we were being rolled
over------"

"Well, what would you do? I was occupied, as I said, with Tracker and
the horses, and half the time I couldn't tell 'em apart. But I saw Miss
Gray grab you by the hair and then she--you'll forgive her for it, I
hope--she struck you with her fist right in the face."

Bauer looked bewildered. "What did she do that for?"

"I thought maybe you would want to know. I would. Well, how could she
save you when your arms were thrashing around like a windmill and you
were liable to grab her arms and drown her and you, too. So she had to
strike you. I know she is waiting till you get a little stronger so she
can apologise."

"Apologise," murmured Bauer.

"Yes. It wasn't a ladylike thing to do in polite society. But there
wasn't time to ask your permission or tell you why it was necessary.
Well, after that little incident, Tracker and the horses and I got so
mixed up with each other that we haven't hardly got untangled since.
There was one time there when I wasn't quite certain whether I was a
horse or a wagon wheel. We drifted down here and it just seemed
providential and saved a lot of carrying when we finally got out right
here."

Clifford pointed to a spot down the stream a short ways from where they
were sitting.

"We saved the horses, cut the harness to bits off of 'em, but the wagon
went down and got sucked into the Black Bear quicksands and you can see
one of the wheels. See! over there."

Clifford stood up and Bauer in his excitement got up on the log to see
better. Far down the channel near the opposite bank, one wheel of the
teamster's wagon showed a little, the rest of the vehicle buried in the
treacherous sands.

"You and Miss Gray came ashore up above. Right there." Clifford pointed
to a great root of a tree that swayed out from an old stump six feet
above the channel. It protruded from the bank like some fantastic
sprawling arm.

"She grabbed that old root as you went whirling down and I guess it was
about time. We had quite a time pumping the water out of her and for one
while,--but it's lucky you have a good head of hair and that you hadn't
been to a barber lately. Miss Gray got a regular grip on it. We had
quite a time separating her fingers from your locks. You see, I'm
telling you because I thought maybe she might be a little timid about
the details. If she has to apologise for hitting you in the face, it
would be too bad to have to go on and ask to be excused for