Then he went up the bank into a thicket of saskatoons. Out of this he
presently emerged, bearing on his shoulders a canoe, old and
weather-beaten, but stanch, for it rode light as a feather on the
stream. Bill seated himself in the canoe, holding to Silk's lead rope.
The other two he left free.
"Now," he directed, "when I start across, you drive Nigger and Satin in
if they show signs of hanging back. Bounce a rock or two off them if
they lag."
Her task was an easy one, for Satin and Nigger followed Silk
unhesitatingly. The river lapped along the sleek sides of them for
fifty yards. Then they dropped suddenly into swimming water, and the
current swept them downstream slantwise for the opposite shore, only
their heads showing above the surface. Hazel wondered what river it
might be. It was a good quarter of a mile wide, and swift.
Roaring Bill did not trouble to enlighten her as to the locality. When
he got back he stowed the saddle and pack equipment in the canoe.
"All aboard for the north side," he said boyishly. And Hazel climbed
obediently amidships.
On the farther side, Bill emptied the canoe, and stowed it out of sight
in a convenient thicket, repacked his horses, and struck out again.
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