Then, in an instant, something did happen. Just ahead of the boat was a little fall, where the current plunged over a ledge. It seemed to Oliver that the boat could leap this; he wondered if the crew saw it, before them; but he could do nothing, by voice or gesture, to warn them. He held his breath, watching. Out into the fall sprang the boat; but it did not clear—it toppled head-first, and spilling crew and baggage right and left it reappeared bottom-up!
[As it came whirling down, helpless and inert, heads broke up around it.] Lieutenant Frémont bobbed to the surface; he rose to his shoulders, as he swam, battling the current and looking for his men. Twice he was shunted from a sharp rock; and now he gave up and struck out lustily for the shore. He landed, and landed below him Mr. Preuss.
[AS THE BOAT CAME WHIRLING DOWN, HELPLESS AND INERT, HEADS BROKE UP AROUND IT]
Now the boat had lodged against the Oliver side of the canyon, where a rock shoulder out-jutted. Basil Lajeunesse had clambered upon the upturned bottom, which looked like a huge turtle shell, and reaching he grabbed somebody by the hair. It was Joseph Descoteaux. Oliver heard what they said; they were only a few yards above him, and the words drifted along the canyon wall. He had picked up a smattering of French at Taos, where Kit Carson and others spoke it as well as Spanish.
“Lâche pas,” gasped Joseph; “lâche pas, cher frère!” (“Loose not, loose not, dear brother!”)
“Crains pas,” panted Basil, sturdily. “Je m’en vais mourir avant que de te lâcher!” (“Fear not. I’ll die before I’ll let you go!”)
That was a brave answer.
Basil hauled Joseph upon the boat-bottom. In one hand Joseph clutched a double-barrel gun, which was Lieutenant Frémont’s. And now, dripping, out upon a narrow strip of sand bordering the current, below, and where Oliver stood, crawled Clément Lambert, Leonard Benoit and Honoré Ayot, so that all the crew were accounted for.