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286 heels over head in the swirling waters. In their rapid passage down the stream, the Indian's head had struck fairly and squarely on a jagged rock just below the surface. The fearful impact of the blow had crushed in the warrior's skull like an eggshell, and instantly his hold relaxed, and in a moment more the body passed from sight.

The shock threw Dave on another rock, rising less than a foot above the surface of the stream. Amid the foam and spray he felt the edge of the stone and by instinct more than reason he clutched at it wildly and held fast. Then, as he recovered his breath, he drew himself up until his head and his back were out of the water. His feet swung around with the current and there he remained, with the water tugging strongly to drag him down from his temporary place of safety.

He was in this position when discovered by the sharp eyes of Henry and Sam Barringford, and with all possible speed they ran down to the bit of shore which stuck out to within thirty feet of Dave's resting place.

"Dave! Dave!" called Henry. "Are you all right?"

"Henry! Help me! I—I can't stand th—this strain much longer," was the answer, delivered with a jerk and a gasp.