They could find no weapons, but there were saddles and bridles and scores of fleet steeds to choose from, and it was but a few minutes before Two Knives and his friends were on their way through the darkness toward the river.
They did not hunt for any ford. Horses and men alike knew how to swim. Once safely across, there was a great temptation to give a whoop, but the chief forbade it.
"No. Keep still. No Tongue is on the trail of the Apaches. Noise bad for him."
With that he sprang into his saddle, and led the way at a fierce gallop.
[to be continued.]
[INCIDENTS OF THE GREAT FLOOD.]
If we could gather together the records of the mighty flood that lately laid waste the great valleys of the Ohio and Mississippi rivers, we should have a wonderfully terrible yet glorious picture of peril, suffering, and heroism. Scarcely a town but has its own sad tale of bridges carried away, railroad tracks washed out, houses flooded, and whole families forced to flee before the advancing waters, and in many cases to flee in vain. In Arkansas and Mississippi the mighty "Father of Waters" burst through the great levees which the labor of generations has built up to confine him within bounds, and rushed over the low-lying country beyond, carrying death and desolation with him. In Arkansas City every house was flooded, and families retreated to the upper stories of their homes. Many families whose houses were but of one story were forced to abandon their homes, and trust themselves to small boats or rafts hastily put together.
A sad fate befell one such family. They were a gentleman and his wife and six children, four of whom were between the ages of six and fourteen. The floods had risen around them until not even the roof afforded a safe refuge. Their only hope was a small boat—a "dug-out"—and in it they all embarked. But what chance had they in such a tiny craft and in such a storm? The story is short. The boat capsized, and the father saved his wife, only to realize that they two were left childless.
In another place two brothers were alone in their father's house on the bank of a creek. The water rose so rapidly that before they could realize it the house was surrounded, and they saw no hope but to trust themselves to the water, and endeavor to reach higher ground, where they would be safe. They were brave, strong lads, but all too weak to battle against the raging torrent into which they plunged. One of them was not seen more. The other reached a haven of refuge in a tree, and had help been at hand he might have lived to tell the fearful tale. But no aid was near. It was twenty-four hours before he was found, and then cold and exposure had done their work. The two brothers had perished within a few hours of one another.