“No: ’tain’t as high as Massoora bluffs, nor the kenyons o’ Snake River—thet nob’dy durnies; but ef ’tain’t as high as it mout be, it ur ivery minnit a gettin’ higherer, I reck’n.”
“Getting higher, you think?”
“Ye-es; or whet ur putty consid’able the same thing the t’other ur a gettin’ lower.”
“The water, you mean?”
“The water ur a fallin’—gwine down by inches at a jump; an in an hour from this, thur’ll be bluffs afront o’ the camp helf a yurd high—thet’s whet thur’ll be.”
“And you think I could get into the camp by creeping under them?”
“Sure o’t. Whet’s to hinner ye? it ur easy as fallin’ off o’ a log.”
“But the horse—how could I bring him near?”
“Jest the same way as yurself. I tell yur the bed o’ thet river ur deep enuf to hide the biggest hoss in creeashun. ’Tur now full, for the reezun thur’s been a fresh in consykwince o’ last night’s rain: ’ee needn’t mind thet—the hoss kin wade or swim eyther, an the bank ’ll kiver ’im from the eyes of the Injuns. You kin leave ’im in the river.”
“In the water?”