How practical he was!  He told Fay she looked good for sore eyes, but he needed a biscuit most of all.  There was just a second of singular hesitation when he faced Lassiter, and then the big, strong hand of the young Mormon went out to meet the old gunman’s.  While they fed him and he ate like a starved man Shefford told of the flight from the village, the rescuing of Jane and Lassiter from Surprise Valley, the descent from the plateau, the catastrophe to Shadd’s gang—­and, concluding, Shefford, without any explanation, told that Nas Ta Bega had killed the Mormon Waggoner.

“Reckon I had that figured,” replied Joe.  “First off.  I didn’t think so. . . .  So Shadd went over the cliff.  That’s good riddance.  It beats me, though.  Never knew that Piute’s like with a horse.  And he had some grand horses in his outfit.  Pity about them.”

Later when Joe had a moment alone with Shefford he explained that during his ride to Kayenta he had realized Fay’s innocence and who had been responsible for the tragedy.  He took Withers, the trader, into his confidence, and they planned a story, which Withers was to carry to Stonebridge, that would exculpate Fay and Shefford of anything more serious than flight.  If Shefford got Fay safely out of the country at once that would end the matter for all concerned.

“Reckon I’m some ferry-boatman, too—­a Fairy boatman.  Haw!  Haw!” he added.  “And we’re going through. . . .  Now I want you to help me rig this tarpaulin up over the bow of the boat.  If we can fix it up strong it’ll keep the waves from curling over.  They filled her four times for me.”

They folded the tarpaulin three times, and with stout pieces of split plank and horseshoe nails from Shefford’s saddle-bags and pieces of rope they rigged up a screen around bow and front corners.

Nas Ta Bega put the saddles in the boat.  The mustangs were far up Nonnezoshe Boco and would work their way back to green and luxuriant canyons.  The Indian said they would soon become wild and would never be found.  Shefford regretted Nack-yal, but was glad the faithful little mustang would be free in one of those beautiful canyons.

“Reckon we’d better be off,” called Joe.  “All aboard!” He placed Fay and Jane in a corner of the bow, where they would be spared sight of the rapids.  Shefford loosed the rope and sprang aboard.  “Pard,” said Joe, “it’s one hell of a river!  And now with the snow melting up in the mountains it’s twenty feet above normal and rising fast.  But that’s well for us.  It covers the stones in the rapids.  If it hadn’t been in flood Joe would be an angel now!”

The boat cleared the sand, lazily wheeled in the eddying water, and suddenly seemed caught by some powerful gliding force.  When it swept out beyond the jutting wall Shefford saw a quarter of a mile of sliding water that appeared to end abruptly.  Beyond lengthened out the gigantic gap between the black and frowning cliffs.