At the same instant a scream broke down the river from the cliffs higher up.
Bean bounded to an overhanging rock, braced his feet in a crevice and leaned far over. Stamford came up almost beneath his hand, gasping, already half drowned, surrendering to the icy torrent that started in distant glaciers. He could not swim a stroke. Bean's bony fingers closed over his hair, stayed his progress, and the other hand moved down to his arm.
"Here, yu noodle!" he shouted. "Yu got to help yerself, or I'll let yu go. This ain't no time to faint. Grab my shoulders. Now work yer way up my body. Yu'll find bones thar to catch hold of. Now—all together!"
Stamford lay panting on the rock. Bean, perspiration bursting from every pore, leaned weakly on his elbow beside him.
"Whew!" he puffed.
That was all, but his limbs were shaking, and the perspiration trickled down his neck and dampened his loose neckerchief. A great gush of affection passed between the two men, though neither spoke. Stamford extended his hand and laid it on Bean's, and the cowboy looked away and drew a coloured bandana with his free hand and rubbed it round his neck.
Presently he sat up and stared up the river.
"Huh!" he grunted. "Yu shure don't take a bath of'en, do yu?"
"Not that way—never again!" replied Stamford fervently.
"Thought not."