He was morally certain that a number of the party had already lost their lives, and a twinge of anguish shot through his heart as he reflected upon the females and the tender children exposed to this perilous war of elements. And then, too, the wagon containing the remains of those who had fought so gallantly in Dead Man’s Gulch—what a ghastly fate had overtaken them! It seemed, indeed, as if nature had joined with man in heaping unimagined horrors upon the heads of the weak and defenseless, and that nothing remained but to await shudderingly the fate that could not be postponed much longer.
But amid the rack and turmoil and swirl of the canon, the thought of his beloved Lizzie Manning would present itself, and he could not help wondering, doubting, fearing and hoping all in the same breath.
Was she living and had she survived the ordeal uninjured up to this time? Or had her gentle nature succumbed at the first shock? She had proven herself a heroine in Dead Man’s Gulch, and was she equal to this? If still living, how much longer could she bear the strain upon her system?
But ere Egbert Rodman could conjecture any replies to these questions, he was called upon to make a still more desperate fight for his own life.
His mustang, encountering some obstruction, made such a sudden, furious plunge, that his tail was drawn from the loose grasp of Egbert, who, aiming to renew it, clutched vaguely in the darkness and was unable to reach his faithful animal. He could hear him floundering and neighing close at hand, but there was no use of attempting to reach him, and he called to the horse, in the hope that he would succeed in making his way to him; but he was disappointed in this also, for the noise of the struggles speedily ceased, and he concluded that the faithful animal was dead.
Rather curiously the young man had clung to his rifle ever since he was caught by the water tornado, and now that he was somewhat cooler and more collected, he resolved that nothing but “death should them part.” It was troublesome to swim with it grasped in one hand, but he was quite able to do it, where the current possessed such extraordinary velocity, and he moved forward with little effort on his part.
All this passed in a tenth part of the time taken by us in writing it, and Egbert Rodman had scarcely gained a connected idea of what was going on, when he made the discovery that the channel through which he had been dashed was widening and considerably decreasing. The deafening crash that had been in his ears from the moment he was carried off his feet, now sunk to a dull noise, proving that he had emerged from the canon, and was floating over what might be termed a lake—caused, undoubtedly, by the widening of the pass through which Lightning Jo had attempted to guide the little party, with its two wagons.
With this discovery of the comparative calmness of the water, came, for the first time, something like returning hope to Egbert Rodman, who, feeling confident that there must be a tenable foothold at no great distance, began swimming forward regularly, so as to avoid being carried around in a circle.