“Highest flood we—­ever seen,” said Van.

“You’ve been down?” queried Bostil, sharply.

“Not to the river,” replied Van.  “I went as far as—­where the gulch opens—­on the bluff.  There was a string of Navajos goin’ down.  An’ some comin’ up.  I stayed there watchin’ the flood, an’ pretty soon Somers come up the trail with Blakesley an’ Brack an’ some riders. . . .  An’ Somers hollered out, ’The boat’s gone!’”

“Gone!” exclaimed Bostil, his loud cry showing consternation.

“Oh, Dad!  Oh, Van!” cried Lucy, with eyes wide and lips parted.

“Sure she’s gone.  An’ the whole place down there—­where the willows was an’ the sand-bar—­it was deep under water.”

“What will become of Creech’s horses?” asked Lucy, breathlessly.

“My God! ain’t it a shame!” went on Bostil, and he could have laughed aloud at his hypocrisy.  He felt Lucy’s blue eyes riveted upon his face.

“Thet’s what we all was sayin’,” went on Van.  “While we was watchin’ the awful flood an’ listenin’ to the deep bum—­bum—­bum of rollin’ rocks some one seen Creech an’ two Piutes leadin’ the hosses up thet trail where the slide was.  We counted the hosses—­nine.  An’ we saw the roan shine blue in the sunlight.”

“Piutes with Creech!” exclaimed Bostil, the deep gloom in his eyes lighting.  “By all thet’s lucky!  Mebbe them Indians can climb the hosses out of thet hole an’ find water an’ grass enough.”

“Mebbe,” replied Van, doubtfully.  “Sure them Piutes could if there’s a chance.  But there ain’t any grass.”

“It won’t take much grass travelin’ by night.”

“So lots of the boys say.  But the Navajos they shook their heads.  An’ Farlane an’ Holley, why, they jest held up their hands.”

“With them Indians Creech has a chance to get his hosses out,” declared Bostil.  He was sure of his sincerity, but he was not certain that his sincerity was not the birth of a strange, sudden hope.  And then he was able to meet the eyes of his daughter.  That was his supreme test.

“Oh, Dad, why, why didn’t you hurry Creech’s horses over?” said Lucy, with her tears falling.

Something tight within Bostil’s breast seemed to ease and lessen.  “Why didn’t I? . . .  Wal, Lucy, I reckon I wasn’t in no hurry to oblige Creech.  I’m sorry now.”

“It won’t be so terrible if he doesn’t lose the horses,” murmured Lucy.

“Where’s young Joel Creech?” asked Bostil.

“He stayed on this side last night,” replied Van.  “Fact is, Joel’s the one who first knew the flood was on.  Some one said he said he slept in the canyon last night.  Anyway, he’s ravin’ crazy now.  An’ if he doesn’t do harm to some one or hisself I’ll miss my guess.”

“A-huh!” grunted Bostil.  “Right you are.”

“Dad, can’t anything be done to help Creech now?” appealed Lucy, going close to her father.

Bostil put his arm around her and felt immeasurably relieved to have the golden head press close to his shoulder.  “Child, we can’t fly acrost the river.  Now don’t you cry about Creech’s hosses.  They ain’t starved yet.  It’s hard luck.  But mebbe it’ll turn out so Creech’ll lose only the race.  An’, Lucy, it was a dead sure bet he’d have lost thet anyway.”