Again he stumbled on, soon getting into the water up to his waist. In fresh
alarm he found his way out of the torrent and next encountered some thick,
wiry bushes where further progress seemed out of the question.

"Beats all, how things are goin' crosswise," he muttered, as he paused to
get his breath. "An' all along o' thet confounded buffalo, too. Reckon he's
miles an' miles away by this time," and in this surmise the old
frontiersman was correct.

An hour's search convinced him that Henry was no longer in that vicinity.
But what had become of the youth was a mystery.

"He wouldn't walk away without lettin' me know," reasoned Barringford.
"Must be he fell into the water and got drowned and somethin' is holdin'
him under. One thing is sartin, if thet's so tain't no use to try to find
him afore mornin'. Might as well go back to camp an' break the news."

But he was unwilling to go back, and again and again he called Henry's
name, listening with all the acuteness of which his trained sense of
hearing was capable. Only the rushing of the torrent and the dripping of
the rain answered him.

"No use," he muttered. "He is gone an' thet is all there is to it. I've got
to face the music and tell the others, though it's worse nor pullin' teeth
to do it."

Getting out of the gully in the almost total darkness was now truly
difficult, and had not Barringford been skilled in woodcraft he would
certainly have been lost. But he had taken note of the way he had come and