thing, the best years of my life, to undo that leap. There,
where my foot had struck, left with some filled baskets in the lee of the
log, lay a small papoose."

Tisdale's voice vibrated softly and stopped, while his glance moved from
face to face. He held the rapt attention of every one, and in the pause
the water along the keel played a minor interlude. Behind the awning a
different sound broke faintly. It was like the rustle of paper; a turned
page.

"The baby was bound to the usual-shaped board," Hollis went on, "with a
woven pocket for the feet and a broad carrying-strap to fit the head of
the mother. I sat down and lifted the little fellow to my knees. I wore
heavy shoes, studded with nails for mountain climbing, and the mark of my
heel was stamped, cruelly, on the small brown cheek; the rim had crushed
the temple."

Tisdale halted again, and in the silence Elizabeth sighed. Then, "I'll bet
you didn't waste any time in that place," exclaimed Morganstein.

"The eyes were closed," resumed Tisdale gently. "I saw the blow had taken
him in his sleep, but the wantonness, the misery of it, turned me cold.
Then, you are right, I was seized with a panic to get away. I laid the
papoose back in the place where I had found him and left my string of
fish, a poor tribute, with what money I had about me, and hurried down
into the bed of the brook.

"The squaws were several days' travel from the reservation, but I
remembered we had passed a small encampment a few miles down the river and
another near the mouth of the Dosewallups, where a couple of Indians were
fishing from canoes. I knew they would patrol the stream as soon as the
alarm was given, and my only chance was to make a wide detour, avoiding my
camp where they would first look for me, swim the river, and push through
the forest, around that steep, pyramid peak to the next canyon. You see
it?--The Duckabush cuts through there to tide water. I left no trail in
crossing the stony bed of the brook, and took advantage of a low basalt
bluff in climbing the farther bank. It was while I was working my way over
the rock into cover of the trees that the pleasant calling on the ridge
behind me changed to the first terrible cry. The mother had found her dead
baby.

"Twilight was on me when I stopped at last on the river bank to take off
my shoes. I rolled them with my coat in a snug pack, which I secured with
a length of fish-line to my shoulders before I plunged in. The curr