d on board, the Indians followed, and then the
boatmen slid the unwieldy craft off the sand-bar. Then, each manning a
clumsy oar, they pulled up-stream. Along shore were whirling, slow
eddies, and there rowing was possible. Out in that swift current it
would have been folly to try to contend with it, let alone make
progress. The method of crossing was to row up along the shore as far
as a great cape of rock jutting out, and there make into the current,
and while drifting down pull hard to reach the landing opposite.
Heavily laden as the boat was, the chances were not wholly in favor of
a successful crossing.

Lucy watched the slow, laborious struggle of the boatmen with the heavy
oars until she suddenly remembered the object of her visit down to the
ford. She appeared to be alone on her side of the river. At the landing
opposite, however, were two men; and presently Lucy recognized Joel
Creech and his father. A second glance showed Indians with burros,
evidently waiting for the boat. Joel Creech jumped into a skiff and
shoved off. The elder man, judging by his motions, seemed to be trying
to prevent his son from leaving the shore. But Joel began to row
up-stream, keeping close to the shore. Lucy watched him. No doubt he
had seen her and was coming across. Either the prospect of meeting him
or the idea of meeting him there in the place where she was never
herself made her want to turn at once and ride back home. But her
stubborn sense of fairness overruled that. She would hold her ground
solely in the hope of persuading Joel to be reasonable. She saw the big
flatboat sweep into line of sight at the same time Joel turned into the
current. But while the larger craft drifted slowly the other way, the
smaller one came swiftly down and across. Joel swept out of the current
into the eddy, rowed across that, and slid the skiff up on the
sand-bar. Then he stepped out. He was bareheaded and barefooted, but it
was not that which made him seem a stranger to Lucy.

"Are you lookin' fer me?" he shouted.

Lucy waved a hand for him to come up.

Then he approached. He was a tall, lean young man, stoop-shouldered and
bow-legged from much riding, with sallow, freckled face, a thin fuzz of
beard, weak mouth and chin, and eyes remarkable for their small size
and piercing quality and different color. For one was gray and the
other was hazel. There was no scar on his face, but the irregularity of
his features reminded one who knew that he