"Say!" snorted Doubleday. "What is this, anyway? Do you fellers know there's some Injuns up here a piece?"
But Loudon had joined Telescope and neither of the two gave the slightest heed to the outraged Doubleday.
"Look!" exclaimed Laguerre, as the tail of the column passed. "Look! Yore hoss she come out o' de wood here! See!"
"My hoss! You mean Ranger?" Loudon stared, thunderstruck, at the hoofmarks of two horses.
"Yore hoss, Ranger! Ah, once I see de hoss-track I know heem again! Las' tam you shoe de hoss you shoe heem all 'roun'. Dees ees hees track. No man was ride heem. She was de led hoss. Feller ride odder hoss. See! Dey come out de wood un go dees way."
Telescope waved a hand over the way they had come.
"How old are the tracks?" queried Loudon, breathlessly.
"Mabbeso four day. No use follow dem. We lose 'em on de hard groun'."
"Telescope, I got an idea somethin's wrong. I dunno what, but these tracks comin' in here thisaway, an' that fellah with the Injun story--I guess now they hitch somehow. I tell yuh I dunno how"--as Telescope opened his mouth to speak--"an' I may be wrong, but I'm goin' back after that party from Hatchet Creek."
Loudon swung into his saddle and spurred his mount. The animal responded gamely, but a pitifully slow lope was the best speed it could shake out of its weary legs. Laguerre's pony was in worse case. The short halt had stiffened his knees slightly and he stumbled at every other step. The two men lolloped jerkily downstream. Rounding a sharp bend, they came in sight of the cut bank where the dusty stranger had dropped his gun. Neither man nor horse was visible.
Just then his horse stumbled for the last time, fell on its knees, and rolled over on its side. Laguerre flung himself clear and bounced to his feet. The pony struggled up, but Laguerre did not remount. He dragged his rifle from the scabbard and ran forward on foot to rejoin his comrade. Loudon was leaning over the saddlehorn examining the spot where the dusty man had left his horse.
"Ground's kind o' hard," said Loudon, "but it looks like he'd headed for that flat."
"He go dere all right!" exclaimed Laguerre, excitedly. "Come on, Tom!"
Running awkwardly, for cow-country boots are not fashioned for rapid locomotion, Laguerre led the way toward a broad meadow fifty yards away. Once in the meadow the trail was easier to follow. The meadow was at least a quarter-mile wide, and woods bordered it on three sides.