A BEAR ON FIRE. 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 faces where we sat when
the mule jerked up his head, sniffed, snort-
ed and then plunged headlong into the
river and struck out for the deep forest