er announced someone's
approach. Laramie was back and alone.

Almost anybody in the world would have been welcome at such a juncture.
He called and she answered quickly, but he brought unwelcome news--the
little bridge that spanned the creek at this point was out.

"We can't get across, can we?" she exclaimed in disappointment.

"We can swim the creek if you're game for it."

"Could we possibly get across?"

"If I didn't expect to get across I'd sure never try it. It'll be a
wet crossing."

"I couldn't be wetter."

"Hawk asked if you could swim."

"I can't."

"I told him I didn't suppose you could."

"Are we all to go together?"

"He's over now. He signaled a minute ago. I told him I'd get you
across if he'd get you out. It's close to daybreak. Better take off
your coat."

While he strapped her coat to the saddle, she lightened and freed
herself as much as possible, disengaged, as he directed, her feet from
the stirrups, and they started for the creek. At the point he had
chosen for the plunge, he gave her a few admonitions, chiefly to the
effect of doing nothing except to cling to her seat in getting into the
flood and getting out. Just as her horse poised beside Laramie's a
wave of dread swept over her. It was very literally a plunge into the
dark. "Are you afraid?" he asked, divining her feeling.

Pride dictated her answer: "No," she said stoutly. "Though, of
course," she added with an attempt at lightness, "I'd prefer to cross
on a bridge."

"All in getting used to it, I suppose. I guess I've crossed here a
hundred times before there was any bridge. Don't get scared if your
head goes under water when your horse jumps in. The bank here is a
little high, but it's clean jumping. Say when you're ready."

"I'm ready."

"Go!"

With his hand on her bridle, he spoke loudly and sharply, kicked her
horse with one foot and punched his own horse with the other at the
same time. The next instant, gripped by an overpowering fear, and
breathless, Kate felt herself jerked into the air, then she plunged
headlong forward and sank into the boiling flood. Down, down she went,
her ears swooning with water, mouth and eyes tight shut, and moving she
knew not where or how until her head rose out of the flood and a voice
yelled above the tumult: "You're all right! Horse's doing fine. Hang
on!"

Then she was conscious of a hand clutching her upper arm, a hand so
strong her flesh winced within its