as that several bones had not
been broken.

"Where's my rifle?" suddenly asked Victor, looking about him.

"In the bottom of the canyon, I reckon."

"Mebbe you'd like to make a dive for it," suggested the man.

"No, I've had enough of that. How shall I thank you for what you have
done?"

"By not saying anything about it. By a piece of good luck I happened to
be on the spot in time to give you a lift."

The boys now looked more closely at the Good Samaritan. He was attired
in the dress common among the trappers and hunters of the Northwest in
those days, and was a magnificent specimen of physical manhood, being
fully six feet in height, with a broad, massive frame and an immense
grizzled beard, which flowed over his chest and covered his face almost
to the eyes. He had laid down his long, formidable rifle when he
hurried to the rescue of the boy, and he now stooped and picked up the
weapon. Moving back a few paces, so as to get beyond the noise made by
the rushing waters, he said, in his gruff but not unpleasant voice:

"Tell me how this thing happened."

George briefly gave the particulars of the mishap, to which the man
silently listened.

"You ain't the only younker or man either who has lost all by a little
slip. The next time you want to make a big jump be sure of your
footing. What are you two chaps doing in this part of the world?"

"We have been across the continent, almost to the Pacific, and are now
on the way to our home in Ohio."

"You ain't traveling alone, are you?"

"No; we have a companion, who is off somewhere in the mountains, but
will soon join us in camp."

"'Pears to me you've been on a powerful long tramp."

"We have. We spent last winter among the Blackfeet, and are homesick."

"I reckon your camp ain't fur off, and we may as well go there."

"We shall be glad to have you with us, for you have proved the best of
friends."

"Thar! Thar! Drop that; talk about something else."

When Victor tried to walk he had to lean on the shoulder of his
brother, and the pain from his bruises compelled him at times to stop
and rest. The burly trapper offered to help, but Victor thanked him and
got on quite well with the assistance of George. The man walked a few
paces behind the two, that he might not hurry them too much, and
because it belonged to the boys to act as guide.

"Who is the man you've got with you?"

"He is a young Shawanoe Indian named Deerfoot," replied George Shelton.

"Wh