if I was you I'd wait right here in Timber City. A
man that ain't used to the range will get lost at night before he's gone
three miles. The chances are you'll never reach the river--and what are
you going to do when you get there?"

"I'm going to cross--somehow. I'm going to find my wife. As for getting
lost, Old Bat is going with me--or rather I'm going with him."

"Bat! What's he doing here?"

"Found out that the Texan had pulled out and came to get him. He knows
Tex better than anyone knows him. He had guessed pretty accurately what
was coming off here today, and he rode over to take the Texan back
home."

Colston nodded: "Go ahead. If Old Bat starts on the trail you'll find
your wife." He laid a hand on Endicott's shoulder, "and just bear in
mind that when you do find her, you'll find her all right! I, too, know
the Texan. He's been more like--like a son to me than an employee. The
boy's got his faults--but he's a man! Barring the possibility of an
accident on the river, you'll find 'em safe an' sound--an', when you do
find 'em, mind you bring 'em both back. You're goin' to need Tex."

Endicott nodded: "I'll remember," he said, "and when we return, you have
the papers ready, and we'll close the deal."

While the barn dogs saddled Endicott's horse, Old Bat led the way to the
alley between the livery barn and the saloon, and throwing himself upon
his belly, lighted matches and studied certain marks on the ground.
Satisfied at length he regained his feet.

"What are you hunting for?" Endicott asked.

"Hoss tracks. Tex, she ain' got hee's own hoss. Me, A'm wan' know w'at
kin' track A'm foller w'en we git 'cross de riv'."

"How are we going to cross?" asked Endicott as they swung along the
trail at a brisk trot.

"We ain' 'cross yet. Firs', we swing down de riv'. We comin' to de
ranch. Plent' ranch on dis side along de riv'. We git de boat."

"But, the horses? We can't take the horses in the boat."

"We com' w'ere we need de hoss we hont de ranch an' git mor' hoss."

At the river they halted for a few moments before heading down stream,
and Endicott shuddered as he gazed out over the drift-choked surface of
the flood. Old Bat devined what was passing in his mind.

"De riv', she look lak hell w'en you stan' an' see her go pas'. But she
ain' so bad she look. W'en de boat git een de wattaire she ron so fas'
lak de res', an' she 'bout de sam' lak she stan' still."

"Yes--but the boat--the heavy ferry--they