This was a sensible course, for, though an Indian cares little for the inconvenience of wading through water of considerable depth, yet he will not do so when there in any practicable means of avoiding it. "You must be careful," added Melville, as he was about to ride into the current, "for there are some deep places which the horse will have to skirt closely. If he steps into one, he will go over his depth, and that will make it bad for you and Dot; I think I had better carry her over with me." "Oogh! Red Feather know holes, 'cause he fall in 'em--mebbe you fall in wid pappoose--how den, eh?" "All right," replied the youth with a smile, as he gave the word to Saladin, who began wading with the same snuffing and care that his kind always show when entering a body of water. His rider was wise enough to decide that the safest course was to leave everything to him, for he had travelled that way often enough to be familiar with its dangers. He narrowly missed plunging into a hole near the other bank, but he saved himself, and finally emerged on the farther shore with his rider dry-shod. "Now, old fellow," said Melville, affectionately patting his head, "go back and bring over Red Feather and Dot. Try not to come as near making a slip as you did with me." [Illustration: "Go back and bring over Red Feather and Dot."] The pony showed his comprehension of the request by stepping at once in the stream and making his way toward the other shore. Long before the little party reached the stream just crossed by Melville night had fully come. The moon did not rise until late in the evening, and the darkness was such that, after parting with Saladin, he saw him vanish when he was no more than half-way across the creek. Of course, therefore, Red Feather and Dot were out of sight altogether. Melville sat down on the sloping bank, with his rifle across his knees, to await the coming of his friend. In the stillness, the slightest sound could be heard a long way. The plashing of the pony's feet as he carefully felt his way through the water was so plain that it was easy to tell every step he took. The youth was looking idly off in the gloom when he observed a rapidly growing light toward the south-east, which you will bear in mind was on the other side of the stream. He watched it for a minute or two, when the cause became apparent. A couple of miles east of the Clarendon home was that of the nearest neighbor. He was without any family, his only companion being a hired man. They had received warning of the impending danger in time to escape, but being well mounted and armed, took a different direction from that leading toward Barwell, whither Mr. Clarendon and his wife hastened. They were gone, but their property remained. The buildings were more extensive than those of Mr. Clarendon, and they had been fired by the Sioux. They created a huge glare which lit up the horizon in every direction.