“I know what Bob’s ‘streaks of fire’ are now,” said Frank.
“That light comes from a dark-lantern,” chimed in Archie. “There’s only one thing, so far, that I can’t understand, and that is, where that boat came from in such a hurry. What’s that?”
Just then a large white object, which appeared to unfold itself as it moved along, came into view, and rolled down the bank toward the creek. It stopped when it reached the water’s edge, thus forming a walk, which extended from the creek to the walls of the rancho. This was another thing that Archie could not understand, and neither could Frank. They knew that it was what the trapper had called the “bridge of clouds,”—and there it was, “rolling and tumbling, like the smoke from the mouth of a cannon,” just as Dick had described it to them—but what was it made of? that was the question. Of course it couldn’t be a cloud, but it certainly looked like one. Archie sank lower behind the parapet, and muttered his favorite expression a good many times, and Frank puffed out his cheeks, and scratched his head to stir up his ideas.
While the bridge of clouds (the boys did not know what else to call it) was placing itself in position on that side of the creek, a similar operation had been going on on the opposite bank. The boat had by this time crossed the creek, and a white object, like the one just described—another bridge of clouds—extended from it into the woods. Presently, two horsemen appeared, riding down the bridge toward the boat. One was mounted on Roderick, and the other on King James; and each led a horse which had doubtless been stolen that night. They rode upon the flatboat, the bridge along which they had just passed rolled itself up after them, and the boat began to move across the creek. It was plain, now, that the old trapper had not been dreaming. The horsemen were still in their saddles; the Mexican, who had gone over in the boat, was standing quietly in the stern; the oar lay upon the bottom where he had thrown it; and yet the boat moved rapidly through the water. There was no mistake about it, for the boys could see the whole proceeding as plainly as though it had been broad daylight. The boat was certainly coming across the creek, and it was equally certain that not one of its three passengers was propelling it. A dozen oarsmen could not have sent it through the water as rapidly as it was moved by that invisible power. It was not more than half-a-minute in crossing the creek, and as soon as it touched the bank, the horsemen rode out on the bridge of clouds, and came toward the rancho. Frank and Archie kept close watch of their movements, thrusting their heads as far over the parapet as they dared, and it seemed to them that the horsemen went into the wall. They suddenly disappeared somewhere very suddenly; and no sooner were they out of sight, than the bridge of clouds rolled itself up behind them, the light was extinguished, and darkness once more settled down over the rancho.
These various incidents followed one another with a rapidity that was utterly bewildering. The horsemen had crossed the creek, and were safe in the rancho, almost before the boys knew it. They had moved as swiftly and silently as spirits; and when they had passed out of sight, Archie struck the parapet with his fist, to make sure that he was awake. He felt the cold chills creeping along his back, and he did not wonder now that old Bob had been frightened. He was willing to confess that he was frightened himself.
“Well!” said Frank, after a moment’s pause.
“Don’t ask me any questions,” replied Archie. “I don’t know any more about it now than I did before. Where did those fellows go?”
“What was that white thing the horses walked on, and what moved it? I didn’t see any one near it!”
“Where did that flatboat come from, and where could it have gone so suddenly? It disappeared the instant the horsemen left it.”