on, whistling.

At the ford he found Stevens standing close to the river's edge, twisting
one of his long red moustaches in doubt and vexation.

"Damn this river," he growled, as Aldous came up. "You never can tell what
it's going to do overnight. Look there! Would you try to cross?"

"I wouldn't," replied Aldous. "It's a foot higher than yesterday. I
wouldn't take the chance."

"Not with two guides, a cook, and a horse-wrangler on your pay-roll--and a
hospital bill as big as Geikie staring you in the face?" argued Stevens,
who had been sick for three months. "I guess you'd pretty near take a
chance. I've a notion to."

"I wouldn't," repeated Aldous.

"But I've lost two days already, and I'm taking that bunch of sightseers
out for a lump sum, guaranteeing 'em so many days on the trail. This ain't
what you might call _on the trail_. They don't expect to pay for this
delay, and that outfit back in the bush is costing me thirty dollars a day.
We can get the dunnage and ourselves over in the flat-boat. It'll make our
arms crack--but we can do it. I've got twenty-seven horses. I've a notion
to chase 'em in. The river won't be any lower to-morrow."

"But you may be a few horses ahead."

Stevens bit off a chunk of tobacco and sat down. For a few moments he
looked at the muddy flood with an ugly eye. Then he chuckled, and grinned.