidly up the rushing water, he plunged the net down, and brought it up with a gasping, struggling salmon. This was transferred to a hanging basket, and hauled up by the Indian at the edge, and carried to the party who were preparing and drying them in the sun for their winter store.

It was all ridiculously easy. The Indian had only to keep on dipping out fish as fast as they could be prepared, and what I saw quite removed any ideas of our taking advantage of the man who had let the fish he carried slip out of his basket, so that it came with a dart to my side of the screen of firs.

"That's an easy way of getting a living," said Esau, as we parted in a friendly way from the Indians, who stared at us in a very heavy, stolid way. "I think I should like to try that."

"For how long?" cried Gunson, with a laugh. "Why, my good fellow, you'd be tired of catching the fish in a week, and more tired of eating them in a fortnight."

"Tired?—of eating salmon?" said Esau, laughing. "Oh, you don't know me. I had some once, and it was lovely."

"Well, we'll try one of ours when we stop for dinner," said Gunson; "but we must do a good morning's tramp first."

That good morning's tramp did not seem to progress much, for the way grew more and more difficult, and it was once taken into consideration whether we had not better strike in away from the river; and we should have adopted this course but for the fear of losing ourselves in the labyrinth of mountains to the north and east, and not being able to strike the stream again.

"You see, hard as the way is, it is sure," said Gunson; "and as your goal and mine too are on the upper waters of the river, we had better keep to it."

It was getting toward midday, and the sun shone forth with such power that we felt the little air there was come down the valley like the breath of an oven, and we should have decided to stop at once, cook our dinner, and rest, but for the fact that there was neither wood nor shade. For we had quite left the patches of forest behind at this point, and were tramping slowly over a bare sterile region of the most forbidding character, low down by the river. Higher up where we could not climb the tall trees again appeared, and every ledge and slope was crowned with dwarf pine, fern, and moss.

"We had better keep on past that bare slope," said Gunson. "I can see trees on beyond it. It looks green, too, as if there was water."

Of course we agreed, for there was not a sign of water where we stood, and thirst was beginning to trouble us all.

So we tramped on, Gunson now leading, and the rushing sound of the river below the wall of rock sounding very tantalising as we grew hotter still, and the heat began to be reflected from the stones in a most unpleasant way. It would have been bad enough for the unladen, but for people burdened as we were it was hard work indeed.

At the end of half an hour the river, which had been hidden from us save when we went close to the edge and looked down, came into view again, for the character of the valley had suddenly changed. We found now that there was the steep slope from high up the mountain to the level of the water, which roared and surged along, and swept away the thin pieces of slaty stone which formed the slope—a clatter-slide, as west-country people would call it. These pieces were all loose and extremely unpleasant to walk upon, being shaley fragments of all sizes, from that of a child's hand up to thin fragments a foot or two across.

The heat here was tremendous, and as we walked the stones gave way beneath our feet, and began setting in motion little stony avalanches, which kept on gliding down till the whole of the slope seemed to be running into the river. No one talked, but strode on, not planting his feet in the footsteps of him who had gone before, but avoiding them, for they formed the centres of so much loose stuff ready to give way at a touch.

We got along over about half a mile of this, and then paused on a bit of a shelf to rest, for about a quarter of a mile farther we saw our resting-place; the clatter ceasing, to give way to verdure with plenty of trees, and in their midst, temptingly beckoning us to fresh exertions, there was the water we needed—a beautiful filmy veil, floating down from hundreds of feet up, arched by a hopeful rainbow, and anon gliding softly like a shower of silver rockets down behind the tall green firs.

We knew that there would be a beautiful pool of water at the foot of that cascade, with green, mossy grass, and plenty of pine-boughs for our fire and to shade us from the scorching sun; and toward this enviable spot we pressed on, with the slope growing steeper and steeper, till at last we paused again for Gunson to investigate.

It was time. For the past five minutes the slide had kept running so much toward the perpendicular, that at every step we loosened stones which began to tear down toward the river, and necessitated leaps and quick plunges to keep us from being carried with them, while a slip would have meant a headlong fall, increasing in speed till the unfortunate was plunged into the foaming torrent which poured down, and would have swept him instantly away.

"Watch how I go," said Gunson. "Keep cool, and don't think of falling. I know it is a hard bit to get over, but it is not above a couple of hundred yards where it is so bad; after that it grows better and better, till you reach the trees. Now then, all stand still while I go first."

He tightened his pack over his shoulder, took a good grip of the rifle, stood for a moment, and then strode forward, going diagonally, as if to reach the top of the slope.

This seemed for the moment unnecessary, and likely to make the journey longer, but I soon saw that it was properly calculated, for as the stones kept on sliding beneath his feet as he struggled upward, he was constantly being brought down to the level of where we stood, perspiring profusely, and fascinated by the peril of the task.

It was only now that I fully realised how steep the side of the valley was, and that a fall must end in the river among the black craggy rocks which stood up so threateningly amongst the white foam.

He went steadily on, and as I stood there I felt, to use the common saying, as if my heart was in my mouth. A dozen terrible thoughts flashed through my mind:—what should we do if he fell and was swept away? It would be impossible to save him; and as to his own powers, I did not believe that any man could battle with that terrible torrent-like river, which would sweep him down, dashing him from rock to rock, till he was carried from our sight, leaving us alone in our despair to try some other way.

The thoughts were paralysing as they came with lightning-like rapidity, for now it was dawning upon me, that shocking as it would be to see my fellow-creature hurled to death like that, somehow Gunson, that rough, stern, disfigured man, had made a kind of impression upon me—that there existed a tie between us. I don't think I liked him, but I felt at that moment as if I would have given anything to have been by his side, as I saw him totter, slip, recover himself, slip again, and begin gliding down fast, but always preserving his perpendicular.

"He's gone," I said aloud; but as the words left my lips he made two or three bounds, sending the stones rushing down heavily, as he regained his old level and went on rapidly. Onward still, but what a length that seemed!—and now I was learning from his progress that the only chance of getting across was to keep right on, exercising all the strength of nerve and muscle one possessed to go forward, for to have stood still meant to begin gliding rapidly downward, sinking more and more in a gathering avalanche of stones as others were loosened from above to fill up the vacancy that was made.

Two-thirds—three-quarters of the way across—and once more he began to slide, but with desperate energy he went on by leaps and bounds now, and we set up a hoarse cheer as we saw him reach firm ground—a cheer which did not reach him, for the whole side of the slide seemed to be in motion, and as I saw him throw himself down, there was a curious rushing, rattling roar, as if fragments of ice were formed on the surface of a torrent and were rushing down into the river.

It was very evident that Gunson was exhausted by his tremendous efforts, for he lay on the rocks, motioning to us with his hand not to come, and we stood looking from one to the other, mutely inquiring what was to be done next. At last he rose, unfastened his pack, threw it down behind him, and came close to the edge of the slide, to look up and about with his eyes sheltered, as if seeking for a better place for us to cross.

I did the same, gazing high up to where the stones grew smaller, and then right down to where the flat, thin fragments plunged into the running river, to be swept away; but, like Gunson, I could see no better place.

By degrees, though, the fluttering, rattling glide ceased, and the slope looked level once more, and then Gunson put his hands to his mouth and shouted—

"Can you hear what I say?"

"Yes."

"Take your packs on your heads, and when you start keep right on; never hesitate; I'll be ready to help."

We heard every word distinctly, and it sounded curiously like a whisper that ran along the surface of the stones; and when he had ended, Quong looked at me sharply with his little black eyes.

"Me go long nex'," he said; and as I nodded, he balanced his great pack deftly on his head, paused for a few moments to get it quite satisfactory, and then stretching out his arms like one who walks along a pole, he started off, while so steep was the slope that his extended fingers nearly touched the stones as he went along.

The little fellow was so light, so steady and clever, that he tripped forward without dislodging anything like the amount of stones that Gunson had set running. But I could see that the effort needed was terrible as he went on and on, increasing his speed now, slowing then, and getting more and more over with far less effort, and giving us no end of encouragement, as he at length reached the rocks, tumbled the load off his head—the load which had never seemed once to lose its poise—and finally we could see him seated facing us wiping his hot face with the front of his blouse.

"He's got over," said Esau, hoarsely.

"Yes," I said, in the same husky tones.

"One of us has got to go next."

"Yes," I said. "Who shall go?"

"Wish I'd got a good pole with a spike at the end," said Esau.

"So do I."

"Or I wouldn't mind if it was only a clothes-prop."

"But we have neither, Esau."

"Well, don't I know we haven't? What's the good o' being so aggravating, and keeping on saying we ain't—we ain't? Lots o' beautiful trees behind us to cut clothes-props to last all Camberwell for life, and there's lots over there in front, but they don't bring us one. It's always the way. There's lots o' money in the Bank o' England, but we couldn't get it to come out here."

"Don't be unreasonable," I said, and I gave quite a start as a stone from above came rattling down.

"Who's unreasonable?" grumbled Esau; "I ain't: only a bit wild at having to go across that precious bit o' solid slide. What do you think my mother would say if she saw me coming here and going to start over that place? Why, it would kill her."

"It does look dangerous," I said, sadly.

"Look! Why, it is. It's horrid."

"But they've got over safely."

"That don't mean I shall. Oh dear, oh dear! This comes o' picking up strange friends, and letting 'em lead us into difficulties. And not so much as a walking-stick to help us."

I was in no humour to argue, with the perilous crossing before me, so I remained silent.

"I said—and not so much as a walking-stick to help us."

"Yes, Esau, I heard you."

"Then why don't you say something?"

"What can I say? Only be plucky and go."

"There you go again! Oh, it does aggravate me. Now you want me to go off first."

"No; I'll go first if you like; but I should like to see you safe over."

"That's just what I feel about you. I say—if I fall I shall go head over heels down, like a ball."

"No, no; you must drop into a sitting position, and slide down."

"If you can," grumbled Esau. "Oh dear, I wish I hadn't come. I'd give all I've got to be sitting down in old Dempster's office, with him bullying me about a mistake in the copying."

"Come along!" came like an echo over the stones, and even that sound sent a few stones sliding down as I looked across and saw Gunson with his hands to his mouth, while just then I saw something which quite cheered me. For there was a faint curl of smoke rising up from among the trees, and I knew that it was Quong making a fire to get us some tea.

"There, Esau," I said, "Quong's getting ready to cook something. Come, you go, and let's have a rest and a good meal."

"Ready to cook indeed! Why the sun's cooking one side of me now. There, look at that."

"Yes," I said, as I looked in the direction indicated; "some kind of eagle."

"Yes; flying away as easily as he likes. Don't it seem a shame that a stupid bird should be able to go along like that, and we have to climb and fall down?"

"Oh, I can't argue about that," I said, desperately, as, somewhat in doubt whether I could balance my pack on my head, I raised it there and stood perfectly still. "I'm going to take a long breath and then start."

"Here, what yer going to do?" he cried. "I ain't going to be left all alone here."

"Well, then, go first."

"But I can't go first and leave you. S'pose you can't get over after, or tumble down, what am I to say to that Mr John?"

"What an unreasonable fellow you are, Esau!" I cried angrily.

"There, you're getting nasty with me. That's right. Now I ask you, ain't a fix like this enough to make any fellow unreasonable?"

"But if we've got it to do, why not do it?"

"Come on!" Gunson shouted, and I took two steps forward, when, bringing up his pack, Esau made a desperate plunge and got before me, sending quite an avalanche of stones down as he shouted—

"Me first!—you wait."

I had no alternative but to step back to the easier slope, and regain my position, while Esau went on tramp, tramp, balancing himself steadily, but instead of striking up the slope he kept straight on for a time, and gradually sinking lower and lower as he went farther away.

"Work upward!" I shouted.

"Well, ain't I?" came back, faintly heard amidst the rattling of the stones; and once more I stood there waiting, suffering agonies as I saw him struggle on, now going down, now fighting his way up, so that his course was like that of a snake across a dusty road, such as I had many a time seen down in the country. Every now and then he tottered, and I thought he was going to fall, but he recovered himself, and went on with his feet sinking in the loose stones, and every now and then descending so far that I thought he would never recover his lost ground.

I did not feel the heat so much now, the perspiration that stood upon my face was cold, and I gave a start now and then, as I shivered in my dread, making sure that he was gone.

When at last I saw him get right across, I closed my eyes, feeling so giddy that I was glad to sit down on my pack for the sensation to pass off, being quite unequal to the task of going in my turn.

"I wish I were not such a coward," I said to myself, as I looked forward and saw Esau lying down and resting. Then I wished I had persevered and gone on, for I should have been out of my misery by that time. Lastly, as I saw Gunson wave his hand, I rose, balanced my pack, and changed the side till I made it fit well over my head. I was quite encouraged to find that it seemed to add to my steadiness, and after taking a last look round, and ending by fixing my eyes upon a point high above where Gunson stood, I took two steps and then stopped, saying to myself, "I shall never do it."

I started again, and from that moment the nervous sensation of dread left me. I felt firm and strong, and that all I had to do was to step boldly, and think of nothing but my pack, taking care that it did not escape from its resting-place upon my head. And oddly enough, my anxiety lest I should let it fall to go bounding down the slope, kept me from thinking about myself as I tramped on, with stones rattling, my feet going down with them, and my breath coming shorter and shorter with the exertion. But I kept my load well balanced, and went on till I was about half way across, when the stones seemed to be much smaller and began to flow like sand. It appeared as if all the larger ones had been set in motion by my companions, and that they had gone down, sweeping the surface clear for me to grow more involved at every step, till I found that no matter how I struggled to get higher so as to keep near the horizontal line of the crossing, I kept sinking lower and lower till I felt that I should glide right into the river before I was across.

With a desperate feeling of determination I kept on bearing up toward the top, but it was always quite labour in vain, through my want of skill, as the smaller stones being more fluent, I found myself still sinking down more and more with every step, till, mingled with the peculiar rattle of the gliding stones, came the roar of the river foaming and dashing amongst the rocks, and into which I expected to be plunged.

Forward still, with a feeling of anger growing within me—a contempt for my own weakness that still kept back the feeling of dread. I had lost sight of Gunson and Esau, and thinking now of nothing but keeping on my legs, I dragged foot after foot out of the stones, and tried to plant one on firmer ground, but tried in vain, till at last I had been carried down so low that though my head was averted, and my eyes were directed toward the spot I ought to have reached, I knew, as I made my last desperate effort, that I was only a few yards above the water.

Then, crash!—crash!—crash!—crash!—my feet striking heavily and sending the stones flying, I fought blindly on. There was a singing in my ears, a sense of strangling in my throat, and above all, a dull, half-stunned sensation, mingled with which were thoughts of the others; and then as darkness came over me, and I fell forward, there was a sharp jerk, a few encouraging words were said by some one, and I found myself lying amongst stones and moss, too much exhausted to speak.

"Better?" said a well-known voice.

"Better?" I said, faintly; "have I been ill?"

"Ill? No, my lad; but you've had a narrow escape. You were nearly down to the edge of the river when I got hold of your hand."

"And the pack?" I said, in a husky whisper.

"It lies out yonder on the slope, waiting till the next slide of stones sweeps it away."

"Then I dropped it?" I said, wonderingly.

"Yes. Never mind the pack; you are safe. Why, you did not manage so well as we did, Gordon."

"No," I said, feeling very much exhausted and faint; "and yet I thought I could do it better. The stones gave way so."

Gunson laughed.

"Yes; we ought to have tried another plan. The whole slope is quite rotten, and nothing holds the stones together."

I looked round now, and found that we were at the very bottom of a steep bit of precipice, down which something blue was coming cautiously, which we recognised as Quong.

"What is it, my man?" said Gunson.

"Come 'long down get pack," said Quong. "You velly bad?" he continued to me.

"No, no, we must leave it," said Gunson; and I looked at where my pack lay, tightly done up in its blanket, about a score yards away.

"Leave pack?" cried Quong, looking at Gunson as if he thought him mad. "Leave fo' Indian man come find? No. Quong set him." And going quickly and delicately over the stones with a step that was almost cat-like in its lightness, he had reached my bundle almost before Gunson could protest. Swinging it up on his head as he turned, he began to come back as quickly as he went, but now he began to get lower and lower.

"He'll be swept away!" cried Gunson, excitedly; and, placing one foot at the extreme verge of the firm ground, he reached out towards the Chinaman.

"Give me your hand, my lad," he cried, hoarsely; and as I lay there, I stretched out my hand to have it seized, while I watched Quong coming nearer, splashing up the water now and sending the spray flying as he strained forward to get hold of Gunson.

For a few moments we both thought he was gone, for he had glided down till the water was over his ankles, and still, as he reached out, he was a few inches from Gunson's grasp, while for him to have moved would have been fatal; but he made one more effort, hooking his fingers over Gunson's, and then there was another jerk, the bundle came over on to me, and as our friend made a violent muscular effort to throw himself back, the little Chinaman was dragged right over on to firm ground.



CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

HOW WE FOUND OUT A PUZZLE.

"Ah!" said Quong, getting up and shaking his legs; "got velly wet."

"You stupid fellow! you nearly lost your life," said Gunson, angrily.

"Lose life?" said Quong, looking puzzled; "who lose life? Don't know."

"There, go on up and take the pack. Can you climb up, my lad?"

I replied that I could, and followed Gunson, who showed me the way he had descended by the help of the rocks, and projecting roots of the dwarf firs which began to grow freely as soon as the slaty shale ceased.

Esau was waiting at the top, ready to lend me a hand, smiling triumphantly as soon as we were alone.

"You should have tried to go up all of a slope as I did," he said, "not down of a slope as you did."

"I tried my best, Esau," I said, sadly.

"Of course you would. Well, I hope there isn't going to be much more like that for us to do. Once is enough."

By this time Quong was back at his fire, and we soon after partook of our mid-day meal, with copious draughts of tea for washing it down, and after an hour's good nap started off again to find no further difficulties that afternoon, for our journey was through pine forest once more, where the grey moss hung like strands from the older branches, and in the more open places the dark, bronze-leaved barberry grew plentifully, with its purple-bloomed fruit which hung in clusters, and had won for themselves the name of "Oregon Grapes."

They did not prove to be grapes, though, that we cared to eat, for Esau's testing of their flavour was quite enough for both. The report he gave me was "Horrid"; so I contented myself with the little bilberries and cranberries we came upon from time to time.

It was on the second day after our struggle across the slope, that we came to a complete change in the scenery. The valley had been contracting and opening out again and again; but now we seemed to come at once upon a portion of the river where the sides rose up almost perpendicularly, forming a wild, jagged, picturesque, but terrible gorge, down which the river came thundering, reduced to narrow limits, and roaring through at a terrible speed. The noise, multiplied as it was by echoes, was deafening, and as we stood gazing at the vast forbidding chasm, our journey in this direction seemed to have come suddenly to an end.

I looked up at Gunson, and found he was looking at me, while Esau had got his hat off scratching his head, and Quong had placed his bundle on the ground, seated himself, and was calmly resting as if there were no difficulties before him—nothing troublous in the least.