Yancy had been thrown in the river and had been picked up in a dying condition.

"Hannibal," he said, "Solomon Mahaffy, who was here last night, told me he saw down at the river landing, a man who had been fished up out of the Elk--a man who had been roughly handled." "Were it my Uncle Bob ?" cried Hannibal, lifting a swollen face to his.
"Dear lad, I don't know," said the judge sympathetically.

"Some people on a raft had picked him up out of the river.

He was unconscious and no one knew him.

He was apparently a stranger in these parts." "It were Uncle Bob! It were Uncle Bob--I know it were my Uncle Bob! I must go find him!" and Hannibal slipped from the judge's lap and ran for his rifle and bundle.
"Stop a bit!" cried the judge.