That night we camped, fireless and foodless, on the banks of a swift-flowing stream in a valley between two great mountains.  We reached this stream a little before dark, and since the trail led straight into the water, we would have put this obstacle behind us if we could.  But though the little river was not above five or six poles in width it was exceeding swift and deep; so impassable, in truth, that we were moved to wonder how the captive party had made shift to cross.

We guessed at it a while, Richard and I, and then gave it up until we might have the help of better daylight.  But the old borderer’s curiosity was not so readily postponed.  Cutting a slim pole from a sapling thicket, he waded in cautiously, anchoring himself by the drooping branches of the willows whilst he prodded and sounded and proved beyond a doubt that the current was over man-head deep, and far too rapid for swimming.

Satisfied of this, he came out, dripping, and with a monitory word to us to keep a sharp lookout, disappeared up-stream in the growing dusk, his long rifle at the trail, and his body bent to bring his keen old eyes the nearer to the ground.

XXII

HOW THE FATES GAVE LARGESS OF DESPAIR

Ephraim Yeates was gone a full hour.  When he returned he gave us cause to wonder at his lack of caution, since he filled his earthen Indian pipe and coolly struck a light wherewith to fire it.  But when the pipe was aglow he told us of his findings.

“’Twas about ez I reckoned; them varmints waded in the shallows a spell to throw us off, and then came out and forded higher up.”

“That will be a shrewd guess of yours, I take it, Ephraim?” said I; for the night was black as Erebus.

“Ne’er a guess at all; I’ve had ’em fair at eyeholts,” this as calmly as if we had not been for ten long days pinning our faith to an ill-defined trace of foot-prints.  “Ez I was a-going on to say, they’re incamped on t’other bank ruther eenside o’ two sights and a horn-blow from this.  I saw ’em and counted ’em:  seven redskins and the two gals.”

“Thank God!” says Richard, as fervently as if our rescue of the women were already a thing accomplished.  Then he fell upon the scout with an eager question:  “How does she look, Ephraim?—­tell me how she looks!”

“Listen at him!” said the old man, cackling his dry little laugh.  “How in tarnation am I going to know which ‘she’ he’s a-stewing about?  There’s a pair of ’em, and they both look like wimmin ez have been dragged hilter-skilter through the big woods for some better ’n a week.  Natheless, they’re fitting to set up and take their nourishment, both on ‘em.  They was perching on a log afore the fire, with ever’ last idintical one o’ them redskins a-waiting on ’em like they was a couple of Injun queens.  I reckon ez how the hoss-captain gave them varmints their orders, partic’lar.”