However, I did my best at the risk of falling in myself.
I took off my handkerchief and made a slip-knot, and begging Pelly to lie down on the top of the rock, I took his hand while I clung to the face of the wall as I best could by a little ledge of about two inches' width.
With great difficulty I succeeded in hooking the bitch's head in the slip-knot, but in my awkward position I could not use sufficient strength to draw her out.

I could only support her head above the water, which I could distinctly feel was drawing her from me.
Presently she gave a convulsive struggle, which freed her head from the loop, and in an instant she disappeared.
I could not help going round the rock to see if her body should be washed out when the torrent reappeared, when, to my astonishment, up she popped all right, not being more than half drowned by her subterranean excursion, and we soon helped her safe ashore.
Fortunately for her, the passage had been sufficiently large to pass her, although I have no doubt a man would have been held fast and drowned.
There was so much water in the river that I determined to move from this locality as too dangerous for hunting.

I therefore ordered the village people to assemble on the following morning to carry the loads and tent.

In the mean time I sent for the dead elk.
There could riot be a better place for a hunting-box than that cave.
We soon had a glorious fire roaring round the kennel-pot, which, having been well scoured with sand and water, was to make the soup.

Such soup!--shades of gourmands, if ye only smelt that cookery! The pot held six gallons, and the whole elk, except a few steaks, was cut up and alternately boiled down in sections.