The stream was less than a hundred yards wide and the current not swift. The water was roiled to that extent that the bottom could be seen only a few paces from shore, but the slope was so gradual that the rancher was hopeful that the horse would be able to wade it. He scanned the water and finally turned to his wife with a smile: "Where do you think we had better try it, Molly?" "I know of no way of learning the depth of water except by test," she replied; "if it were clearer, we could make use of our eyes." "I wonder if it is clearer up yonder," he remarked, looking at a clump of bushes above them and some rods in extent. "It strikes me that it may be; anyway, I will find out." Instead of riding to the spot he dismounted, and, rifle in hand, walked the short distance necessary. As he did so, naturally he gave more heed to the stream than to his footsteps, for it was the former in which his interest lay. Dot laughed merrily when he stumbled, and he looked about and shook his head in mock anger at her. The bushes he approached were no more than three or four feet in height, not very dense, and continued with straggling interruptions as far as the eye could trace the winding stream. Mrs. Starr, who was attentively watching her husband, saw him pause on reaching the stunted growth. He looked at the water and then at the bushes. Then he suddenly leaped back with an exclamation and came hastening to his wife, his white face and staring eyes showing that he had made a horrifying discovery. CHAPTER X. BENT ARM AND HIS BAND. George Starr was so agitated that, forgetting the presence of his little child, he impulsively spoke the truth, while yet a few paces away: "Plummer is in those bushes." "Is he----" Mrs. Starr hesitated with the dreadful word unuttered. "Yes; he is dead; killed by the Indians!" The wife gave a gasp, and the husband added: "The poor fellow lies stretched out, stark and stiff, where he was shot down by the Sioux. He must have been killed shortly after leaving the house." "Where is his horse?" "I suppose it has been stolen. It is a sad thing, but poor Plummer is with his Maker; it won't do for us to wait any longer; I don't understand how we have escaped thus far, for we are in greater danger than I had supposed. We must cross the stream without delay, even if we have to swim our horses." "I am ready," said Mrs. Starr calmly; "lead the way." "I hope it will not be necessary to subject you and Dot to the trial, but there is not a minute to spare." With his lips compressed, the rancher hastily remounted his pony and turned his head toward the water. "Let me keep in advance," he said, "and you can tell what to do." The obedient horse sniffed the water, but, without hesitation, stepped in, sinking to his knees within a yard of the bank.