The time passed pleasantly to Stephen as he reclined on a heap of skins and blankets watching the forests that bordered the stream, or looking up through the overhanging canopy at the birds and monkeys, the latter of which afforded him great amusement by the way in which they chattered and gesticulated.  The mothers with the little ones climbed to the top of the trees, while the males came boldly out on the lower branches to bid defiance to those in the boat.  Often he slept, for the heat, and the almost noiseless fall of the paddles, and the tranquil easy motion of the canoe made him exceptionally drowsy.  One day his eye fell upon something on a large branch of a tree that bent down to within twelve feet of the water.  It was only some ten yards ahead when he noticed it.  It was partly hidden by foliage, and for a moment it seemed to him to be a thickening of the branch.  He would have passed it without a thought had it not been for a slight movement; then a glance showed him that it was an animal of some kind lying almost flattened upon the tree.

He caught up his rifle just as it rose to a crouching attitude, and was upon the point of springing upon Pita.  The gun was loaded with shot only, but as he threw up the muzzle and fired almost instantly, the beast gave a terrible roar.  Its spring was arrested, and it fell headlong into the water within a foot of the side of the boat.  A tawny head, with two rows of big white teeth, arose from the water almost abreast of him, and a great paw was raised to strike at the boat, but Hurka’s rifle cracked out, and the animal sank again below the water.

“You have saved my life, senor,” Pita said gravely.  “It was a jaguar, and had you not fired it would have struck me down and crushed in my skull with a blow of its paw.  I wonder I did not see it, but I was thinking at the time that we had best tie up for an hour or two so as to pass the next village, which is a large one, after dark.”

“It was almost hidden among those leaves,” Stephen said, “and had it not moved I should not have noticed it.”

“I think you blinded it, senor,” Hurka said.  “I saw it rise to spring, and snatched at my rifle just as you fired.  I think the charge struck it between the eyes, for I saw a sort of blur there just as it fell.  I should have been too late; for though I might have hit it as it was in the air, it would assuredly have come down on Pita.

“It was not like you, Pita.  This comes of thinking while you are paddling instead of keeping your eyes on everything.”

“I was wrong,” the Indian replied.  “I should have known that an attack by a jaguar was always possible; but this is the first that we have seen since starting, and I had no thought of danger in my mind.  I will be more careful in the future.  It must have been well hidden, for you did not see it yourself, Hurka, until it moved for its spring.”

“That is true,” the little Indian replied.  “The Englishman’s eyes must be quick indeed, and his nerve steady.  It was seeing him catch up his gun that first called my attention to it.  You have laid us both under a great obligation, senor, for Pita is my best friend, and were aught to befall him I should feel that I had lost part of myself.  Perhaps before the journey comes to an end we may be able to show you how grateful we are.”

“It is nothing worth talking about,” Stephen said.  “In a journey like this, comrades may well save each other’s lives more than once.”

“That is true, senor; but it is our duty to save your life if need be, and it is turning the tables upon us for you to be the means of saving ours.  However, you will not find us lacking when the time comes.  Already we have agreed that this time of all others we must carry our business through successfully.  You are not like those Spaniards.  To them we are Indian dogs, mere dust under their feet, a people whose services they buy as they buy those of our mules; but you have treated us as if we had been comrades of the same colour as you yourself, have insisted upon our eating with you, and have talked with us as if we were friends together; and you will find that it is so if danger arises.  We Indians are not accustomed to kindness or consideration from our Spanish masters.  Could they do without us they would not suffer an Indian to exist in the land; but they need our labour, and so bear with us.  But we, on our part, never forget that our ancestors were lords of this country, that they received these white strangers with kindness, and were repaid by the grossest treachery and ingratitude, and that, not contented with seizing our land and our possessions, they murdered all our princes and leaders, and reduced all whom they did not slay to slavery, keeping us only that we might work the mines and till the fields for them.

“Centuries have passed since then, but there has been no change; they are still our masters, we their beasts of burden.  They may pay us for our services, but they have no thought or consideration for us.  We may risk our lives for them, but they value ours no more than if we were dogs.  Save among the muleteers, like Gomez, who long ago ceased to be Spaniards, and are now Peruvians, they look upon us as a conquered race, and as to friendship or a kindly thought for an Indian, they think more of their dogs than they do of us.  Therefore, senor, you may guess that Pita and I do not feel towards you only as a master who pays us, but as one who has treated us as if we were the same colour as himself, and even the service you have rendered Pita binds us less to you than the kindness that you have shown us.  If all Englishmen are like you it would be a blessing indeed to this country if, after your famous admiral had driven out the Spaniards, he would himself reign over the land and bring some of his people here to govern us.

“The white Peruvians are no better than the Spaniards.  They are the same blood, and have the same ideas, and save that they are cowards, while the Spaniards, to do them justice, are often brave, there is little to choose between them.  They are as proud of their white blood, and they despise us as heartily; they are as greedy of gold, but too indolent to work for it; and when the Spaniards have gone they will be despots as hard and as tyrannical as our present governors.  We hope for the change, though we know well that it will do but little for us; while, if the people of your race came as masters of the land, we might have some share of freedom and happiness.  Tales have reached even us that across the western ocean you rule over a people dark like ourselves, but infinitely more numerous than we were when the Spaniards first set foot here; and that your rule is a good and just one, and that the natives are happy and contented, and that there are the same laws for them as for us.  Do you think, senor, that there is any chance of your admiral and your people coming here?”

“I am afraid not, Hurka.  We English here are in the service of Chili.  We are free ourselves, and our sympathies are with all men who are struggling to be free; but we have no idea of conquest here, and were Peru to offer to come under our rule we should not accept it.  We have already wide possessions in North America and elsewhere, and need no further territories, especially in a climate that is unfitted for us.  We might rule it as we do India, but the Peruvians would never be contented, and we should never attempt to keep them in subjection did they wish us gone.  India, the country you speak of, is inhabited by many races and religions.  Before we went, there were incessant wars, and were we to leave they would at once recommence.  The people, then, feel that our rule is a real benefit, and that they are far happier under it than they were under their native rulers.  When we went there we had no thought of conquering it; we only went there to trade.  It was because we were attacked that we defended ourselves, and there are still portions of the country that are altogether independent, and so long as the native sovereigns leave us alone we are well contented that things should remain as they are.  We do not enrich ourselves at the expense of the natives.  They have to pay taxes to keep up the expenses of the army and administration there, but England draws no revenue from India.  It does not, as Spain did, enrich itself with the plunder of the land; and it is free to people of all nations to trade there as we do ourselves.  Individuals may gain wealth there by commerce, or by the growth of indigo and other things that we cannot raise at home, but as a nation we obtain no revenue whatever from India.  The army there is for the most part raised from the people, who are free to enlist or not as they please, and who fight as faithfully for us as they would have done for their own rulers.”

“Then what do you gain by being there?” Hurka asked.

“We gain in the trade that is carried on by our merchants selling English goods there, and buying Indian produce.  The army and the civil government furnish employment to large numbers of Englishmen.  These are the only material advantages that, so far as I know, we gain; although of course it is a matter of pride and satisfaction to Englishmen that they rule over so great a country, and that our presence there is of enormous advantage to the people.”

“And are there no gold or silver mines there?” Pita asked.

“No; at any rate nothing that has been worked since we went there.”

“Ah, if you would but come here,” Hurka exclaimed, “what a blessing it would be to us! and I am sure that the Indians, when they knew that they would be fairly treated, would no longer preserve the secrets of the Incas, but would gladly open to you mines that have been hidden ever since the Spaniards came, and hand over vast treasures that have been left untouched all these years.  They are useless to them, and are hidden only because they hate the Spaniards, and know that did they discover these mines they would compel the people to work at them as their fathers did; and ere long we should disappear altogether.”

While they had been talking they had floated quietly down the stream, and Pita said that they were now but a few miles from the next village, and had better tie up until darkness came on.

“Have you any desire for gold, senor?” Hurka asked, after they had secured the canoe to an overhanging branch, and the two Indians had rolled and lighted their cigarettes.

“Not particularly, Hurka.  I suppose everyone would like gold; but I have already enough to live upon, having been very fortunate in aiding to capture a vessel carrying a large sum for the payment of the Spanish troops.  If I were to search for gold it would be rather for the sake of the adventure than for the treasure.”

“You are the first white man I have ever met, senor, who would not undertake any risk in order to gain a fortune, and the richest are as ready to adventure their gold in any enterprise that promises even a chance of success, as the poorest are willing to risk their lives.”

“The adventure itself would be very exciting,” Stephen said, “and I do not say that I should not like to take part in one, just as I am glad to have the chance of such an adventure as going down the Amazon; but it would certainly be the excitement, and not the chance of making money, that would attract me.  I don’t say for a moment that I should refuse a share in the treasure, only that I would not run any great risks for the sake of the treasure alone.  I suppose that every one could do with more than he has; for even if you have nothing to wish for, it would at least be a pleasure to give it away.

“I have been fortunate; although I am still very young.  I have been through a great many adventures, and if I were to settle quietly down at home now, I have more to look back upon than most men.”

Day after day they floated down, sometimes on a broad tranquil sheet with a scarce perceptible current, and at others in a rapid headlong stream pent up between narrow banks.  The volume of water had vastly increased since they started, owing to the number of streams that had flowed into the Beni, some of these being so large that they would be considered good-sized rivers in Europe.  At last, a month after starting, Hurka said that next day they would reach the confluence of the Beni and the Madeira.

“There is a mission-station there, and if the senor likes to pause there for a day or two before descending the river he can do so.”

“Not at all, Hurka.  In the first place I shall be asked a great many questions which would be difficult to answer, and in the second, even two days in a mission-station would be frightfully dull.”

“Very well, senor, then we will pass straight into the river and halt a few hours’ journey further down.”

“Why should we halt at all?”

“We shall want to construct a raft, senor.  There are many dangerous rapids in the Madeira besides the falls, and the river is beginning to rise.  You were noticing yesterday how thick the water had become, and some of the streams that run into it are laden with mud.  That shows that the rain has begun on the western slopes.  The Madeira is generally in flood two days before the Beni, and the water will be running down in a great stream; therefore it will be necessary to make our raft.  We need not desert the canoe, but can let it float alongside of us, or we can haul it on to the raft; it will be convenient for sleeping in.”

“We had better land at once and make our raft,” Pita said, “before we reach the Madeira.  I know of no high bank for a very long distance after we have entered the great river where we could manage it.”

“Then by all means let us do so at once,” Stephen said, “and perhaps we may get some sport.”

Accordingly the boat was headed towards shore.  When they reached the side they found that the Beni itself had risen, and the bank, usually seven or eight feet out of water, was now little more than a foot above its level.

“You may get some birds,” Hurka said, “but nothing else.  The instinct of the beasts tells them that the river is nearly full, and doubtless indeed the low-lying parts of the forest are already submerged.  They will be off before this, and will travel on till they come to ground that is always above the floods.  Some will, doubtless, be caught and perish.  Such as climb will take to trees, but hunger will destroy them.”

“How far do the floods extend?”

“In some places a hundred miles, and on the Amazon itself, as I have heard, a great deal further.”

They paddled along close to the bank until they reached a spot where it was bordered by a vast number of reeds, many of them as thick as Stephen’s arm.

“Now we are going to make our raft,” Hurka said.  “These reeds are far better than solid branches.  They are very light, and we fasten them but loosely together, so that they can give to the water.  When we have made it, we shall then want four young saplings.  These we shall lash together firmly in a square, and under each corner we fasten the skins, and one also in the middle of each pole; you know we have brought eight with us.  First we make the raft itself with the rushes.  It is made about four feet larger each way than the frame with the skins.  This frame is laid in the raft, and is fastened loosely to it.  Thus you see the raft itself is complete without the poles and skins, which, so long as it holds together, simply rest on it, but if the raft gets broken up the skins will support the poles.  We generally lash a few cross poles to the frame, and on these we sit, for the water splashes up between the reeds, making everything wet.  As we are going to take our canoe with us, we shall not want the cross poles, but shall lay her on the reeds and get on board her.  We shall pick out the largest reeds we can get to place under the spot where she will lie, and shall only get out of the boat when it is necessary to go to the front or sides of the raft to pole her off from any floating tree or other danger.”

It took them two days to complete the raft, the second day’s work being carried on afloat, for the stream rose very rapidly.  The lashings of the reeds were of leather thongs, so tied that while they were held firmly in their places there was a great deal of play, an advantage that Stephen discovered as soon as they were afloat again on the stream.  The rapidity with which the river was running raised it in a series of sharp waves, and a rigid raft would have had one end or the other constantly immersed.  The raft, however, undulated with the water almost as a carpet of the same size would have done, the lashings of the buoyant reeds permitting each side to rise and fall, while the structure upon it lifted or fell with the motion.  The canoe half floated and was half supported by the raft below it, and Stephen was surprised to find how slight the motion was even in the broken water.  Presently the two Indians left the canoe, and seating themselves on the poles, paddled towards the shore to the left, and getting out of the current made their way along the edge of the forest.

“We are close now,” Hurka said, “to the Madeira, and the struggle of the two swollen rivers will raise a turmoil so great that even this raft might break up in the waves.”

This Stephen could well believe when the canoe reached the angle where the rivers joined.  The width was nearly two miles, and the scene presented the appearance of the sea in a violent gale, except that it was a chaos without order or regularity.  The cross currents seemed to crash against each other, hurling the spray many yards in the air.  Waves leapt up in conical form as if lifted bodily from below.  The position of the centre of the stream changed continually as one current or the other gained the mastery.  Here and there were whirlpools and eddies that would have engulfed an ordinary boat in a moment.  The whole was white with foam.

“It is like a huge boiling pot,” Stephen said as he watched it.

“No boat ever made could live in it,” Hurka said.  “I have seen boats on the great waves that break on the coast, but there was an order in the waves, and those skilled in the work could wait their opportunity and come in on the top of one of them.  Here all is confusion, and a boat would be thrown into the air by one of those suddenly rising lumps of water, and if caught between two of the waves would be crushed like a shell.  No one would think of descending the river when the Beni and the Madeira are in flood, except by doing as we are doing now, keeping in the dead-water, or, if in canoes, making their way through the submerged forests.  But even this would be hazardous work, for the canoe might be torn by unseen boughs below the surface of the water.  Therefore at times like these, most men wait until the floods have abated, unless they are in a great hurry, and this is seldom, for neither Indians nor Peruvians are ever in haste about anything.

“The greatest danger to inexperienced travellers is that of being lost in the forest.  Many streams come in, and when the water is very high it is difficult to know whether one is crossing a tract denuded of wood or one of the many channels of the river; and once lost in the forest a traveller’s fate is sealed, for the current there is insufficient to enable him to judge in which direction is the main river, for he may be in a back eddy or in the current from a cross channel.  The trees are so interlaced with creepers that every foot of the way has to be cut, while among the foliage are snakes of all kinds, from the great boas to the little tree snakes, a bite from which causes death in a few minutes.  There too are starving jaguars, leopards, and wild cats, who, once they get over the terror caused by the inundation, are all on the look-out for food.  Amidst all these enemies the inexperienced traveller speedily loses his presence of mind and even his reason.

“Once when I was going down this very river we heard a noise of wild laughter, intermingled with strange piercing cries.  We knew at once that it was a traveller lost in the forest.  It took us two hours to cut our way to the spot where we heard the sounds.  We guessed who were the sufferers.  Two Spaniards had hired a large canoe, and had taken with them six village boatmen.  They had refused my offer to go with four men of my tribe who were accustomed to the river and its dangers, as we demanded a much higher sum than the villagers were ready to go for, and we said when we saw them put off that they would never get down to the mission.  When we reached the spot one man was lying dead at the bottom of the canoe.  One of the Spaniards and one of the villagers were missing, having no doubt leapt overboard in their madness.  The others were all raving madmen, some with scarce strength to raise themselves in the boat, others making the dreadful laughing and screaming that we had heard.

“When they saw us they took us, I believe, for devils, and it was not until we had lassoed the strongest that we were able to overpower them.  We bound them and laid them at the bottom of our canoe and took them down to the mission, which was some fifty miles below us.  I was told afterwards that only one of them ever recovered his senses; the others either died raving or were hopelessly mad.  From the one who recovered it was learned that as soon as they came to the point where the stream became rapid they made for the edge of the forest.  At night they tied up their canoe to a tree, but in the morning when they awoke they found that the line had become untied, and that they had drifted into the forest.  There they had been three days when we found them.  They had lost all idea of direction, and had we been a few hours later the last voice would have been silenced, and when the flood subsided the canoe and its occupants would have rotted away, and no one would ever have known the fate that had befallen them.”

“How do you find your way through a flooded forest, Hurka?”

“It is born in us as it is born in birds to make their way back to their nests.  It may be that a careful examination would show that the trunks on one side are more thickly covered with creepers than the other; but we do not need to take notice of such things, or if we notice them it is without knowing it, as we are sure of our direction.  We have seen Spanish travellers who had the things with which they said they could direct their course at sea, with a card that goes round and round, and always when it is steady points in one direction.  This is no doubt very useful out on the plains or in a forest where there are no obstacles, but here where the woods are intercepted by numberless streams and with wide swamps, such a machine is useless to any one unless he is intimately acquainted with the country and the course of the streams.  Even Indian dwellers on the shores of the river often, in the times of floods, get lost in the forest and lose their lives, so changed is the aspect of everything by the water.”

“It must be terrible,” Stephen said, as he glanced between the trunks of the trees at the still, dark water under the thick canopy.  “Of course the sun must be a help.”

“We do not often see the sun in times of flood, senor.  Rain often falls very heavily, and even when it does not do so there is, you see, a mist in the air rising from this vast expanse of water.  Besides, it is only when it is directly overhead that the sun’s rays penetrate the foliage, and at that time it is too high for the shadows to afford much guidance.  Among us, three shots of a gun at regular intervals is a call for aid, but in flood time it is a useless one, for the Indians, like the wild beasts, all leave, save when their huts are on éminences, and the chances of the shots being heard by human ears are small indeed.  To one lost in the forest at other times it is all but certain death, but when the floods are out a man would do wisely to fire the first shot into his own head.”

Day after day they travelled on, keeping just far enough out to get the benefit of the current without allowing themselves to be drawn towards the centre of the river.  Even this at times was very difficult, especially when they were passing round curves, for much of the water, instead of following the channel, made its way through the forest to the next bend in the river, and they had the greatest difficulty in preventing themselves from being drawn in among the trees by the current.  At such times they were forced to launch the canoe overboard, to roll up the bottom of the raft, and to lay the great bundle of rushes across the poles now supported by the inflated skins.  Only then by vigorous paddling, in which Stephen bore his part, were they able to tow this behind them across the current until they reached a point where the force of the stream was confined to the regular channel.  At one point, where the river was broader than usual and the current in consequence slower, they crossed to the other bank.

“We are getting near the rapids now,” Hurka said, “and this bank is the least dangerous of the two.  Hitherto we have had nothing but the force of the stream to contend with, but now we shall have rocks.  It is for this that we constructed the raft.  Up to now we should have done far better to have come down in the canoe alone, but, once among the rocks, a touch would break her up, while the raft can scrape against them without injury.  You will see that the aspect of things will change altogether; the banks where the rapids are, are high and steep, and the inundations will cease for a time.  Once beyond the falls we shall again be in a flat country, and the inundations will extend almost all the way down until we reach the Amazon.”

“There is no way of avoiding the rapids, I suppose?” Stephen asked.

“None but by getting out and carrying everything round.  At the falls this has to be done, there are no other means of passing them.  In some respects it is safer to go down the rapids now than it is in the dry season, for the greater portion of the rocks are far below the surface, and we shall pass over small falls without even noticing them.”

The days as a rule passed pleasantly enough, save where the voyagers had to work against cross currents, but at night, when they tied up to a tree, the noise was prodigious.  The howling and roaring of wild beasts was incessant.  Monkeys chattered in terror, and occasionally an almost human scream proclaimed that one of them had been seized by a snake, or some other enemy.  The hissing of reptiles could at times be distinctly heard, and Stephen often thought that he could hear their movements in the boughs above him.

At length they approached the rapids, and the stream became still more impetuous.  The Indians had cut long poles, and as they drifted down one stood at each corner of the raft, using their poles occasionally as paddles to keep it straight.  Stephen remained in the canoe in the centre.  He would gladly have shared in any work that was to be done, but here he felt that he could be of no use.

“To-morrow we shall be in the full force of the rapids, senor,” Hurka said.  “I should advise you to lay yourself down in the bottom of the canoe and to pass the day in sleep.  It will be safer so should there be an accident, for, with your weight at the bottom, the canoe will be more likely to keep upright than it otherwise would.  You cannot aid us, and the speed at which we shall do the next hundred miles will be great indeed.  In eight hours we shall be at the foot of the rapids.”

“I will sit down at the bottom of the canoe, but I must see what is going on.  I am accustomed to the aspect of a sea in a violent gale, and this great body of water, however fast it rushes, will not be more trying to the nerves than such a scene as that.  There is one thing that I should wish you to do.  Let each tie a light rope round his waist and fasten the other end to the canoe, and then if the raft does go to pieces you will be able to get on board, and at any rate, if she upsets we shall be together.”

“We will do it if you wish, senor, but there would be danger of our capsizing the canoe.”

“Not so much danger as there would be of the canoe upsetting if I were alone in it, for I should be powerless even to keep her straight, and she would go broadside on to a rock and be dashed to pieces.”

“The senor is right, Hurka,” Pita said gravely; “we will do as he wishes.  But the ropes must be long, so that if we are flung off the raft there will be no sudden pull on the canoe.  Should there be such a misfortune I will shout to you, and we will then swim towards the boat, taking up the ropes as we go, but putting no strain upon them; when we reach the boat, one will aid the senor to steady it while the other climbs in; after that it will be easier to get the second on board.”

“You still think that it is better to make a passage than to carry the whole kit and the canoe over?”

“It would take many weeks, senor.  Besides, though I have never been here before, I have heard that the difficulties are so great that the river Indians never attempt to carry even a light canoe over.  I am at your service, senor, and am willing to try if you give the order, but I have been told by Indians that when the river is, as now, in flood, the danger is by no means great.  Of course, we shall keep out of the full strength of the current.”

Accordingly they started the next morning, and an hour after setting out were in the sweep of the rapids.  The passage was an intensely exciting one.  The Indians stood, paddle in hand, one at each corner of the front of the raft; their poles lay ready to snatch up in case any rock was approached, but the paddles were needed to keep the raft from being dragged out into the full force of the current.  Here the water rose in steep ridges, and had the raft got among these it would have been torn to pieces almost instantly.  At the same time it was desirable not to go too near the shore, as the risk from submerged rocks would be greater there.  But Stephen saw that unless rocks came absolutely above the surface they would be swept over them, as the raft drew but two or three inches of water.  Except in the middle, the stream rushed along with a surface broken only by tiny eddies.  It was only by seeing how they flew past the banks that any idea could be formed of the speed at which they were travelling.

In eight hours it was over.  Several times the paddlers had to exert themselves to the utmost to avoid spots where great swells of water showed that there were rocks below the surface, but on no occasion did the Indians have to use their poles.  The bed of the river widened sharply at the foot of the rapids, and just as Stephen congratulated himself that the passage had been safely made, he saw by an increase in the labour of the Indians that something was wrong.  Standing up in the canoe he perceived that they had been shot out of the current into the back-water formed by the sudden widening of the stream, and that in this back-water was a very strong eddy sweeping round and round in a circle.  This was about a hundred yards in diameter, with a depression in the centre, and round this the raft was carried at a rate that defied the efforts of the two paddlers to check.

At one moment they were within twenty yards of a flat forest-covered shore, and the next were near the edge of the torrent pouring down the rapids.  In vain the paddlers tried to edge the raft out little by little from the whirlpool.  Not only was the current too strong for them, but its surface was dotted with floating logs and branches of trees that, like themselves, coursed round and round.  As long as all were travelling at the same rate and in the same direction the danger of a collision was comparatively slight, but more than once when the rowers succeeded in gaining a short distance towards the outside edge of the whirlpool, they were forced to desist suddenly and paddle straight with the current, to avoid a great log bearing down upon them.

Pita took a lariat from the canoe and prepared to throw it, so as to catch one of the branches when they neared the shore.  He tried several times, but the distance was too great; and indeed it was necessary to catch the trees at some little distance before reaching the point opposite to them, in order to pull diagonally across the current, for a jerk when the canoe was at right angles would have torn the raft to pieces.

“Could we launch the canoe and paddle out of the whirlpool in that?” Stephen said.

“We might do that,” Hurka replied, “but a touch from any of these logs would sink her in a moment; and besides, we should be sorry to lose the raft, for we have no skins to make floats, and the rushes of which we constructed it only grow in the quiet waters of the upper river.  We might take to the canoe as a last resource, but we should be very loth to do it.”

“How long would the lariats be, tied together, with that piece of thin rope you brought to check the raft in dangerous places?”

“The rope is a hundred and fifty yards long, senor, the lariats reach about thirty yards.”

“That would be plenty,” Stephen said.  “My idea is that you might fasten the end of the rope to an arrow and shoot it among the trees.  It might not catch the first time, but no doubt it would after a few trials.  The rope will, of course, be coiled up so as to pay out easily, and we could pull it in or pay it out as we went round and round.  Each time as we approach the shore, we could pull on it a little and edge the raft a few feet out, slackening out again as we came to the nearest point to the trees.  If there were any logs in our way of course we should not pull; thus, by choosing our opportunity, we might get her out little by little till we are outside the full force of the stream.”

The Indians did not quite understand Stephen’s plan, but at once agreed to try it.  Pita chose his heaviest arrow and lashed the end of the rope firmly to it, close to the feathers.  Stephen knotted the lariats to the rope, and coiled them up so that they would run out easily, and they then prepared for the first attempt.