restive, but not vicious, and after a plunge or two, to test their new
masters, came easily under control. Keith led the way, moving straight
down the gully, which gradually deepened, burying them in its black heart,
until it finally debouched onto the river sands. The riotous noises of the
drunken town died slowly away behind, the night silent and dark. The two
riders could scarcely distinguish one another as they drew rein at the
edge of the water. To the southward there gleamed a cluster of lights,
marking the position of the camp of regulars. Keith drove his horse deeper
into the stream, and headed northward, the negro following like a shadow.

There was a ford directly opposite the cantonment, and another, more
dangerous, and known to only a few, three miles farther up stream. Keeping
well within the water's edge, so as to thus completely obscure their
trail, yet not daring to venture deep for fear of striking quicksand, the
plainsman sent his pony struggling forward, until the dim outline of the
bank at his right rendered him confident that they had attained the proper
point for crossing. He had been that way only once before, and realized
the danger of attempting passage in such darkness, but urgent need drove
him forward.

"Follow me just as close as you can, boy," he said sternly, "and keep both
your feet out of the stirrups. If your horse goes down hang to is tail,
and let him swim out."

There was little enough to guide by, merely a single faint star peering
out from a rift of the clouds, but Keith's remembrance was that the ford
led straight out to the centre of the stream, and then veered slightly
toward the right. He knew the sand ridge was only used by horsemen, not
being wide enough for the safe passage of wagons, but the depth of the
water on either side was entirely problematical. He was taking a big