"They look good—but I 'll tell you more about 'em by night," Tex replied. He glanced ahead with calm assurance: "I don't figger he's so very far, Hoppy?"
"Why no, Tex; he could n't ride hard last night, not over strange country—it was darker'n blazes. We did n't leave very long after him when you figger it in miles, an' he ain't reckonin' shore on bein' chased. He drops out th' winder an' sneaks that way 'cause he ain't takin' no chances.
"We 've got th' best cayuses, we 've had more sleep than him, we know this game better, we 're tougher, an' we can get more out of a cayuse than he can. I reckon we ought to get sight of him afore sundown, an' I would n't be surprised if we saw him shortly after noon. We 'll shore get him 'bout noon, if he 's had any sleep."
"I 'd ruther get him this side of Lone Tree Pass—I ain't hankerin' for no close chase through th' mountains after a cuss like Dave," Tex replied. "What do you say 'bout lettin' out another link?"
Hopalong watched his horse for a minute, glanced critically at his companion's, and tightened the grip of his knees. "That feller said a hundred an' forty in ten hours—how far is that pass? Well, might as well find out what this cayuse can do—come on, let 'em go!"
Pounding along at a gait which sent the wind whistling past their ears they dipped into hollows, shot over rises, and rounded turns side by side, stirrups touching and eyes roving as they searched the trail ahead. The turns they made were not as many as those in the trail they followed, for often they cut straight across from one turn to another. The ability to do this brought a shrewd smile to Hopalong's thin lips.
"Let his cayuse pick its way, Tex—told you he could n't go fast last night. Bet a dollar we come to where he slept afore long—an' say! luck 's with us, shore. Notice how he was bearin'—a little off th' course all th' time—that gray of his must a' come from som'ers up north. He had to correct that when he could see where th' Pass lay—come on, we 'll try another cut-off, an' a big one."
"Yo 're right—we 'll gain a hour, easy," Tex replied as they shot off at a tangent for the distant mountain range on a line for the Pass. The sun was two hours higher when Tex laughed aloud, stretching his hand across his friend's horse and pointing some distance ahead of him. "There's th' track again, Hoppy," he cried, "you was right—see it?"
Hopalong waited until they swept up along the fresh trail before he replied and the reply was characteristic of him. "Pushin' th' gray hard, Tex. Them toe prints are purty deep—an' d—d if th' gray ain't havin' trouble with his bad laig! See that off fore hoofmark? See how it ain't as deep as its mate? Th' gray's favorin' that laig, an' only for one reason: it hurts him more when he don't. Move away a little, Tex; don't do no good to be bunched so close where there 's so much cover. He ain't a long way off, judgin' from them tracks. We don't know that he ain't doubled back to pick us off as we near him."
Tex tightened his knee-grip and rowelled his spurs lightly along the side of his mount, darting ahead with Hopalong speeding up to catch him. It was a test to see how the horses were holding up and when the animals took up the new speed and held it with plenty of reserve strength, the two men let them go.