She began to shudder again, and, sensitive to her every motion, he
asked, solicitously, if she were sick, but she shook her head.

"I--I--was thinking what--supposing you hadn't come? Oh, Poleon! you
don't know what you saved me from." She leaned forward and laid a
tiny, grateful hand on the huge brown paw that rested on his oar. "I
wonder if I can ever forget?"

She noted that they were running with the current, and inquired:

"Where are we going?"

"Wal, I can't pull dis boat 'gainst dat current, so I guess we pass
on till I fin' my shirt, den bimebye we pick it up some steamboat
an' go home."

Five miles below his quick eye detected his half-submerged "bark"
lodged beneath some overhanging firs which, from the water's action,
had fallen forward into the stream, and by rare good-fortune it was
still upright, although awash. He towed it to the next sand-bar,
where he wrung out and donned his shirt, then tipped the water from
the smaller craft, and, making it fast astern of the Peterborough,
set out again. Towards noon they came in sight of a little stern-
wheeled craft that puffed and pattered manfully against the sweeping
current, hiding behind the points and bars and following the
slackest water.

"It's the Mission, boat!" cried Necia. "It's the Mission boat!
Father Barnum will be aboard."