The balsa moved slowly towards the opposite shore and rapidly down stream, the stalwart Irish soldier's feet settling into the loosely bound stems as he poled. Becoming alarmed when he found the water standing above his ankles, he called, in a subdued undertone: [Illustration: "SARGINT FRANK, I BELAVE I SHALL GO THROUGH THIS L'AKY GONDOLA BEFORE WE GET ACRASS."] "Sargint Frank, I belave I shall go through this l'aky gondola before we get acrass." "Take Henry's paddle, Tom. It lies on the right side of the box. Lay it across the reeds and stand on it." "Ah, sure, that's betther! Kape yer ind a little more up-strame, sargint. We'll steer by the avening-star." The distance to the western side slowly lessened. A landing could not be selected where all was dark; that must be left to chance. But chance proved kindly, and the balsa lodged against the shore in the still water of a little cove. The three climbed the bank, and soon began to move upstream. They knew that the ponies, having waded most of the way, had not been carried down much by the current, and must have landed far above them. Vic was cautioned to "watch out," for the pursuers depended upon her scent to show them where the ponies left the water. They had made their way for nearly an hour over a rough and miry river-bottom when the setter paused. She began sniffing the ground to the right and left for a few moments, and then settled to a course, going west for half a mile, and then north, parallel to the river. "She must be on the trail, Tom," said Frank; "but I do not see why the men went upstream." "There's an excillint rayson for that, sargint," said Clary. "One of the routes to the coast is from La Paz, and the ford and landing is nearly opposite the town. The thaves have gone to El Rincon, as the landing is called." The boys and soldier continued to struggle through tangling grass, intertwining bushes, and over uneven ground, until they reached an open space, and saw a light ahead. Bidding Vic drop behind and remain silent, they moved cautiously in its direction, until they came out upon a hard, level, and grassless plat, the river end of the California trail. Across the level, near a clump of cottonwoods, was a fire where Texas Dick and Jumping Jack were plainly visible cooking their supper. On the side of their fire opposite the river were two saddles, upon which rested their rifles and revolvers. Still farther west the two ponies were picketed and grazing. Frank told Henry to go to the ponies and remain there with Vic, while he and Clary moved towards the fire. Screening themselves behind tufts and swells, and lastly behind the saddles, they worked across the level, the sound of their movements being covered by the booming and rushing of the great river. When within twenty yards of the fire, and five from the saddles, Private Tom Clary sprang to his feet, aimed his double-barrelled shot-gun at the thieves, and shouted: "Throw up your arrums!"