Wheesh!"

The final exclamation, uttered in an altered tone, is accompanied by a
start--the hunter suddenly raising his head from the saddle on which it
rests. Nor has the act any relation to his previous speeches. It comes
from his hearing a sound, or fancying he hears one. At the same
instant, the hound pricks up its ears, giving utterance to a low growl.

"What is't, I wonder?" interrogates Woodley, in a whisper, placing
himself in a kneeling posture, his eyes sharply set upon the dog.

Again the animal jerks its ears, growling as before.

"Take clutch on the critter, Charley! Don't let it gie tongue."

Clancy lays hold of the hound, and draws it against his knees, by speech
and gesture admonishing it to remain silent.

The well-trained animal sees what is wanted; and, crouching down by its
master's feet, ceases making demonstration.

Meanwhile Woodley has laid himself flat along the earth, with ear close
to the turf.

There is a sound, sure enough; though not what he supposed he had heard
just before. That was like a human voice--some one laughing a long way
off. It might be the "too-who-ha" of the owl, or the bark of a prairie
wolf. The noise now reaching his ears is less ambiguous, and he has no
difficulty in determining its character. It is that of water violently
agitated--churned, as by the hooves of horses.

Clancy, standing erect, hears it, too.

The backwoodsman does not remain much longer prostrate; only a second to
assure himself whence the sound proceeds. It is from the ford. The dog
looked that way, on first starting up; and still keeps sniffing in the
same direction.

Woodley is now on his feet, and the two men standing close together,
intently listen.

They have no need to listen long; for their eyes are above the tops of
the bushes that border the river's bank, and they see what is disturbing
the water.

Two horses are crossing the stream. They have just got clear of the
timber's shadow on the opposite side, and are making towards mid-water.

Clancy and Woodley, viewing them from higher ground, can perceive their
forms, in _silhouette_, against the shining surface.

Nor have they any difficulty in making out that they are mounted. What
puzzles them is the manner. Their riders do not appear to be anything
human!

The horses have the true equine outline; but they upon their backs seem
monsters, not men; their bodies of unnatural breadth, each with two
heads rising above