"Why," she gasped, "didn't all escape?"
"Naw. The best has gone down, the only men of the whole gang."
"Who? Oh, tell me quick!"
"Old Pete an' the parson."
The words smote Constance like a sudden blow. Pale at the first intimation of the disaster, she was like death now. She tried to speak, but could utter not a sound.
"Don't be frightened, Miss," said the man not unkindly, noticing her excitement. "It may not be as bad as we think."
"Oh, tell me!" she gasped, "what has happened?"
"Well, to tell you the truth, Miss, we don't know much ourselves. You see we were at that devilish job when the parson landed upon us with a yell which made our blood run cold. Then there was a scramble for the high bank, and I guess the Injuns are scramblin' yet, for they haven't shown up since. It was Pete who first shouted out for the parson, and when he could not be found I thought the old man would go mad. He made for the river with one bound, and the last we heard of him was his cry, "I'm comin', laddie!" and then the flood was upon them."
"But didn't anyone go to their rescue?" asked Constance excitedly. "Did the men all stand by and let them drown?"
"Not a bit of it, Miss. Most of the men are down yon searchin' the shore, but it's so dark I'm afraid they can do very little. We've made this fire to guide them back, and if they do find the poor chaps, a little heat won't be amiss, I reckon."