As it chanced, we
struck a deep channel at the send-off, and the horses were at once
separated. The girl was swept out of her saddle, but before I could
render any assistance she called out not to be alarmed. I saw that she
was swimming, down stream from the horse, with one hand on the pommel.
Without much concern, she reached footing on the bar at which the horse
scrambled up.
"Now I'm good and wet," laughed she. "It won't make any difference after
this. I see now how the squaws do."
We plunged on across the stream, keeping our saddles for most of the
way, sometimes in shallow water, sometimes on dry, sandy bars, and now
and again in swift, swirling channels; but at last we got over and fell
upon the steaks of buffalo and the hot coffee which we found at the
fire. The girl presently left us to make such changes in her apparel as
she might. Mandy and I were left alone once more.
"It seems to me like it certainly is too bad," said she bitterly, over
her pipe stem, "that there don't seem to be no real man around nowhere
fittin' to marry a real woman. That gal's good enough for a real man,
like my first husband was."
"What could he do?" I asked her, smiling.
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