A BEAE ON FIKE. 17 



sense of the Indians and the terror of the 

 "cattle" (this is what the Englishmen 

 called our horses) to give us warning. 



In a short time we struck an arroyo, or 

 canyon, that was nearly free from brush 

 and led steeply down to the cool, deep 

 waters of the McCloud River. Here we 

 found the Indians had thrown their loads 

 and themselves on the ground. 



They got up in sulky silence, and, strip 

 ping our horses, turned them loose; and 

 then, taking our saddles, they led us 

 hastily up out of the narrow mouth of the 

 arroyo under a little steep stone bluff. 



They did not say a word or make any 

 sign, and we were all too breathless and 

 bewildered to either question or protest. 

 The sky was black, and thunder made the 

 woods tremble. We were hardly done wip 

 ing the blood and perspiration from our 

 torn hands and fa,ces where we sat when 

 the mule jerked up nis head, sniffed, snort 

 ed and then plunged headlong into the 

 river and struck out for the deep forest 



