Two of these he shot.
Concealing his meat and his gun near the trail he continued toward the ford half a mile farther up, wondering if Stevens, who was due to cross that day, had got his outfit over.

Not until then did he look at his watch.

He was surprised to find that the Tete Jaune train had been gone three quarters of an hour.

For some unaccountable reason he felt easier.

He went on, whistling.
At the ford he found Stevens standing close to the river's edge, twisting one of his long red moustaches in doubt and vexation.
"Damn this river," he growled, as Aldous came up.