e yelled as a bullet hummed
high above his head and struck sharply against the rock wall.

"Yes," Red replied, coiling the rope. "I was trying to rope that rock
over there. If I could anchor to that, the current would push us over
quick. But it's too far with this wind blowing."

"We can't do nothing here 'cept get plugged. He'll be getting steadier
as he rests from his fight with the water," Hopalong remarked, and added
quickly, "Say, remember that meadow back there a ways? We can make her
from there, all right."

"Yo're right; that's what we've got to do. He's sending 'em nearer every
shot--Gee! I could 'most feel the wind of that one. An' blamed if it
ain't stopped raining. Come on."

They clambered up the slippery, muddy bank to where they had left their
horses, and cantered back over their trail. Minute after minute passed
before the cautious skulker among the rocks across the stream could
believe in his good fortune. When he at last decided that he was alone
again he left his shelter and started away, with slowly weakening
stride, over cleanly washed rock where he left no trail.

It was late in the afternoon before the two irate punchers appeared
upon the scene, and their comments, as they hunted slowly over the hard
ground, were numerous and bitter. Deciding that it was hopeless in that
vicinity, they began casting in great circles on the chance of crossing
the trail further back from the river. But they had little faith in
their success. As Red remarked, snorting like a horse in his disgust,
"I'll bet four dollars an' a match he's swum down the river clean to
hell just to have the laugh on us." Red had long since given it up as
a bad job, though continuing to search, when a shout from the distant
Hopalong sent him forward on a run.

"Hey, Red!" cried Hopalong, pointing ahead of them. "Look there! Ain't
that a house?"

"Naw; course not! It's a--it's a ship!" Red snorted sarcastically. "What
did you think it might be?"

"G'wan!" retorted his companion. "It's a mission."

"Ah, g'wan yoreself! What's a mission doing up here?" Red snapped.

"What do you think they do? What do they do anywhere?" hotly rejoined
Hopalong, thinking about Johnny. "There! See the cross?"

"Shore enough!"

"An' there's tracks at last--mighty wobbly, but tracks just the same.
Them rocks couldn't go on forever. Red, I'll bet he's cashed in by this
time."

"Cashed nothing! Them fellers don't."

"Well, if he's in that joint we