For himself, he took Royal's sweep and struggled with it. But he was woefully ignorant of how to apply his strength and had only the faintest idea what he ought to do.
Meanwhile the thunder of the White Horse steadily increased.
Having brought the last of the Courteau boats through the canon,
'Poleon Doret piloted the little flotilla across to the town of White
Horse and there collected his money, while Pierce Phillips and the
other men pitched camp.
The labor of making things comfortable for the night did not prevent Lucky Broad from discussing at some length the exciting incidents of the afternoon.
"I hope her Highness got an eyeful of me shooting the chutes," said he, "for that's my farewell trip—positively my last appearance in any water act."
"Mighty decent of you and the Kid to volunteer," Pierce told him.
"It sure was," the other agreed. "Takes a coupla daredevils like him and me to pull that kind of a bonehead play."
Mr. Bridges, who was within hearing distance, shrugged with an assumption of careless indifference. "It takes more 'n a little lather to scare me," he boasted. "I'm a divin' Venus and I ate it up!"
"You—liar!" Lucky cried. "Why, every quill on your head was standing up and you look five years older 'n you did this morning! You heard the undertaker shaking out your shroud all the way down—you know you did. I never seen a man as scared as you was!" When Bridges accepted the accusation with a grin, the speaker ran on, in a less resentful tone: "I don't mind saying it hardened my arteries some. It made me think of all my sins and follies; I remembered all the bets I'd overlooked. Recollect that pioneer we laid for four hundred at Dyea?"
The Kid nodded. "Sure! I remember him easy. He squawked so loud you gave him back half of it."