So he rose up very quickly from his reclining posture and went to the side of the island which faced the river-bank from which he had swum. It was already twilight, but he glanced sharply up and down the bank for some wandering party that might help them. The Indians might be searching for their canoes; he could not expect any of the freighters to come down so far as this, for the main trail turned off some miles above. But not a soul appeared. The only living object on the river-bank which he saw was Chief, quietly grazing. “Then our hope lies in you, faithful old horse!” cried Cody, and he uttered a shrill whistle. The white horse raised his head, whinnied, and trotted down to the water’s edge. Buffalo Bill gave the call which he used when he desired Chief to come to him. The dumb brute understood, but he pawed the gravel at the river’s edge and seemed to hesitate. The distance across was wide, and the sullen current was strong. He had already been in it and had been almost swept away. Buffalo Bill repeated his call. The horse threw up his head, neighed intelligently, and trotted down the riverside to the lower end of the island. There the current was not so swift. Without hesitation, this time, the noble horse plunged into the flood and swam with head high, and occasionally neighing at his master, toward the island. Being untrammeled by saddle or bridle, the creature handled himself remarkably well in the current, and forged ahead without being swept much out of his course by the stream. When he came near the shore, however, Buffalo Bill was forced to rush in, cling to Chief’s mane, and guide the horse to land. There the brute climbed out and shook himself like a great dog. “Ah! the white chief has control over even the ponies,” said the Indian maid, in admiration. “And lucky he does,” muttered Buffalo Bill to himself. “Without old Chief we’d be roosting here till kingdom come!” But he had to give the horse time to breathe before setting him at the current again. It was no easy pull across. Finally he led the white horse down into the water and gave the girl a boost upon his back, where she straddled him, clinging to his thick mane. “Let him have his head,” Buffalo Bill commanded. “He won’t need any guidance, but will bring us both safe ashore.” He urged Chief into the deep water, and swam by his side himself, resting a hand now and then on the beast’s shoulder, and encouraging him with his voice. Tired as they both were, man and beast found the pull tremendous. They were carried some distance down the river, but that did not so much matter. Only the water chilled Cody to the bone, and he had visions of rheumatism, that fell disease that lays hold upon the woodsman early in life because of exposure and privation. It was somewhat of a battle to reach the shore, but they accomplished a landing at last, and White Antelope leaped down from Chief’s back and patted him.