Banion rode down to them.
"How deep ?" he asked.
They understood but would not answer.
"Out of the way!" he cried, and rode straight at them.

They scattered.
He spurred his horse, the black Spaniard, over the stage and on the deck of the scow, drove him its full length, snorting; set the spurs hard at the farther end and plunged deliberately off into the swift, muddy stream.
The horse sank out of sight below the roily surface.

They saw the rider go down to his armpits; saw him swing off saddle, upstream.

The gallant horse headed for the center of the heavy current, but his master soon turned him downstream and inshore.

A hundred yards down they landed on a bar and scrambled up the bank.
Banion rode to the circle and sat dripping.