. He regained his feet, and plunged on. Spurred by
fear, the horses increased their efforts, and amid clouds of spray,
galloped the remaining distance to the other side.

Jones looked disgusted. Like all plainsmen, he hated water. Emmett and
his men calmly unhitched. No trace of alarm, or even of excitement
showed in their bronzed faces.

"We made that fine and easy," remarked Emmett.

So I sat down and wondered what Jones and Emmett, and these men would
consider really hazardous. I began to have a feeling that I would find
out; that experience for me was but in its infancy; that far across the
desert the something which had called me would show hard, keen,
perilous life. And I began to think of reserve powers of fortitude and
endurance.

The other wagons were brought across without mishap; but the dogs did
not come with them. Jones called and called. The dogs howled and
howled. Finally I waded out over the wet bars and little streams to a
point several hundred yards nearer the dogs. Moze was lying down, but
the others were whining and howling in a state of great perturbation. I
called and called. They answered, and even ran into the water, but did
not start across.

"Hyah, Moze! hyah, you Indian!" I yelled, losing my patience. "You've
already swum the Big Colorado, and this is only a brook. Come on!"

This appeal evidently touched Moze, for he barked, and plunged in. He
made the water fly, and when carried off his feet, breasted the current
with energy and power. He made shore almost even with me, and wagged
his tail. Not to be outdone, Jude, Tige and Don followed suit, and
first one and then another was swept off his feet and carried
downstream. They landed below me. This left Ranger, the pup, alone on
the other shore. Of all the pitiful yelps ever uttered by a frightened
and lonely puppy, his were the most forlorn I had ever heard. Time
after time he plunged in, and with many bitter howls of distress, went
back. I kept calling, and at last, hoping to make him come by a show of
indifference, I started away. This broke his heart. Putting up his
head, he let out a long, melancholy wail, which for aught I knew might
have been a prayer, and then consigned himself to the yellow current.
Ranger swam like a boy learning. He seemed to be afraid to get wet. His
forefeet were continually pawing the air in front of his nose. When he
struck the swift place, he went downstream like a flash, but still kept
swimming valiantly