They had started down the main trail to Jump-off hill, but now he turned east and circled back to the north, with Allifair close behind him. She, too, had brought a slicker, to protect her from the rain, and beneath her man's hat she looked no different from the cowboys who were scouring the trails in search of them. They rode at a trot as if going to the horse-herd and a galloping Texan, riding back to the house, held up his hand as he went splashing by. But that way was too dangerous and Hall turned to the east, taking the trail that led to the Bassetts'. A black cloud that blotted the east twinkled with flares of heat lightning, the stars seemed to swim through a mist, and as the Bassett dogs rushed out they veered sharply away, taking the trail that led down to Turkey Creek. But there they stopped short for the water, in the pale starlight, seemed to be rushing with resistless force. It rose up in huge waves, smooth and slick as a ground swell but with logs and writhing branches in its grip; and where it crossed the riffles it roared with shuddering thunder and threw up a white comb of foam. "Can we cross it?" she asked at last, and he shrugged his shoulders. "Do you dare to try?" he countered. "I'll follow you anywhere!" she answered, and took off her slicker; but he sat on his horse, irresolute. The very rocks at the bottom of the stream seemed to be grinding and rumbling beneath the flood; and yet in his time he had crossed worse torrents than this, though once he had nearly been drowned. "Can you swim?" he asked, and when she shook her head he turned and looked back across the plain. With the creek roaring in front of them not a hoof-beat could be heard, but he pictured it swarming with horsemen. They would be spurring to the south, knowing that that was where he would flee, but others would be coming to the east; and sooner or later he would have to make a fight, for Miz Zoolah would never give up. She would send out every man, if they had to abandon the horse-herd, to scour the country for Allifair; and, compared to what would follow if he had to give them battle, the creek did not seem so terrible. Its roar was no more than the rush of water past rough snags, the passing of sand-waves through the crests; and if worst came to worst he might reach her and save her if their horses went down among the rocks. "Keep your horse's head upstream," he said at last, "and rein him in if he falls; but if he goes down in spite of you try to catch him by the tail, and in that way he may drag you ashore."