CHAPTER IX
THE RIVER JOURNEY
"Best pour a little of this down his throat. It'll cut an' burn, but if there's a spark o' life left in him it'll set it to blazin'."
Harry became conscious of the "cutting" and "burning," and, struggling weakly, he sat up.
"That's better," continued the deep, masculine voice. "You've been layin' on your face, lettin' the Kentucky River run out of your mouth, while we was poundin' you on the back to increase the speed o' the current. It's all out o' you now, an' you're goin' to keep your young life."
The man who spoke was standing almost over Harry, holding a flask in one hand and a lantern in the other. He was obviously a mountaineer, tall, with powerful chest and shoulders, and a short red beard. Near him stood a stalwart boy about Harry's own age. They were in the middle of a raft which had been pulled to the south side of the Kentucky and then tied to the shore.
Harry started to speak, but the words stopped at his lips. His weakness was still great.
"Wa'al," said the man, whimsically. "What was it? Sooicide? Or did you fall in the river, bein' awkward? Or was you tryin' to swim the stream, believin' it was fun to do it? What do you think, Ike?"
"It wasn't no sooicide," replied the youth whom he had called Ike. "Boys don't kill theirse'ves. An' it wasn't no awkwardness, 'cause he don't look like the awkward kind. An' I guess he wasn't tryin' to swim the Kentucky, else he would have took off his clothes."
"Which cuts out all three o' my guesses, leavin' me nothin' to go on. Now, I ain't in the habit of pickin' floatin' an' unconscious boys out o' the middle o' the river, an' that leaves me in unpleasant doubt, me bein' of an inquirin' turn o' mind."