It is likely the driver did not hear his call. She tried to cramp to the left. The horse, frightened, plunged forward into the deep pool below the ford. The force of the stream swept horse and rig down. The girl screamed and started to rise, appalled by the whirling torrent. Miraculously, a horse and rider appeared beside her. She was lifted bodily from the trap to the arms of a rescuer. For a few moments the cow pony struggled with the waters. It fought hard for a footing, splashed into the shallows nearer shore, and emerged safely at the farther bank. She found herself lifted to the ground and deserted. The Heaven-sent horseman unfastened the rope at his saddle, swung it round his head, and dropped a large loop over the back of the trap. The other end he tied to the pommel of the saddle. The cow pony obeyed orders, braced its legs, and began to pull. The owner of the animal did not wait for results, but waded deep into the river and seized the bridle of the exhausted buggy horse. Even then it was a near thing. The Fryingpan fought with a heavy plunging suction to keep its prey. The man and the horses could barely hold their own, far less make headway against the current. As to the girl, she watched the battle with big, fascinated eyes, the blood driven from her heart by terror. Soon it flashed across her brain that these three creatures of flesh and blood could not win, for while they wore out their strength in vain the cruel river pounded down on them with undiminished energy. She flew to the rope and pulled, digging her heels into the sand for a better purchase. After what seemed to her a long time, almost imperceptibly, at first by fitful starts, the rope moved. McCoy inched his way to the shallower water and a more secure footing. Man, horse, and trap came jerkily to land. Almost exhausted, the cattleman staggered to his bronco and leaned against its heaving flanks. His eyes met those of the girl. Her tremulous lips were ashen. He guessed that she was keeping a tight rein on a hysterical urge to collapse into tears. “It’s all right,” he said, and she liked the pleasant smile that went with the words. “We’re all safe now. No harm done. None a-tall.” “I thought—I was afraid——” She caught her lip between her white teeth. “Sure. Anybody would be. You oughtn’t to have tried the ford. There should be a sign up there. I’ll get after the road commissioners.” Ruth knew he was talking to give her time to recover composure. He went on, casually and cheerfully. “The Fryingpan is mighty deceiving. When she’s in flood she certainly tears along in a hurry. More than one cow-puncher has been drowned in her.” She managed a smile. “I’ve been complaining because I couldn’t find an adventure. This was a little too serious. I thought, one time, that—that you might not get out.” “So you pulled me out. That was fine. I won’t forget it.”