"Now," went on Dent, "here's our best plan. We'll go in in a bunch with a pony each side of the party. Then, if some of these ugly brutes come up to see who's crossing their river, they're more likely to grab a pony, and if we lose them, why we must."
"It will be a frightful loss," said Jack.
"It lies between that and being scuppered ourselves," said Dent.
"Yes, yes, Jim, of course," cried Jack. "Your plan is the best."
It was carried out at once. The four men went into the ford in a bunch, with a pony up stream and a pony down stream. Jack was leading the up-stream pony, Buck the down-stream animal, while Jim and the Burman were between them. The crossing was a broad one, near upon a hundred yards, for the river had spread out on a sandy flat, and they were thirty or forty yards into the stream before they were more than thigh-deep. Then the water suddenly deepened a full twelve inches, and they were up to their waists. The stream, even on the flat here, was fairly swift, and they could only wade forward slowly.
"Slow job this," remarked Buck. "Water's tougher stuff than you think to get through. I feel as if I was wading through treacle."
"Yes, doesn't it clog your movements," agreed Jack, "but I should think we're a good half-way over."
"Deep part got to come yet, sahib," said Me Dain. "We have come through easy part of ford."
