“I cannot be sure, but I suspect they are Mr. Ruggles and Mr. Brush.”
“I have no doubt you are right,––not because I was able to identify them, but because the two are partners and your father would naturally go to them first. I do not think any one of the four has a glass, so, despite their sharp eyes, we have a big advantage in that respect.”
“But they know the route better than we, and we are losing time.”
The course of the trail took them out of the field of vision of their pursuers. It was at the suggestion of Russell that the two turned aside from the cañon into the fissure-like gorge. This would have been a serious mistake, except for the plan he had in view, for it must place the pursuers in advance, the very thing which it would seem the fugitives ought if possible to prevent.
The lieutenant had believed from the first that Vose Adams, in threading his way through the mountains, traveled a good many miles more than was necessary. It was quite likely that, if he could follow a straight line, he would shorten the distance one-half. Although this was impossible, the young man, nevertheless, was convinced that by changing the route, a good many miles could be saved: and it was in his mind to do that thing.
The lieutenant’s experience in campaigning had taught him the danger of going astray, when picking his way through an unfamiliar country, but the little compass attached as a charm to his watch chain would help him to keep track of the variations and windings, and he was confident of coming out right. He and Nellie were well mounted and armed, all of which being impressed upon his companion, she offered no objection to the radical change of plan which took them out of the cañon into the ravine that led them they knew not whither, but it was ominous of disaster that at the top of the fissure, when the two were leading their animals, a grievous mishap occurred. The pony of Nellie slipped and sprained his ankle so badly that he whined with pain and paused with his weight supported on three legs.
