, and his white hair hung, stained and
bedraggled, over his face. The Indian and the Mormon, grim, hard, worn,
stood silent at the oar.

The afternoon was far advanced and the sun had already descended below
the western ramparts. A cool breeze blew up the canyon, laden with a
sound that was the same, yet not the same, as those low, dull roars
which Shefford dreaded more and more.

Joe Lake turned his ear to the breeze. A stronger puff brought a heavy,
quivering rumble. This time he did not vent his gay and wild defiance to
the river. He bent lower--listened. Then as the rumble became a strange,
deep, reverberating roll, as if the monstrous river were rolling huge
stones down a subterranean canyon, Shefford saw with dilating eyes that
the Mormon's hair was rising stiff upon his head.

"Hear that!" said Joe, turning an ashen face to Shefford. "We'll
drop off the earth now. Hang on to the girl, so if we go you can go
together.... And, pard, if you've a God--pray!"

Nas Ta Bega faced the bend from whence that rumble came, and he was the
same dark, inscrutable, impassive Indian as of old. What was death to
him?

Shefford felt the strong, rushing love of life surge in him, and it was
not for himself he thought, but for Fay and the happiness she merited.
He went to her, patted the covered head, and tried with words choking in
his throat to give hope. And he leaned with hands gripping the gunwale,
with eyes wide open, ready for the unknown.

The river made a quick turn and from round the bend rumbled a terrible
uproar. The current racing that way was divided or uncertain, and it
gave strange motion to the boat. Joe and Nas Ta Bega shoved desperately
upon the oar, all to no purpose. The currents had their will. The bow of
the boat took the place of the stern. Then swift at the head of a curved
incline it shot beyond the bulging wall.

And Shefford saw an awful place before them. The canyon had narrowed to
half its width, and turned almost at right angles. The huge clamor of
appalling sound came from under the cliff where the swollen river had to
pass and where there was not space. The rapid rushed in gigantic swells
right upon the wall, boomed against it, climbed and spread and fell
away, to recede and gather new impetus, to leap madly on down the
canyon.

Shefford went to his knees, clasped Fay, and Jane, too. But facing this
appalling thing he had to look. Courage and despair came to him at the
last. This must be the