[THE GUARDIAN OF THE PASS.]
It was the sudden change in the color of the water that made Nick Salveson realize something was wrong.
All day thunder had been muttering far up in the mountains, but down in the river valley the autumn sun had been shining warm; and, busy with his fishing, Nick had paid no attention to the heavy clouds which hung over the jagged peaks upstream.
Suddenly the water lost its crystal clearness, and turned to a yellow, muddy hue, and the canoe began to strain at her anchor rope.
"Reckon it's about time to quit," muttered the young fellow; and, hastily reeling in his line, he laid the rod down and set to work to pull up the anchor.
It was badly jammed between two rocks at the bottom. By the time he had cleared it the river had risen at least two feet, and was roaring down in a sheet of muddy foam.
"Guess there's been a cloud burst up in the hills," said Nick to himself as he turned the bow of the canoe upstream.
He was not uneasy. He had spent the whole summer in Alaska, and could handle a canoe as well as most boys of his age.
He had been anchored close in under the far bank. To reach his camp he had to cross the whole width of the river, and return nearly a mile upstream.
But he had not taken six strokes before he realized that two strong men could not have paddled the canoe back against the flood that was now coming down. The only thing to do was to get across, land anywhere he could, pull the canoe up, and walk back.