snorted softly
more than once. He heard the tap of the hoofs on the timber of the
bridge, and then they ascended and came in a little while to the lantern
at the door of the gymnasium in the barracks.

"Hello, Hartigan! Where in the world did you come from?" was the cordial
greeting of Colonel Waller.

"Where could I come from but Cedar Mountain?"

"The deuce you did."

"Why not?"

"How did you cross the creek?"

"By the bridge."

"Oh, no, you didn't."

"I surely did," said the Preacher.

"Well, you didn't, because there isn't any bridge. It all went out last
night," was the Colonel's astounding answer.

"Be that as it may," said the Preacher, "I have come here direct from
Cedar Mountain. I left at eight o'clock and here I am, arrived by the
road at eight forty-five; and I crossed the Rapid Fork of the Cheyenne
on the bridge. I didn't see it. I didn't see my horse from start to
finish. I didn't see one inch of the road; but I heard it and felt it.
Anyway, I'm here."

That night the Preacher stayed at the Fort, but he was up at daylight.
So were the officers, for they had laid bets on this matter. They came
to the little canyon, the river, and the place of the bridge; the bridge
was gone; but, yes, surely there was one long stringer left. It had been
held by the bolt at one end, and the officer charged with repairing the
bridge had swung it back into place that very afternoon, and made it
firm to serve as a footbridge, though it was barely twelve inches wide.

There, plainly written in the soft earth, was the story of the crossing.
Blazing Star had descended the bank, and had missed the narrow stringer
by a yard. He had nosed along till he found it and had crossed over on
that with the delicate poise and absolute sense of certainty that would
have been destroyed had the rider tried to give a guiding hand. And the
end would have been sure death had Hartigan not trusted to his horse so
utterly. The best of steed and man had thus begot a creature on a higher
plane--in spirit and effect the centaur of the ancient tale.

CHAPTER XXIV

Red Rover

August was advancing with everything shaping for a great local event.
The Corn Dance of the Indians to celebrate the first of the new crop was
an old festival and brought hundreds of them together. In addition, the
government had selected September fifteenth for the semi-annual issue of
the treaty money. This was a coincidence of festivals that insured a