"Well," said Bush, "I only hope we don't lose their trail."
So far the trail had been plain, the hoof marks on it visible. But on bad ground this would not be the case. There would be no trail, in the sense of a path, and the trail in the sense of hoof-marks might disappear entirely. Therefore it was important to ascertain if they could the line of flight, so that if signs temporarily ceased there might be a possibility of finding them again further on.
But in the morning the trail of the fugitives led straight to the ford, crossed it and held up the farther side. They came to the mouth of Copper Creek, a delta with much gravel wash, but the trail of the fugitives, in place of turning the Copper, led straight on up the valley trail. A couple of miles on, just after crossing a patch of rocky ground, Turkey who was in the lead pulled up and dismounted.
"What's the matter, kid?" Bush asked.
"Matter!" Turkey exclaimed. "Why there isn't a shod horse in this bunch of tracks we're following."
Investigation showed that Turkey was right. They had been riding on the tracks of unshod horses, presumably of an Indian hunting party. And as they had trampled on these with their own shod horses it was going to be hard to ascertain just how far they had gone on this false trail. But Rennie had his own idea of a short cut.
"They made the side jump somewheres on these here rocks," he said. "They figgered we'd go hellin' along on the tracks of them barefoots. Now this bad ground is the end of that there shoulder you see, and she runs back and dips down on the other side to the Copper."
"Sounds reas'nable," Bush admitted, "Then we go back to the Copper."
The two were standing together apart from the others.
"Look over there," said Rennie, "and line up this rock with that lone cottonwood. What do you see?"