He kept telling himself that it was just imagination, that it would wear off in time.
Still in his heart he did not believe what he hoped.

But he would not give up; he would not accept the ghost of his victim as a reality.
Gray dawn found him in the saddle again headed for the river.

Half an hour of riding brought him to the dense chaparral and willow thickets.
These he threaded to come at length to the ford.

It was a gravel bottom, and therefore an easy crossing.

Once upon the opposite shore he reined in his horse and looked darkly back.