The party kept on up-stream until they were nearly opposite the mouth of our little creek, and then the leader, turning short to his right, headed his horse across the river, the rest following. The horses understood their business, evidently; they came slowly across, walking sideways or nearly so, with their heads up-stream; the water, which was very swift, being almost half-way up their bodies. It looked dangerous, especially for the little boys, who, should their horse stumble, would almost certainly be swept away and drowned.
The man was within twenty feet of the bank when the very thing we had been half expecting happened. The boys’ horse stepped into a hole, fell upon his knees, and was rolled over in a trice. The smaller boy was instantly whisked away; but the elder, having the reins in his hands, held on to them. At the cry of the children the man looked back, and promptly swung his horse round to go to their assistance; but seeing that the elder boy still had hold of the bridle, that the horse had regained his feet and was standing steady with his legs wide apart, and seeing also that the woman was making all possible haste to the rescue, he turned back again and came splashing towards the bank, with the intention of galloping down-stream and “heading off” the other boy, who, small though he was, was swimming along like a cork.
The very instant that this catastrophe happened Jack burst out of the willows and ran down towards the river, but Percy, having caught a glimpse of the small boy’s head bobbing along down-stream, grabbed up a long picket-rope which fortunately lay near at hand, and calling to me to follow, set off as hard as he could run down the bank.
Having caught up with and passed the boy, who, with the stoicism of his half-Indian nature, was all this time swimming along without making a sound, Percy flung the coil of rope to me with a “Hold on to that, Tom,” seized the end between his teeth, scrambled down the rocks, waded out as far as possible, and then, throwing himself forward, struck out for mid-stream. As the little brown-faced youngster came sweeping by, Percy grasped him by the shirt between the shoulder-blades, gripped the rope with his left hand, and called to me to haul in.
It was all very well to say “Haul in”; the best I could do, sitting with my feet braced against the rocks, was to avoid being hauled in myself, the current was so strong. The moment the rope tightened, down went Percy and the boy under the water, reappearing directly with much spluttering and gasping; and then for the first time the little shaver began to cry and struggle. At the same moment there was a rush of footsteps, and Jack was down in the water pulling on the rope, which, between us, we drew in hand over hand. Percy and the boy were almost within reach when I heard a clatter of hoofs behind me, and a tall man threw himself from his horse, half climbed and half tumbled down the rocks, waded into the river, and seized the boy by the shoulder and Percy by the wrist; none too soon, either, for Percy’s arm was almost pulled out at the socket.
Two minutes more, and we were all high and dry on the bank again, shaking hands with each other, and praising the little whimpering youngster for being so brave. The whole thing, I believe, occupied hardly five minutes.
The tall stranger, who stood there still holding his shivering little son in his arms, was evidently a man of few words, one of the silent kind who have neither the gift nor the habit of expressing their feelings in flowing language. Setting the boy upon the ground and telling him to “cut along” to his mother, he extended his hand again to Percy and said, “You did that mighty well,—mighty well. I am ever so much beholden to you. Come on. Let’s get back to camp.”
The Indian woman had already lighted a fire, and the two little brown-bodied rascals, stripped of their clothing, were running about quite happy, not a whit the worse for their ducking. While the squaw unpacked and unsaddled the horses, which she set about doing as though it were her regular duty (as no doubt it was), the man came over to the roaring camp-fire I had started, and with Percy and Jack took up a position before it, where he and they were soon steaming away like so many geysers.
“Hunting?” asked our laconic new acquaintance.
“Yes,” replied Jack, with equal brevity.