Hamlin bent forward on his knees, striving with keen eyes, sharpened by his night’s experience, to learn more of what lay before them.  The movement, slight as it was, served to frighten her, and she grasped him by the sleeve.

“Do not leave me; do not go away,” she implored swiftly.  “Whatever you say is best, I will do.”

CHAPTER IX

ACROSS THE RIVER

He dropped his hand upon hers, clasping the clinging fingers tightly.

“Yes, we can make it,” he answered confidently.  “Wait until I make sure what is out there.”

He had slight recollection of the stream at this point, although he had crossed it often enough at the known fords, both above and below.  Yet these crossings had always been accomplished with a horse under him, and a knowledge of where the trail ran.  But he knew the stream, its peculiarities and dangers.  It was not the volume of water, nor its depth he feared, for wide as it appeared stretching from bank to bank, he realized its shallow sluggishness.  The peril lay in quicksand, or the plunging into some unseen hole, where the sudden swirl of water might pull them under.  Alone he would have risked it recklessly, but with her added weight in his arms, he realized how a single false step would be fatal.  The farther shore was invisible; he could perceive nothing but the slight gleam of water lapping the sand at his feet, as it flowed slowly, noiselessly past, and beyond, the dim outline of a narrow sand ridge.  Even this, however, was encouragement, proving the shallowness of the stream.  He turned about, his face so close he could see her eyes.

“We shall have to try it, Miss McDonald; you must permit me to carry you.”

“Yes.”

“And whatever happens do not scream—­just cling tight to me.”

“Yes,” a little catching in her throat.  “Tell me first, please, just what it is you fear.”

“Quicksand principally; it is in all these western rivers, and the two of us together on one pair of feet will make it harder to pull out of the suck.  If I tell you to get down, do so quickly.”

“Yes.”

“Then there may be holes out there in the bottom.  I don’t mind those so much, although these cavalry boots are no help in swimming.”

“I can swim.”

“Hardly in your clothes; but I am glad to know it, nevertheless.  You could keep afloat at least, and the holes are never very large.  Are you ready now?”

She gave him her hands and stood up.  The Sergeant drew in a long breath and transferred the haversack to her shoulder.

“We ’ll try and keep that from getting soaked, if we can,” he explained.  “There is no hotel over in those sand-hills.  Now hold on tight.”

He swung her easily to his broad shoulder, clasping her slender figure closely with one arm.

“That’s it!  Now get a firm grip.  I ’ll carry you all right.”