o anywhere near the struggling horses. But somehow Boyd's
blond head broke water at the side of the last gasping animal. He took a
grip on the water-logged mane, his body bobbing up and down with the
jerks of the horse's forequarters, until he had sawed through the lead
cord and was able to start the mount back toward the shore, swimming
beside him.

Drew was waiting with Kirby to give Boyd a hand up the bank.

"You could have been pulled under!"

Boyd was grinning. "But I wasn't. And the horse's all right, too." He
patted the wet haunch of the shivering animal. "That was bad--they
pulled each other down."

It was a disheartening beginning. But as the hours slipped by they had
better success. One horse, two, three could be towed on separate ropes
behind the raft. And in the morning there was a cockleshell of a boat
oared in by one of the men who had found it downriver.

They had ferried and crossed well into the dusk of the evening. And at
the first dawn they were at it again. Drew tried to remember how many
times he had made that trip, swimming or rowing, always with some mount
as his special charge. More than half the company had sworn they could
not swim, and so the burden of the transfer fell upon their fellows.

"Rennie--" That was Campbell climbing up from the raft after another
weary passage across. "There's trouble on the other side. You've been
using that mule of yours to get some of the horses over, haven't you?"

Drew was so tired that words were too much trouble to shape. He nodded
dully. Pryor had been right about Hannibal. The big mule had not only
taken his own passage across the Tennessee as a matter-of-course
proceeding, but had shouldered and urged along three horses as he went.
And twice since then Drew had taken him back and forth to bring in
skittish mounts causing trouble.

"That horse of mine's running wild; he broke out of the water twice."
The captain caught at Drew's bare arm so hard his nails cut. "Think you
could get him over with the mule's help?"

Drew wavered a little as he walked slowly to where he had picketed
Hannibal after their last trip. He was tired, and although he had eaten
earlier that morning, he was hungry again. It was warm and the sun was
climbing, but the air felt chill against his naked body and he shivered.
The one thing they were all getting out of this river business, Drew
decided, were much-needed baths.

Kirby, his body white save for tanned face and throat,