An hour's rapid walking brought the three to
the river. Depositing his rifle in a clump of willows, and directing
the boys to do the same with their guns, the hunter splashed into
the water. His companions followed him into the shallow water, and
waded a hundred yards, which brought them near the island that they
now perceived hid the fort. The hunter swam the remaining distance,
and, climbing the bank, looked back for the boys. They were close
behind him. Then he strode across the island, perhaps a quarter of a
mile wide.
"We've a long swim here," said Wetzel, waving his hand toward the
main channel of the river. "Good fer it?" he inquired of Joe, since
Jim had not received any injuries during the short captivity and
consequently showed more endurance.
"Good for anything," answered Joe, with that coolness Wetzel had
been quick to observe in him.
The hunter cast a sharp glance at the lad's haggard face, his
bruised temple, and his hair matted with blood. In that look he read
Joe thoroughly. Had the young man known the result of that scrutiny,
he would have been pleased as well as puzzled, for the hunter had
said to himself: "A brave lad, an' the border fever's on him."
"Swim close to me," said Wetzel, and he plunged into the river. The
task was accomplished without accident.
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