"They can't make any further use of the burro, and have allowed him to go home."
"But they can't carry away all the gold."
"Then they are burying it. Let's hurry on, or we shall be too late."
Lowering his Winchester, Frank led the way up the trail, slackening his pace as he reached the bend, and partly raising his weapon again.
Rocks and bowlders were all around, but the trail still showed, and the donkey could have travelled indefinitely forward, so far as the boys could see. Nowhere was anything detected of the two men.
"They may have turned the burro loose a half mile off," said Frank, chagrined and disappointed beyond expression.
His companion warned him to be careful, as he began pushing forward at a reckless rate, as if fearful that the men would get away after all.
Just beyond the point where the burro had appeared the path forked, each course being equally distinct. The boys scrutinized the ground, but could not decide from what direction the animal had come. Had they possessed the patience, they might have settled the question by kneeling down and making their scrutiny more minute; but Frank could not wait.
"I'll take the right," he said, "while you follow the left. If you discover either of them, shoot and shout for me."
It may be doubted whether this was wise counsel, and Roswell did not feel himself bound by it, but he acted at once upon the suggestion. His weapon was in his grasp as he hurried over the path, and the cousins were quickly lost to each other.