Even with that all might have been well, had they not waxed greedy. Now they did a very foolish thing--the first of several foolish things. Simon was determined to steal all; the two others agreed to it. They rapidly fitted the hide halters that they discovered, mounted, and began to lead and drive the loose horses through the opened gateway. But the horses were wild; did not like the smell of white men. They snorted alarmingly, and cavorted and reared. Dogs commenced to bark, voices arose, inquiring and scolding; the three men worked desperately with the stubborn animals. And suddenly the voices swelled. "The horses! The Long Knives are here, stealing our horses!" The town was in an up-roar. "To the tall timber and keep goin'," Simon panted. "Lead all you've got. I'll follow." So instead of riding free, out they hustled, Clark and Montgomery each with a fistful of halter thongs, Simon lashing and whooping and laughing behind. They dashed at top speed through the forest, never minding the branches. They had seven horses. Such a mad-cap prank it was! The village rang with the hue and cry, and the forest aisles echoed. Presently the tumult died away. The blind course had plunged into a swamp, and the three mischief-makers were forced to halt uncertainly. They listened keenly. They heard no sound of pursuit. The town evidently was reconnoitering. So they side-stepped the swamp and resumed their own noisy route. They did not stop again that night; they rested at day-break, long enough to eat a few mouthfuls; all that day they rode, and all the night again; with the morning they had arrived upon the bank of the Ohio. They had left a trail plain enough for a five-year-old child to follow. But here they were, and-- "Across the Ohio and we're safe, boys," quoth Simon. "Hooray! Didn't we come it over 'em proper?" The wind was blowing a gale, up-stream, and the Ohio was whipped into white-caps. It looked like a stormy passage. "You fellows tote our fixin's over on a raft; I'll swim with the hosses," bade the nimble Simon. They worked; made a raft of logs and branches; loaded the guns and blankets and ammunition upon it; herded the horses into the stream, and while his two comrades threw stones and sticks at them from the shore Simon himself forged into the stream, to swim just below them. He was a strong man, but the high waves choked him, the current carried him down, down in spite of his efforts; pretty soon he and the snorting horses were separated. They had had enough, and turned back to the shore. Montgomery and Clark could not head them; out they all scrambled. Pshaw! Around turned Simon, and staggered out, too, for another try. The same thing occurred. He could not keep up with the horses, and they refused to cross without a guide. In fact, they wanted to go home. He sank exhausted upon the bank. "Plague take 'em! I've got to rest a spell."