He and George had just strength enough to make the painter fast to the sapling, and then they sank down side by side on the grass, and lay there panting and exhausted.
They were so dazed and bewildered by their escape from the grasp of the current, which they regarded as little short of miraculous, that they could not speak.
They did not move until they were brought to their feet by a low, rumbling noise, followed by an explosion so terrific that it would have drowned the discharge of a battery of the heaviest artillery.
“What in the name of wonder was that?” gasped Bob, who was so weak that he shook like a leaf.
George did not answer. He was looking over Bob’s shoulder, with eyes that seemed ready to start from their sockets.
Bob faced about, and saw a sight that well nigh extinguished the little spark of vitality which the terrors of the canyon had left in him.
CHAPTER XXV.
SAM ASKS FOR HIS PAY.
“We did our very best to save him, but he’s gone, and my father is a millionaire.”
This was the burden of Arthur Howard’s thoughts, as he wandered restlessly about the grove, with his hands in his pockets, and his eyes fixed on the ground. The bank of the river was deserted by all save himself.
The herdsmen were gathered in little groups about the ranch, conversing in hushed tones, and now and then there was an ominous growl among them that boded no good to somebody, and threatening eyes and scowling faces were turned toward the window of the office.