The Last of the Plainsmen 



hated water. Emmett and his men calmly unhitched. 

 No trace of alarm, or even of excitement showed in 

 their bronzed faces. 



&quot; We made that fine and easy,&quot; remarked Emmett. 



So I sat down and wondered what Jones and 

 Emmett, and these men would consider really hazard 

 ous. 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. 



&quot; Hyah, Moze! hyah, you Indian! &quot; I yelled, los 

 ing my patience. &quot; You ve already swum the Big 

 Colorado, and this is only a brook. Come on ! &quot; 



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 



16 



