in or near the fort, and only a mountain man's vision could make out the parallelogram of stockade and buildings.
"Then we've got by," Lander exulted under his breath.
"By the fort," dryly agreed Bridger, "but we ain't by Kenneth McKenzie yet. We've got to round the Point before we can hit the Yallerstone. We'll be there mighty soon now. That's the danger place."
The Point was the narrow and thumb-shaped stretch of land formed by the river's eccentric course in running south to receive the Yellowstone and then doubling back to the north and east. As they neared the Point the channel narrowed; and, as Bridger had expected, guards were stationed there. Obviously McKenzie was determined to get the boat back.
"Git a light," growled a voice. "Why'n sin don't ye git that fire started?"
"Wal, gimme time," was the snarling rejoinder.
Bridger closed a hand on Lander's wrist and softly whispered:
"We must git by before they start their fire."
The boat glided on. The men on the bank
