Henry West was watching with a troubled face the foaming stream and the reluctant herd on the opposite side. Bess saw her brother signal the cowboys to cross on the waiting ferry, and then instruct the Indians at which point to swim the cattle and their ponies across. The water was icy cold, and with greatest effort and urging were the steers forced into the stream. Such shouts, and yelling, and riding and driving! Finally the last steer was driven into the water as some of the others were already nearly half-way across. The Indians had flung off their blankets, and with wild and weird shouts, plunged their horses into the water. The snorts of the reluctant animals mingled with the song that went up from the bucks. How the cattle fought against the current which bore them down stream! How the ponies worked, with their burdens now swimming alongside and clinging to their manes! How the Indians shouted now to the horses, now to the cattle, and again to each other! A laugh, almost hideous in its bravado, rent the air, and again the song of courage could be heard above all the confusion. Bess was wild with excitement. She was relieved to see James on the ferry crossing with the cowboys and their horses. She looked for Henry West and discovered him far down on the bank at about the place where the herd would come out. He paced up and down with anxiety, and the girl could feel his care. The first of the cattle had already gained the land, and another—another. Look! there was one which seemed to be losing wind and was being borne downward by the current. Instantly the animal was seen by an Indian, who, in his effort to head off the course, loosened his grip on his pony’s mane and snatched frantically for the floating tail. He grasped it, but not firmly enough, and soon was swimming alone. “Come straight ahead,” called West to the now dazed Indian. The rest, with their ponies and the steers, were clambering up the steep incline of the bank and were entirely oblivious to the danger of their companion, their bodies, all dripping, gleaming like burnished copper in the dazzling sunshine. Springing upon their ponies they rode hurriedly to the approaching ferry, to wrap their naked bodies in the blankets which Fletcher was bringing across. Only West was conscious of the peril of the one Indian, except those on the ferry who had seen the struggle, and Bess, who had ridden Mauchacho down to where West was standing. He kept urging and exhorting the swimmer, who was constantly gaining and nearing the shore. Bess noticed that West had removed his chapps and coat, as if preparing to go to the assistance of the man in the water. “If it were not so icy cold he’d make it all right,” said West, unaware of the girl dismounting near him. In the next instant he had jerked off his boots, flung his sombrero at Bess’ feet and plunged into the foaming water some thirty feet further down the stream than where the Indian was.