if it is rough? It is life, it is not playing at life, or imitating life: it's real."
Judith waited; but fearing too much loss of time, she prompted Helen, "Go on, Dear. The drowning—how did it happen?"
With a shiver the girl again took up the narrative. "Along late in the afternoon we came to the place in the river where the Indians fish; and—oh, Judie, whatever possessed me to do it I don't know, but I said, 'There's a good picture, that old dugout canoe with the riffles in the background; only there's no life in it.' Dan would do anything to please me, and quick as a flash he came back, 'I'll put some life in it,' and before I realized what he was about he had sprung into the boat and pushed off toward the riffles. I leveled my camera; but he called back, 'Wait!' so I held my finger ready to press, and he added, "I'll give you a thrilling one!" With that he went overboard. I was startled, but not alarmed, as he was a good swimmer, and was called one of the most daring men in Alaska. So I just held my breath, and waited, and in a moment his head appeared, and he called something—I thought it was 'Now!'—and clutched for the canoe. And I snapped him; then carefully rolled off the film. When I looked up again he was not in sight, and the old boat had drifted into the rapids. I thought he was making for the bank higher up,—there was a bend in the river,—and I ran up and down and called him; but—I—never saw him again—till—till they brought his body, all dripping!"
"What did you do, Nelly dear? I mean right away. Did you call for help?"
"No. One of ranch hands was cutting timber near, and he heard me call Dan. He came out and answered me; said he hadn't seen Dan all day. He thought I was looking for him. I just pointed to the river—I couldn't speak—I couldn't!"
"And then?"
"The next I remember Jenny brought me home." She closed her eyes and lay back with a shudder.
Judith's arms held her tenderly, closely; but her eyes went on a search about the room. Where was the camera with its corroborating films? She must find the camera, and time was passing, and there was the six o'clock boat. She began to rock and softly to stroke Helen's head, singing to her meantime, as to a sleepy child. Her efforts were at last rewarded, and she stole quietly down the stairs.
"She's asleep," she confided to Jenny, who seemed much relieved. "Do you know where she left her camera?"
"She's got a darkroom upstairs. Like's not it's up there where she had it last."
Judith found the darkroom; but the camera was not there. She went on a still hunt through the other rooms; but without results. Undoubtedly she had left it in the woods. She returned to Jenny, and asked that now wholly acquiescent person to show her the river where Sloane was drowned. The woman gladly conducted her to the spot.
"I'm going to walk about awhile," Judith said. "You had better go back. Mrs. Sloane might wake and want something."
Alone she began a careful examination of the ground. Ten chances to one the films were ruined if the camera had been out in the weather the last twenty-four hours; but the one chance was worth working for. She looked everywhere. She had about concluded to renew theContinued on page 17
