The experience up the trail with Dawson’s horse had taught him a lesson. He remembered that a horse has very keen eyesight, could see in the dark, and could also hear and smell much better than a man. It would be necessary to steer clear of the horses. He circled far out to the left and crawled as cautiously as an Indian. A turned over stone or a slip of any kind might be fatal to the whole enterprise now. It was slow, tiresome work, but intensely exciting. When the slope of the ground and the stars told him that he was about opposite the place where he started he slowly closed in on the trail. He was moving almost by inches now and stopping every few feet to listen. There was not a sound to guide him.
Suddenly Dawson struck a match to light his pipe. It was not more than fifteen feet to one side. It seemed to Scott like a coast defense search light. He could see Dawson so plainly, sitting comfortably on the ground with his back against an aspen tree, that it seemed as though Dawson must see him. He crouched as flat as he could and would have dug into the ground if he had been a badger. It never occurred to him that the match had effectually blinded Dawson to everything around him. It made him shudder to think that if his direction had been a little more accurate he would have been right on top of that silent figure before he struck the match.
Scott started backing up inch by inch to avoid the possibility of getting in Jed’s path. He had hardly gained what he considered to be a safe position when he heard the soft thud of unshod hoofs and saw a dark shadow looming up through the brush in the direction of the trail. He had become so accustomed to the starlight that he could see pretty well now. The newcomer rode straight toward the little tree where Dawson was sitting, dismounted about twenty feet away and strode over there.
It was Jed Clark, and Scott could see, even in that uncertain light that he was in an ugly mood.
“Fine night for a party,” Dawson ventured by way of greeting.
Jed answered with a burst of profanity. “Fine mess that saintly patrolman of yours has gotten us into, too. That fellow is too good for this world and if I get a good chance I’ll send him up where he belongs.”