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Updated: May 29, 2025
And he swam to shallow water, not without great labor, towing Mrs. Kimbal by the hair. But here he picked her up in his arms, this time with no word spoken, and carried her ashore. Some moments passed. "Well," she said, laughing, "aren't you going to put me down?" "Oh!" said he, terribly confused, "I forgot. I was just casting an eye around for that horse. She's gone." "Never mind we'll walk."
That was the American River in flood. I had to cross it to get a doctor. We'd gone prospectin' just the old woman and me more for a lark than profit." "Yes?" said Mrs. Kimbal sympathetically. "She took sick in an hour," he went on. "From what I've heard since, I guess it was appendicitis.
"It'll be heavy going, wet as you are," said he. "I'll soon be dry in this air," she said. Saterlee managed to pull his boots on over his wet socks, and Mrs. Kimbal, having given him his wet coat from her neck, stooped and wrung as much water as she could from her clothes. It was now nearly dark, but they found the road and went on. "What time is it?" she asked.
Kimbal high in his arms, started for shore. The water rose above his waist, and kept rising. He halted, bracing himself against the current. "Ma'am," he said in a discouraged voice, "it's no use. I've just got to let you get wet. We've got to swim to make it." "All right," she said cheerfully. "Some folks," he said, "likes to go overboard sudden; some likes to go in by degrees."
"Then," said Saterlee, "let's put the hood down. In case we do capsize, we don't want to get caught under it." Saterlee on his side, and Mrs. Kimbal, not without exclamations of annoyance, on hers, broke the toggle-joints that held the dilapidated hood in place, and thrust it backward and down. At once the air seemed to circulate with greater freshness.
Kimbal rescued them, separated them, folded them neatly, and stowed them under the seat. Saterlee made no comment. He was thinking of the state of a shirt that he had had on since early morning, and was wondering how, with his elbows pressed very tightly to his sides, he could possibly manage to unlace his boots. He made one or two tentative efforts. But Mrs.
I lost my second horse in that flood, and had to foot it into camp. I was too late. Pain had made her unconscious, and she was dead. But before givin' in she'd wrote me a letter." He broke off short. "And there's Gila River," he said. "I hoped you were going to tell me what your poor wife said in her letter," said Mrs. Kimbal.
They could hear from far ahead a sound as of roaring waters. "That," said Saterlee dryly, "will be Gila River. Mebbe we'll have to think about getting across that first. It's a river now, by the sound of it, if it never was before." "Fortunately it's not dark yet," said Mrs. Kimbal. "The last time I had trouble with a river," said Saterlee, "was when my first wife died.
For some moments Saterlee considered the river, up-stream, down-stream, and across, knitting his brows to see better, for the light was failing by leaps and bounds. Then, in an embarrassed voice: "I've got to do it," he said. "It's only right." "What?" said Mrs. Kimbal. "I feel sure," he said, "that under the circumstances you'll make every allowance, Ma'am."
"It all depends," said Saterlee, "how deep the water runs over the road, and whether we can keep to the road. You see, it comes out higher up than it goes in. Can you swim, Ma'am?" Mrs. Kimbal admitted that, in clothes made to the purpose, and in very shallow water, she was not without proficiency. "Would you rather we turned back?" he asked. "I feel sure you'll get me over," said she.
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