“I never for one minute calculated on doing a thing else,” replied the deputy marshal, who had been standing somewhat apart awaiting the end of the controversy, with a good humored smile in his twinkling blue eyes.
“Good for you! Then come on!”
Paul urged Sade into the water. He was followed unhesitatingly by Munson, Johnson, and Baker. The others held back, and finally, after a short consultation, wheeled and retraced their steps.
“I ain’t no coward, neither,” muttered one, as he rode away, “but I plumb don’t see no sense in bein’ drownded. I’d ruther be killed a roundin’ up Jesse.”
The horses which had made the initial plunge were already in water up to their breasts. The current had an ominous rush to it.
“I don’t care. I didn’t mean to hold over and let our quarry get wind of this affair,” cried Langford, over his shoulder. “Keep your rifles dry, boys!”
Suddenly, without warning, Sade stepped into a hole and lost her balance for a moment. She struggled gallantly and recovered herself, yet it weakened her. It was not long before all the horses were compelled to swim, and the force of the current immediately began driving them down stream. Sade fought bravely against the pressure. She was a plucky little cow pony and loved her master, but it was about all she could do to keep from going under, let alone making much headway against the tremendous pressure of the current. Langford’s danger was grave.
“Steady, my girl!” he encouraged. He flung his feet free of the stirrups so that, if she went under, he would be ready to try it alone. Poor Sade! He should hate to lose her. If he released her now and struck off by himself, she might make it. He had never known White River to run so sullenly and strongly; it would be almost impossible for a man to breast it. And there was Mary—he could never go back to her and claim her for his own until he could bring Black back, too, to suffer for her father’s wrongs.
At that moment, Sade gave a little convulsive shudder, and the water rolled over her head. Langford slipped from the saddle, but in the instant of contact with the pushing current, his rifle was jerked violently from his hand and sank out of sight. With no time for vain regrets, he struck out for the shore. The struggle was tremendous. He was buffeted and beaten, and borne farther and farther down the stream. More than once in the endeavor to strike too squarely across, his head went under; but he was a strong swimmer, and soon scrambling up the bank some distance below the ford, he turned and sent a resonant hail to his comrades. They responded lustily. He had been the only one unhorsed. He threw himself face downward to cough up some of the water he had been compelled to swallow, and Munson, running up, began slapping him vigorously upon the back. He desisted only to run swiftly along the bank.
“Good for you,” Jim cried, approvingly, assisting Langford’s spent horse up the bank. Coming up to the party where Langford still lay stretched out full length, Sade rubbed her nose inquiringly over the big shoulders lying so low, and whinnied softly.