"The poor fellow lies stretched out, stark and stiff, where he was shot down by the Sioux. He must have been killed shortly after leaving the house."
"Where is his horse?"
"I suppose it has been stolen. It is a sad thing, but poor Plummer is with his Maker; it won't do for us to wait any longer; I don't understand how we have escaped thus far, for we are in greater danger than I had supposed. We must cross the stream without delay, even if we have to swim our horses."
"I am ready," said Mrs. Starr calmly; "lead the way."
"I hope it will not be necessary to subject you and Dot to the trial, but there is not a minute to spare."
With his lips compressed, the rancher hastily remounted his pony and turned his head toward the water.
"Let me keep in advance," he said, "and you can tell what to do."
The obedient horse sniffed the water, but, without hesitation, stepped in, sinking to his knees within a yard of the bank.
A rod farther the depth had not materially increased, and, turning his head, he signified to his wife to follow. She clasped Dot a little closer to her breast, spoke quietly to her animal, and he obeyed without faltering.
The water steadily but slowly deepened, and when the middle of the stream was reached it was at the stirrups of the leader. He withdrew his feet and pushed on, the pony cautiously advancing, and the hope growing that the stream would be forded without trouble.