Then it was that Seth rose from his hiding-place. He stood watching the going of these men until he had made sure of the direction they were taking. They were making for the river ford, and he instantly ran back to his horse and mounted. Just for a second he hesitated. Then he set off for the wagon bridge as fast as he could urge his horse. It was late the same afternoon that Charlie Rankin rode up to the River Farm and greeted Rube, who was hard at work upon the stockade. He was a large, cheery Britisher, with a florid face and ready laugh. He drew up with a jerk, sprang to the ground, and began talking with the perfect freedom of long friendship. "I've passed the word, Rube," he said, without any preamble. "It's gone the round by this time. I thought I'd run over and consult you about the womenfolk. I'm new to this work. You are an old bird. I thought of sending the missis into Beacon." Rube paused in his work and surveyed the horizon, while, in his slow way, he wiped the perspiration from his weather-furrowed face. "Howdy, Charlie," he said, without displaying the least concern. "Wal, I don't know. Y' see this thing's li'ble to fizzle some. We've had 'em before. Guess my missis an' the gal'll stay right here by us. I 'low I feel they're safer wi' us. Mebbe it's jest a notion. If things gits hummin' I'd say come right along over an' share in wi' us. Y' see if it's a case of git, we'd likely do better in a party. Seth's away jest now." The old man's quiet assurance was pleasant to the less experienced farmer. There was soundness in his plans too. Charlie nodded. "That's good of you. Of course, we've got the warning, but we don't know how far things are moving. Do you?" "Wal, no. But I don't think ther's anything to worry over fer a week or two." "I thought there couldn't be, because I saw your Rosebud riding down toward the river as I came along. And yet----" But Rube broke in upon him vehemently. "Goin' to the river?" he cried. Then his usual slow movements suddenly became electrical. He strode away to the barn, and left Charlie to follow. "What's up?" the latter asked, as he paused in the doorway. "Up? Up? What's up?" The old man was saddling a big raw-boned mare with almost feverish haste. "She's no right goin' that aways. An' I promised Seth, too. I didn't know but what she wus in the kitchen. Here, fix that bridle while I get into the house. Ha' y' got your gun?" "Yes; but why?" "Wal--y' never can figger to these durned Injuns when they're raisin' trouble." The old man was off like a shot, while Charlie fixed the great mare's bridle. He returned almost immediately armed with a brace of guns. "Say, ken y' spare an hour or so?" As Charlie looked into the old farmer's face when he made his reply he read the answer to all he would have liked to ask him. Rube was consumed with an anxiety that no words, delivered in his slow fashion, could have conveyed to any one but Seth. "Certainly, as long as you like."