useless. Then he
remembered a saying of August Naab that the Navajos did not attempt
to swim the river when it was in flood and full of sand. He ceased to
struggle, and drifting with the current, soon was close to Silvermane,
and grasped a saddle strap.

"Not there!" called Mescal. "He might strike you. Hang to his tail!"

Hare dropped behind, and catching Silvermane's tail held on firmly.
The stallion towed him easily. The waves dashed over him and lapped at
Mescal's waist. The current grew stronger, sweeping Silvermane down out
of line with the black wall which had frowned closer and closer. Mescal
lifted the rifle, and resting the stock on the saddle, held it upright.
The roar of the rapids seemed to lose its volume, and presently it died
in the splashing and slapping of broken water closer at hand. Mescal
turned to him with bright eyes; curving her hand about her lips she
shouted:

"Can't make the bar! We've got to go through this side of the rapids.
Hang on!"

In the swelling did Hare felt the resistless pull of the current. As
he held on with both hands, hard pressed to keep his grasp, Silvermane
dipped over a low fall in the river. Then Hare was riding the rushing
water of an incline. It ended below in a red-crested wave, and beyond
was a chaos of curling breakers. Hare had one glimpse of Mescal
crouching low, shoulders narrowed and head bent; then, with one white
flash of the stallion's mane against her flying black hair, she went out
of sight in leaping waves and spray. Hare was thrown forward into the
backlash of the wave. The shock blinded him, stunned him, almost tore
his arms from his body, but his hands were so twisted in Silvermane's
tail that even this could not loosen them. The current threw him from
wave to wave. He was dragged through a caldron, blind from stinging
blows, deaf from the tremendous roar. Then the fierce contention of
waves lessened, the threshing of crosscurrents straightened, and he
could breathe once more. Silvermane dragged him steadily; and, finally,
his feet touched the ground. He could scarcely see, so full were his
eyes of the sandy water, but he made out Mescal rising from the river on
Silvermane, as with loud snorts he climbed to a bar. Hare staggered up
and fell on the sand.

"Jack, are you all right?" inquired Mescal.

"All right, only pounded out of breath, and my eyes are full of sand.
How about you?"

"I don't think I ever was any wetter," replied Mescal, laughin