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There was just the river between him and safety, for Roger had heard themen speak of an Indian trail which paralleled the river on the southernside and whence he could reach one of the three trails that ascended theplateau, and not only safety, but the welfare of the party, which hefelt was intrusted to his care. The burro would not try the ford. Verywell, then, he would cross himself. On this side of that torrent,hunger, defeat, and death, on the other food, success, and reputation.Come what might, he would cross![Pg 130]
Roger looked up, and from the heights above him there floated down avociferous and fluent torrent of language, which, even at that distance,sounded strange and barbarous to the boy's ears. Using hisfield-glasses, moreover, he could distinguish a figure leaning over aledge some distance above, and by the long cue he could see it was aChinaman. The sight gave him great encouragement, for he knew that theparty he was following had with it a Chinese cook, named Ti Sing, wellknown in that region, and one of the most valued cooks in the Survey.
The letter of direction, moreover, was fairly pleasing, though couchedin the usual dry official terms. It was to the effect that he shouldjoin the topographical party under the leadership of Mr. Gates, presentpost-office address being Aragon, County Presidio, Texas, and that theparty was engaged in mapping the Shafter quadrangle. Borrowing a largeatlas, the boy promptly proceeded to look up Aragon and[Pg 196] Shafter, andfound, to his delight, that it was near the boundary line of Mexico.
It was the most fatiguing day Roger had yet spent on the Survey, noteven excepting the famous trip across the Grand Canyon, for in thelatter the pace had been his own, while in this he had to play an equalpart with exceptionally vigorous and seasoned men, coping with amountain torrent. The dusk was falling as, once more in boats, andpassing through a small gorge, the party reached the confluence of theJack and Cantwell Rivers. Although the distance traversed had been buttwenty-eight miles, and the party had been traveling with the current,so arduous[Pg 284] and rough had been the way that eleven hours had been spentin making the journey.
Just at the narrowest part, when it was difficult sometimes to avoid thepaddles striking the rock on the side, the torrent boiling through andboth men backing water, the canyon took a sharp turn to the right. Harrythrew her head round, but not far enough, for there, not fifteen feetaway from the angle of the bend, a black rock rose sheer from the water,with a spur sticking out, exactly like the spur of a fighting cock. Theboat could not clear, and though Roger got the bow by, the[Pg 293] currentcrushed the side of the canoe against the rock, and with a cry theIndian leaped for the spur.