He opened his eyes widely, cast off his coat, pistol, boots, and saddle, bound his precious pack tightly to his shoulders, grasped the bare flanks of Jovita with his bared knees, and, with a shout, dashed into the yellow water.
A cry rose from the opposite bank as the head of a man and horse struggled for a few moments against the battling current, and then were swept away, amid uprooted trees and whirling driftwood.
The Old Man started and awoke.
The fire on the hearth was dead, the candle in the outer room flickering in its socket, and somebody was rapping at the door.
He opened it, but fell back with a cry before the dripping half-naked figure that reeled against the door-post.
“Dick?”
“Hush! Is he awake yet?”
“No,—but Dick——?”
“Dry up, you old fool! Get me some whisky quick!”