He turned away sadly, when, just as he did so, he thought he saw the little burro's side heave. With a shout of delight, he stooped down, though he had not the faintest idea whereabouts to locate the animal's heart, and was feeling for a throb, when, with two or three deep breaths, the burro opened his eyes and staggered to his feet; looking with a mild surprise on Roger, who was dancing the wildest kind of a war-dance round him and whooping enough to make it sound as though the Apaches were on the scalping trail once again.
But while the difficulties of the trip were by no means over, the dangers were now few. Roger knew that he was bound to strike the Indian trail which paralleled the river on the southern side, and that, if he desired still easier going, though probably longer, he had only to follow any of the terraces and he would strike one of the trails. He decided on the latter course, and with Jack following him with absolute docility, he commenced his long trip up the other side of the Canyon. On and on he went, hour after hour passed, when, just as the boy had given up all hope of ever reaching the trail, the burro turned sharply and stood still. The afternoon was drawing on, and between hunger and exhaustion Roger was very nearly played out. Looking up, however, he found he could just discern the edge of the Canyon near the hotel, and he knew that the little black specks upon the brink were people, probably looking down at him, and all unaware of the desperateness of his condition.
His handkerchief had been lost somewhere, so Roger tore off the sleeve of his shirt to wave at the people, and a following glint of white told him that they were waving back. But it was help that he wanted, not greeting, and the boy puzzled his brains to think how he could signal at that distance. Then an idea struck him, and looking up to see that the people were there, he stumbled and fell as though to make them think that he had been hurt or wounded in some way. A rapid increase in the numbers on the edge of the chasm told him that his ruse had succeeded, and in a few minutes he saw several people debouch on the trail, which was only visible for a few yards from the summit.
He pulled himself together and started up the trail, but it was not until it was almost dark that the rescue party found him, the leader being a long, gaunt frontiersman.
"What's your name?" demanded the latter.
"Got anything to eat?" promptly countered Roger, to whom this was the chief need.
The frontiersman signed to one of the party who had brought some provisions along, and after the boy had been somewhat refreshed, the old man said:
"Now tell us whar you've been."
"I've come from the other side, down Bright Angel Canyon," replied Roger tersely, "and I came to get grub for the Survey camp."
Numerous inquiries brought from the boy enough of the story to give the members of the search party a fair idea of what had happened. He was too tired to talk, however, and contented himself with an appeal that Jack should be well looked after, and thereafter satisfied himself with sticking to the saddle of the mule which had been brought down for him to ride. When they reached the hotel the frontiersman walked into the rotunda with the boy, and as they stood before the desk, he turned to the crowd assembled and said: