oks; neither had found a crossing.

There was no time to search further--at least my impatience would no
longer brook delay. It was not the first time for both my horse and
myself to cross a river without ford; nor was it the first time for many
of my followers.

Below the rapids, the current ran slow, apparently ceasing altogether.
The water was still, though wider from bank to bank--a hundred yards or
more. By the aid of the moonlight, I could tell that the bank on the
opposite side was low and shelving. It could be easily climbed by a
horse.

I stayed to reason no further. Many a hundred yards had Moro swum with
his rider on his back--many a current had he cleft with his proud breast
far more rapid than that.

I headed him to the bank, gave him the spur, and went plunging into the
flood.

Plunge--plunge--plunge! I heard behind me till the last of my followers
had launched themselves on the wave, and were swimming silently over.

One after another we reached the opposite side, and ascended the bank.

Hurriedly I counted our number as the men rode out; one had not yet
arrived. Who was missing?

"Rube," answered some one.

I glanced back, but without feeling any uneasiness. I had no fear for
the trapper; Garey alleged he was "safe to turn up." Something had
detained him. Could his old mare swim?

"Like a mink," replied Garey; "but Rube won't ride her across; he's
afeerd to sink her too deep in the water. See! yonder he comes!"

Near the middle of the stream, two faces were observed rippling the
wave, one directly in the wake of the other. The foremost was the
grizzled front of the old mustang, the other the unmistakeable
physiognomy of her master. The moonlight shining upon both rendered
them conspicuous above the dark brown water; and the spectacle drew a
laugh from those who had reached the bank.

Rube's mode of crossing was unique, like every action of this singular
man. Perhaps he adopted it from sheer eccentricity, or maybe in order
that his mustang might swim more freely.

He had ridden gently into the water, and kept his saddle till the mare
was beyond her depth--then sliding backward over her hips, he took the
tail in his teeth, and partly towed like a fish upon the hook, and
partly striking to assist in the passage, he swam after. As soon as the
mare again touched bottom, he drew himself up over the croup, and in
this way regained his saddle.

Mare and man, as they climbed out on