“Okay,” Warner said, well pleased. “Then let’s hit the trail. No time is to be lost if we’re going to overtake Walz.”
For hours, the party trudged on. They passed the water line into an area where the trees were twisted into grotesque shapes before they thinned out to only occasional trunks. Higher up, timber disappeared entirely. The air became light and chilly.
War and Willie were hard pressed to keep up with the others. Despite their fatigue, Warner had to keep on, for it was growing late and the area offered no suitable camp site.
On the other slope of the mountain the descent was easier, but by the time the rancher finally called a halt on a rock shelf above a racing stream, everyone was worn out.
“How do you figure Walz has managed to come this far?” Willie muttered, dropping his pack. “I never thought he had it in him.”
“Maybe we’ve lost him,” Jack replied. “We’ve not seen a trace of him or his guide since we left Elks Creek this morning.”
While the others busied themselves making camp, Jack and Warner scanned the ravines and mountainside with the powerful field glass.
“See any smoke?” the rancher asked.
Jack lowered the glass. “No trace of a camp. But I thought you said this was uninhabited country.”
“It is.”