They had crossed the trail leading back from the upper ford half an hour before.
Riding down from the ridge, they reached the river just three miles above the ford. Here they halted for a moment, two of the scouts’ horses having failed them.
The animals were all panting like hounds, and the riders relieved them of their weight, and began to go on foot along the river bank, the scout remarking:
“There is certainly no crossing between us and the ford, for I have ridden this far above it several times.
“It is above that the secret crossing is, and the outlaw would hardly have risked it had it been nearer to where the soldiers’ camp was.”
“So I think,” the sergeant remarked.
So on they went, the scout and sergeant walking rapidly and viewing every foot of ground, while the scouts followed behind leading their horses.
Thus a mile had been gone over, and the face of the sergeant grew anxious, for he saw that the sun was drawing near the horizon.
Buffalo Bill’s face was placid, for he never relieved his thoughts, no matter what was his distress of mind.