make a fire and leave me while he went forward for
assistance, but I refused. "No," I said, "I'm going to make it to the
boat."

All that night this man of steel and lightning worked, never resting a
minute, doing the work of three men, helping me along the slopes, easing
me down the rocks, pulling me up cliffs, dashing water on me when I grew
faint with the pain; and always cheery, full of talk and anecdote,
cracking jokes with me, infusing me with his own indomitable spirit. He
was eyes, hands, feet, and heart to me--my caretaker, in whom I trusted
absolutely. My eyes brim with tears even now when I think of his utter
self-abandon as he ministered to my infirmities.

About four o'clock in the morning we came to a fall that we could not
compass, sheer a hundred feet or more. So we had to attack the steep
walls of the canyon. After a hard struggle we were on the mountain
ridges again, traversing the flower pastures, creeping through openings
in the brush, scrambling over the dwarf fir, then down through the
fallen timber. It was half-past seven o'clock when we descended the last
slope and found the path to Glenora. Here we met a straggling party of
whites and Indians just starting out to search the mountain for us.

As I was coming wearily up the teetering gang-plank, feeling as if I
couldn't keep up another minute, Dr. Kendall stepped upon its end,
barring my passage, bent his bushy white brows upon me from his six feet
of height, and began to scold:

"See here, young man; give an account of yourself. Do you know you've
kept us waiting----"

Just then Captain Lane jumped forward to help me, digging the old Doctor
of Divinity with his elbow in the stomach and nearly knocking him off
the boat.

"Oh, hell!" he roared. "Can't you see the man's hurt?"

Mrs. Kendall was a very tall, thin, severe-looking old lady, with face
lined with grief by the loss of her children. She never smiled. She had
not gone to bed at all that night, but walked the deck and would not let
her husband or the others sleep. Soon after daylight she began to lash
the men with the whip of her tongue for their "cowardice and inhumanity"
in not starting at once to search for me.

"Mr. Young is undoubtedly lying mangled at the foot of a cliff, or else
one of those terrible bears has wounded him; and you are lolling around
here instead of starting to his rescue. For shame!"

When they objected that they did not know where we had gone, she
snapped: