After an hour of these vain regrets he hobbled down just below the rapids, but there was no sign of the Indian’s body. Watch as he did, he saw nothing but the foaming spray as it roared down the rapids. Big Boy’s brave, faithful countenance Hal never saw again—not even in death.
He limped on downstream, despondent and irresolute. The canoe was no good to him without a paddle, the Indian was gone.... Fate, he decided, was taking an awful whack at him and he resented it. He had planned so much to repay Big Boy—he had even painted mind pictures of taking him home to his mother in Ramapo, N. Y. There in the shadow of the undulating hills he would have looked quite picturesque. But now it could never be, and the sad part of it was that he had not been given the slightest chance to show Big Boy his deep gratitude.
Suddenly Hal thought of the watch and he took it out of his pocket, looked at it a moment, then put it back on his own wrist with a wistful smile. It had been a queer give and take between them, yet he was glad that it had been so. Until the longest day he lived, he would always think of the watch as a farewell token of the Indian’s.
A macaw, gorgeously plumed, flew over his head, and further down along the bank he noticed that the jungle thinned out. That always meant a clearing, so he hesitated for a time, drawing back under the trees and listening. He would not, he determined, walk into any cannibal camps with his eyes closed.
He listened for fully five minutes and then suddenly noticed something golden flitting in and out of the trees below. Emboldened, he hurried on until he saw that it was not a mirage, but a real white girl with a crown of lovely golden hair who was running along the bank.
Hal’s heart seemed to come up in his mouth then. He wanted to call right away, but he seemed powerless to do aught but stand and stare at her slim figure swaying along under her flowing, old-fashioned skirt. And when she turned to look out over the river, he noticed that her feet were quite small, despite the clumsy canvas shoes she wore.
He thought of his own appearance then, bedraggled and unkempt. And though his ruined sport shoes were unsightly indeed, he felt really more conscious of his terrible growth of beard. Not being able to see himself, he visualized his appearance as being nothing short of disgraceful. Certainly, he was not fit to show himself before such a vision as that girl was who was standing on the bank.
And so in disgust, Hal was about to hide himself until she had gone, but he was just too late. She caught sight of him, hesitated with wonder, then started toward him on a run.
With a graceful bow, Hal hurried toward her, also, and steeled himself for the worst under a critical, feminine eye. But he was destined to be surprised, for she seemed not to notice any deficiency in his attire. Indeed, her first observation was quite unexpected.
“A white man—my goodness!” she exclaimed in a voice that was husky, yet not harsh. “My goodness!”