“Ah!” he exclaimed at last. “I was searching too far for them. Cayuse, I think we are in for some fun. Our men are trying to cross the river, and the ford is high and running wild. I guess they must have had a cloudburst to the northward yesterday or last night. Those fellows are attempting to reach our side of the river, but I don’t think they have seen us.”
“Ugh! Mebbe so we got near in cottonwood, watch um.”
“It’s a good notion, Cayuse,” answered the scout, reining Bear Paw toward the river bottom, along which were dense thickets of willow and cottonwood.
A mile farther on they halted in the thick green growth from which they could watch the manœuvres of the party on the opposite shore. Several ponies were dripping on the bank, as though their riders had attempted to stem the current and had given it up.
A group of half a dozen were working over one man, occasionally holding him up by the heels.
“Him all same drink too much,” observed Cayuse.
The scout smiled, but he was watching something far up river. At first he thought it a cabin that had been swept away. Then he decided that it was a great tree that had been uprooted and torn from its footing.
Nearer it came in the raging river, and, finally, as the party on the opposite side discovered it, they began dashing about, shouting and gesticulating, as if apparently they had formed some plan to utilize the tree in crossing.
The scout and Cayuse were interested but unseen spectators, and at last they saw what these cowboys hoped to do.
In the middle of the river was a jutting ledge. If the tree, which was whirling in mid-stream, would strike the ledge and swing around they would attempt to rope the end next to them. If successful and the sweep of the great lever could be held, they could cling to rope and tree and reach the shoal water on the opposite side.