At last he rose for
a few seconds, and immediately half-a-dozen arrows whizzed through the
air; but most of them fell short--only one passed close to his cheek,
and went with a "whip" into the river. He immediately sank again, and
the next time he rose to breathe he was far beyond the reach of his
Indian enemies.
CHAPTER XIII.
_Escape from Indians--A discovery--Alone in the desert_.
Dick Varley had spent so much of his boyhood in sporting about among
the waters of the rivers and lakes near which he had been reared, and
especially during the last two years had spent so much of his leisure
time in rolling and diving with his dog Crusoe in the lake of the
Mustang Valley, that he had become almost as expert in the water as a
South Sea islander; so that when he found himself whirling down the
rapid river, as already described, he was more impressed with a
feeling of gratitude to God for his escape from the Indians than
anxiety about getting ashore.
He was not altogether blind or indifferent to the danger into which he
might be hurled if the channel of the river should be found lower down
to be broken with rocks, or should a waterfall unexpectedly appear.
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