“No, you don’t,” Joe said grimly. He looked even more disturbed than he had the day of his accident on the Henderson dock. It was especially strange since Joe had been in excellent spirits all through the trip downriver.
There was an awkward pause that was broken by Mr. Cook bending over their cookfire. “No sense in wondering about something that must be fifteen or twenty miles away,” he declared. “Let’s eat.”
Dinner was a silent, thoughtful affair. As soon as the dishes were scraped and cleaned in the river, Mr. Cook announced he was going to turn in. “We’ll be up by dawn tomorrow,” he said. “So I advise you boys to do the same.”
Mike yawned and said he thought it was a good idea. Fifteen minutes later, the camp was quiet. But Sandy, who was stretched out near the fire, found he couldn’t sleep. The excitement of his narrow escape from the rapids was still with him. And now, added to that, here was Joe’s odd behavior to worry about.
Restlessly he tossed and turned, dead-tired, but still awake. Finally—it must have been nearly nine o’clock because he saw the moon was beginning to rise—he opened his eyes with an angry shake.
Their clearing was in almost total darkness. The only light came from the few embers that still glowed in the ashes. Suddenly Sandy became aware of a figure on the other side of the fire. In the faint light Sandy could just make out a face. It was Joe.
He was sitting with his arms crossed over his drawn-up knees, staring into the red coals. His eyes were clouded with worry and there was a heavy, brooding look about his mouth.
Sandy wondered whether to speak, but decided against it. Joe, he knew from experience, was not a man who would willingly talk about his troubles. All at once Sandy realized he was sleepy. He made up his mind to forget about the mystery that surrounded Joe. He would think about the cougar hunt tomorrow. And if he was very lucky, he would forget about his experience in Cutthroat Rapids forever.
He finally fell into a fitful sleep that was streaked and shattered by nightmares. Three huge black crows were chasing Joe, and he was trying to help. As they ran together, they came to a quiet stream. But as they started to cross, the stream became a roaring river and the three crows turned into giant cutthroat trout. Sandy could see the red slashes on either side of their lower jaws as they strained to catch him in their razor-sharp teeth. Twisting himself around in a desperate attempt to escape, he swam faster through the boiling current.
Suddenly he was awake, drenched with sweat and shaking like a reed. The panic left him as soon as he knew where he was. Before he settled himself back into his sleeping bag, he looked over at the fire.