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Updated: June 30, 2025
He was still partly dazed when he took up the paddle and dimly saw the white pines sliding past through a haze of snow. Nor did he remember whether he or Okanagan set the tent up when they reached the island near the canon, but he was sitting inside it holding out a smoking can of tea to Alton when some time after darkness had closed down Tom came in.
There was no need to tell the injured man that his welfare had appeared of more importance to his comrades than any profit that might accrue to them from the silver mine. "Well," he said simply, "you or Tom should get through to Somasco." "I hope so," said Seaforth, as Okanagan signed to him. "You see, we are all going there together by the shortest way, down the canon."
Seaforth did what he was bidden, and nothing more, for he had been reared in England, and not amidst the firs and snows of Northern Canada where misadventures are many and doctors very few, but he envied the big bushman his skill that day, and Okanagan may have guessed it, for he once smiled a little as he said: "There are lots of things I can't do, and it's not your fault that you were raised back in the old country, where you have other folks to put the patches on to you."
"The jumpers would have it drier, if they headed out from lower down the railroad over the bench country." Alton nodded as he listened to the roar of the river, which warned him that their road up the valley would be almost impassable. "It can't be helped," he said, and Tom of Okanagan, who saw how grim his face had grown, understood the reason.
"Hold her straight," cried Okanagan, in a breathless roar, and Seaforth just heard his voice through the diapason of the river. Then the canoe lurched beneath them, and sped faster still, plunging, rocking, rolling, while the froth beat into her, and Seaforth whirled his paddle in a frenzy. The shrinking had gone, and he was only conscious of a curious unreasoning exaltation.
"Hold up," said Okanagan. "Stream's running slow, and the hills are opening there. I'm not sure that we're not close on the Somasco valley." Seaforth made a last effort, but his fingers lost their grasp, and when he slipped forward again his paddle slid away behind them. Then he groaned a little, and lay still in the bottom of the canoe.
It was near dusk when Alton came back leading one weary horse, and darkness had closed down before Tom of Okanagan strode in with nothing but the pack-rope he had set out with. Seaforth had supper ready, and no questions were asked until they had eaten. Then Alton, stretching himself at full length beside the fire, lighted his pipe.
I'd ordered a box of Okanagan Valley apples, and a gramophone and a dozen opera records, and a brier-wood pipe and two pounds of English "Honey-Dew," and a smoking-jacket, and some new ties and socks and shirts, and a brand new Stetson, for Dinky-Dunk's old hat is almost a rag-bag. And then I was cleaned out every blessed cent gone!
The light that came down between towering trunks showed that his face was grey and stern, and Okanagan, who looked at him, nodded as it were approvingly. "I've seen enough," said the former. "If I can find that man he will not get away from me." "Well," said Okanagan simply, "we're short of the bullet now, and I'll know better what to do with Harry when we find it.
Four weary horses floundered in front of it, a thin white steam rising from them into the nipping air, and Okanagan swayed half asleep upon the driving-seat, growling inarticulate objurgations when the vehicle sank creaking into a hollow he could not see.
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