"What will be their next step?" was the question that presented itself to the young defender of the ford.
It was not to be expected that they would try to cross in the face of the certain reception that awaited them.
"They know more of the Cheyenne than we do," Brinton Kingsland thought, "and must be aware of some place where they can reach this side without danger. If they do succeed in coming over, there will be trouble."
He dared not wait long, for nothing was to be gained, while he ran the risk of losing everything. Only the sound of the rushing water, the crunching of the ice, reached his ear. Rising to his feet and peering into the gloom, he could discern nothing of his foes.
"There's no need of my staying here," he decided, starting along the stream in quest of his parents.
When he had passed a hundred yards without seeing them, he was astonished. Another hundred, and still they were invisible, and the cautious signals he made remained unanswered.
CHAPTER VI.
"AY, WHERE WERE THEY?"
By the unaccountable disappearance of his parents and the horses, Brinton was left in a state rather of perplexity than alarm. The time was so brief since they left him, that he could not understand how they had gone far, nor why they did not answer the guarded calls he made.
He noticed that when in obedience to his urgent entreaties the couple rode away, followed by his own pony, they went down stream, that is, in the direction of the current. Surely they could not have passed any distance, and he believed they heard his voice when, making a funnel with his mittened hands, he pronounced the words—