His own torch went down behind some brush, and that of Joseph Morris quickly followed. Both gazed in the direction the lad was pointing out. It was to the opposite side of the ravine, and there they saw a torch waving slowly from one side to another as if the holder was looking for a safe trail. The torch lit up the faces of two Indians, one leading a horse and the other on a steed’s back.
“Two Indians!” cried Joseph Morris.
“Yes, and that first one is leading Fanny,” returned Dave. “See the white foreleg and the spot on her face?”
“You are right, Dave. Can it be possible those rascals came up in the darkness and stole the horses?”
“I don’t see how they could have them otherwise. Shall I call upon them to halt?”
“No. We had better follow them up. If we call and they see we are on foot, they may ride away from us.”
“But we have our guns.”
“I wouldn’t care to shoot even a redskin unless it was necessary, Dave. Come, we’ll get after them at once.”
“But how are you going to cross the hollow? It’s as black as ink below and maybe full of snakes.”
“We’ll have to go around—I see no other safe way. The Indians went around.”