[Illustration:  “A deer suddenly sprang from the bank.”]

A deer suddenly sprang from the bank into the river ahead of the boat and, frenzied with fear, swam boldly athwart its course.  He was followed by another and another.  Birds flew shrieking through the air.  Even the river animals swam uneasily along the banks, or peered out of their holes, as if nature had communicated to them, also, the terrible alarm; while, like the roar of a cataract,—­dull, heavy, portentous,—­the wrath of the flames rolled ominously through the air.

Amid the sickening smoke which was already rolling in volumes over the boat and the terrible uproar and confusion of nature, Herbert and the trapper kept steadily to their task.  But every moment the line of fire gained on them.  The smoke was already at intervals stifling and the heat of the coming conflagration getting unbearable.  Brands began to fall hissing into the water.  Twice had Herbert flung a blazing fragment out of the boat.  And so, in a race literally for life, with the flames chasing them and their lives in jeopardy, they turned the last bend above the carry which began at the head of the rapids.  But it was too late; the fiery fragments blown ahead by the high wind had fallen in front of them, and the landing at the carry itself was actually enveloped in smoke and flame.

“The fire be ahead of us, boy!” exclaimed the trapper, “and death is sartinly comin’ behind.  The odds be agin us to start with, for the smoke is thick and the fire will be in the bends at least half the way down, but it’s our only chance; we must run the rapids.”

“What about the dogs?”

“The pups must shirk for themselves,” answered the old man.  “I’m sorry, but the rapids be swift and the waters shaller on the first half of the stretch.  And the pups settle the boat half an inch, ef they settle it a hair.  Yis, overboard with ye, pups! overboard with ye!” commanded the trapper.  “Ye must use the gifts the Lord has gin ye now, or git singed.  I advise ye to keep with the current and come down trailin’ the boat; for man’s reason is better than dogs’ reason, techin’ currents and eddies, not to speak of falls.  But take yer own way; for yer lives be in jeopardy with yer master’s, and ye ought, for sartin, to have the chance of dyin’ as ye like to.  But yer best chance is to foller the boat, as I jedge.”

The trapper had continued to talk as if addressing members of the human and not the canine species; and long before he had finished his remarks, the hounds had taken to the water and were swimming with all their power directly in the wake of the boat, as if they had actually understood their master’s injunction, and were, indeed, determined to shoot the rapids in his wake.