rapids.  I ran my own canoe near shore and got by the rapid safely, waiting for the others to come also.  They did not obey my signals but thought to run the rapid the same as I did.  The channel here was straight for 200 yards, without a boulder in it, but the stream was so swift that it caused great, rolling waves in the center, of a kind I have never seen anywhere else.  The boys were not skillful enough to navigate this stream, and the suction drew them to the center where the great waves rolled them over and over, bottom side up and every way.  The occupants of our canoe let go and swam to shore.  Fields had always been afraid of water and had worn a life preserver every day since we left the wagons.  He threw up his hands and splashed and kicked at a terrible rate, for he could not swim, and at last made solid ground.  One of the canoes came down into the eddy below, where it lodged close to the shore, bottom up.  Alfred Walton in the other canoe could not swim, but held on to the gunwale with a death grip, and it went on down through the rapids.  Sometimes we could see the man and sometimes not, and he and the canoe took turns in disappearing.  Walton had very black hair, and as he clung fast to his canoe his black head looked like a crow on the end of a log.  Sometimes he would be under so long that we thought he must be lost, when up he would come again still clinging manfully.

McMahon and I threw everything out of the big canoe and pushed out after him.  I told Mc. to kneel down so I could see over him to keep the craft off the rocks, and by changing his paddle from side to side as ordered, he enabled me to make quick moves and avoid being dashed to pieces.  We fairly flew, the boys said, but I stood up in the stern and kept it clear of danger till we ran into a clear piece of river and overtook Walton clinging to the overturned boat; McMahon seized the boat and I paddled all to shore, but Walton was nearly dead and could hardly keep his grasp on the canoe.  We took him to a sandy place and worked over him and warmed him in the sun till he came to life again, then built a fire and laid him up near to it to get dry and warm.  If the canoe had gone on 20 yards farther with him before we caught it, he would have gone into another long rapid and been drowned.  We left Walton by the fire and crossing the river in the slack water, went up to where the other boys were standing, wet and sorry-looking, say-that all was gone and lost.  Rogers put his hand in his pocket and pulled out three half dollars and said sadly:—­“Boys, this is all I am worth in the world.”  All the clothes he had were a pair of overalls and a shirt.  If he had been possessed of a thousand in gold he would have been no richer, for there was no one to buy from and nothing to buy.  I said to them:  “Boys, we can’t help what has happened, we’ll do the best we can.  Right your canoe, get the water out, and we’ll go down and see how Walton is.”  They did as I told them,