To any one but this Texan, the scene would have been appalling. The creek, which so short a time before had rolled peacefully on, now dashed madly over the rocks, impelled onward by an irresistible force. Giant trees bent almost double and the air was filled with flying branches. The noise was frightful. All nature seemed bent on destruction. Watson calmly applied restoratives and guarded his charges from new danger. The girls, he knew, would recover as they now showed signs of returning consciousness; and, though he could discover no outward sign of injury on Elisha’s person, his heart had ceased to beat. Stimulants, artificial respiration were employed, but all to no purpose.
Eletheer was the first to recover consciousness. She opened her eyes, looked around in a dazed manner, sat up and took hold of Watson’s arm. He had interposed his brawny form so that her glance might not first rest on the now stiffening body of Elisha.
“Hello, my girl! Just hold up a bit. Miss Genung is coming around all right. See, she’s squirmin’ now.”
Eletheer looked. “Yes, Mary was not killed but where is Elisha?” she asked, now fully herself.
“Well ye see, my girl, he—well I’ll be doggoned, I reckon God Almighty knows best!”
“Is he dead?”
“Well ye see—”
“Yes, I see,” she said, pushing him aside and laying her hand over Elisha’s heart. No pulsation there, and only too well did she recognize the look that comes but once to the human countenance. She rebuttoned the shirt, passed her hand over his face, and folded those hands which had helped in so many ways.
Watson’s knowledge of the female sex was limited. He knew they were liable to do various things under circumstances like the present, and he tried to be prepared, but his voice was very unsteady as he said,—“I reckon he went mighty quick!”
“Death must have been instantaneous,” Eletheer reasoned aloud, as she pushed the damp hair from his temples.