With the setting of the sun, the temperature had fallen a number of degrees. Alden was warmly clothed, but had no blanket. When he left the train in company with Jethro he expected to rejoin his friends before the close of the afternoon and a blanket would have been an incumbrance, but quite acceptable now. “I hope ’Ceph won’t have to swim,” he said, with a shudder: “I shall be chilled, for I know the water is icy, but there’s no help for it.” The roar that had caught his attention some time before sounded on his left in the direction of the ridge, where the signal fire was burning. The explanation was clear: the stream issued from some gorge or tumbled over rapids or falls, and gave out the noise that was audible for a long distance in the stillness of approaching night. The pony felt his way carefully, with nose thrust forward, occasionally snorting and not bearing down until he found the bottom with his advanced hoof. Once he slipped, but instantly recovered himself. Alden waited till his feet were within a few inches of the surface. Then he slipped them out of the stirrups and drew them up in front. Deprived thus of his “balancing poles,” a quick flirt of the pony to one side would have flung him into the water, but ’Ceph, if he was aware of it (and it would seem he ought to have been), did not seize the chance. Half the distance was passed and the dangling stirrups dipped. Would the good fortune continue all the way across? It did. The stream shallowed, and increasing his pace, the pony stepped out on the other bank, with the moisture dripping from his fetlocks. Only the lower part of his body, however, had been wetted. Alden himself was dry even to the soles of his shoes. “Thank fortune!” he exclaimed; “I hope we shall have the same luck at the next stream. Now we’re off again, old fellow.” As nearly as the rider could judge, he had ridden half the distance to the next station. If he were right, seven or eight miles remained to be traversed. He was doing well but why did not ’Ceph “let himself out,” when the ground was favorable? He still walked, though ever stepping rapidly, with head dipping with each fall of the hoof. For the first time, Alden broke the rule which had governed him heretofore: he spoke sharply to the pony and jerked the bridle rein. The animal instantly responded with a gallop which he kept up for a half mile, when he dropped again to a walk. And before he did this, his rider discovered to his consternation that he was going lame. The limp showed more plainly when he was walking, and was steadily aggravated until the progress became painful to the rider. He was of a merciful disposition and could not bear the sight of suffering in a dumb creature. He stopped the horse and dropped from the saddle. “I shall be in a fine fix if you give out, ’Ceph, not knowing the way to the next station nor to the one we have left, but I am more sorry for you than for myself.”