man lay on his back on the sand-bar, staring upward, unblinking, at the
sun. A man, in irritated tones, was questioning over and over,
"Where's his pardner? Ain't he got a pardner?" Two more men had
thrown off their packs and were coolly taking an inventory of the dead
man's possessions. One called aloud the various articles, while the
other checked them off on a piece of dirty wrapping-paper. Letters and
receipts, wet and pulpy, strewed the sand. A few gold coins were
heaped carelessly on a white handkerchief. Other men, crossing back
and forth in canoes and skiffs, took no notice.

The Scandinavians glanced at the sight, and their faces sobered for a
moment. "Where's his pardner? Ain't he got a pardner?" the irritated
man demanded of them. They shook their heads. They did not understand
English. They stepped into the water and splashed onward. Some one
called warningly from the opposite bank, whereat they stood still and
conferred together. Then they started on again. The two men taking
the inventory turned to watch. The current rose nigh to their hips,
but it was swift and they staggered, while now and again the cart
slipped sideways with the stream. The worst was over, and Frona found
herself holding her breath. The water had sunk to the knees of the two
foremost men, when a strap snapped on one nearest the cart. His pack
swung suddenly to the side, overbalancing him. At the same instant the
man next to him slipped, and each jerked the other under. The next two
were whipped off their feet, while the cart, turning over, swept from
the bottom of the ford into the deep water. The two men who had almost
emerged threw themselves backward on the pull-ropes. The effort was
heroic, but giants though they were, the task was too great and they
were dragged, inch by inch, downward and under.

Their packs held them to the bottom, save him whose strap had broken.
This one struck out, not to the shore, but down the stream, striving to
keep up with his comrades. A couple of hundred feet below, the rapid
dashed over a toothed-reef of rocks, and here, a minute later, they
appeared. The cart, still loaded, showed first, smashing a wheel and
turning over and over into the next plunge. The men followed in a
miserable tangle. They were beaten against the submerged rocks and
swept on, all but one. Frona, in a canoe (a dozen canoes were already
in pursuit), saw him grip the rock with bleeding fingers. She saw