The animals were all panting like hounds, and the riders relieved them of their weight, and began to go on foot along the river bank, the scout remarking: “There is certainly no crossing between us and the ford, for I have ridden this far above it several times. “It is above that the secret crossing is, and the outlaw would hardly have risked it had it been nearer to where the soldiers’ camp was.” “So I think,” the sergeant remarked. So on they went, the scout and sergeant walking rapidly and viewing every foot of ground, while the scouts followed behind leading their horses. Thus a mile had been gone over, and the face of the sergeant grew anxious, for he saw that the sun was drawing near the horizon. Buffalo Bill’s face was placid, for he never relieved his thoughts, no matter what was his distress of mind. On they went, limbering up their legs from long riding by rapid walking. At last they came to a rise, when the scout halted. He saw that there were two ridges running to the river, a deep ravine between them. Across the river he saw that there was a sand bar, and a point of sand stretched out into the stream, the swift flow being on the side where they stood. The channel here looked narrow, too, and, examining the water, it appeared to be more shallow than above and below. “Sergeant, I think here is the crossing.” “The same thought was mine, sir.” “Of course, they would have to swim their horses for several hundred yards, but by riding out upon that sand bar which is well above, they would land, forced down by the current, about at this ravine--in fact, if they were swept by, would not land at all.” “If they crossed from this side, sir?” “They would have to ride in yonder above at that break in the bank, and that would bring them on the sand-bar point. I will go there and see if they could get down to the river, while you look down in the ravine for their trail,” and the scout started on his way, to suddenly call out to the sergeant, who was climbing down the ravine: “Here is the trail coming out, and there were a score of them.” The sergeant, at the call of Buffalo Bill, hastened to where he stood. He was passing around the descent to the river between the two ridges, and had found a trail. Reaching the spot, the trail was there, made by all of two dozen horses, they decided after an examination. “It goes straight down the ravine to the river, and was, as you said, the landing when they rode in from the bar.” “Yes, sergeant. “We will leave the boys here and go on to that break up yonder, for there is where I feel sure they must cross, and, if my memory serves me right, there is no other for many a long mile above.” Calling to the scouts to halt there where they were, Buffalo Bill and the sergeant pushed rapidly on to the break in the bank, nearly a mile above. They reached it just as the sun touched the horizon, and a glance showed that it was a ravine like the one below, narrow, rocky, and steep.