Still, at nearly a mile in advance of his pursuers, the guide rounded the hill, and reached the river side. Dismounting, he struck the horse a sharp blow, and thus turned him loose. True to his plans, Ebenezer dashed madly away up the river, toward the nearest clump of timber, with a wild snort of alarm and pain. Running along a few yards in an opposite direction, Maxwell crouched down in a rocky hollow, with a fast-beating heart and an anxious face. He knew that, was his ruse discovered too soon, his life would be forfeited, beyond all doubt. True, he still held his rifle and revolvers, but what would his one arm avail against those of over three-score savages? He saw the mustang disappear behind the _motte_, at full speed, and hoped that his pursuers had not yet gained a position from whence they could note the absence of its rider. If they had not, then he felt that he was safe. Then the enemy spurred swiftly by, following keenly upon the plain trail, without a pause or single glance around the point. Then they, too, passed behind the timber island. Chuckling heartily, Tom arose and entering the water, ran lightly along its edge, until he came to a small log, lying upon the shore. Rolling this into the water, the guide secured his rifle upon it, and then entering the swift current, swam rapidly down-stream, pushing the float before him, thus keeping his gun and powder dry. As he came in view of the wagon-train, he uttered a loud, clear shout, and leaving the water, ran lightly toward the camp, which was all confusion. “What is it, Tom? Where’s your horse?” excitedly asked the major, as he met the old scout. “Boun’ for Salt Lake, takin’ a wheen o’ pesky red-skins to visit ol’ Brigham!” “What do you mean?” “Jest what I say. But we hain’t got no time to talk now—thar’s work to be did. Dusky Dick an’ a wheen o’ red imps is on the rampage, red-hot fer ha’r, an’ ’ll pay us a visit afore sun-up to-morry.” “How do you know?” anxiously queried Calhoun. “’Ca’se I see’d ’em. Don’t jabber—_work!_” impatiently added Tom, as he entered the little corral. He glanced around, anxiously taking in every detail, and then added, in a voice of disgust: “What on airth was you fellers a-thinkin’ about, anyhow? Don’t you see you’d orter bin out yander, away from the river? They kin swim down in the dark, an’ take us in the r’ar, now. But it’s too late to mend _that_ now, so do as I do. They’ll be here in less’n a-nour now, fer they’ll know we’re on the look-out, soon’s they find Ebenezer.” The corral had been formed close to the river-bank, in a half-circle, and in the usual manner; that is, in two rows of wagons, the one covering the joints in the other. By Tom Maxwell’s directions, the wheels were let down in holes hastily dug, so that the axles rested upon the prairie, and the openings were still further barricaded by articles taken from the wagons.