"On a bay horse?"
"On a bay, with a blazed forehead. Why?"
"A man rode by here, last evening, along the trail across the creek. He was dark-complexioned, he wore a black hat, and he rode a bay with a mark on its shoulders like this—" and Ward drew in the dirt a K+.
"That's a K Cross," I exclaimed. And I thought it was right smart of them to notice even the brand. "He's the man, sure. He's shaved off his mustache and whiskers, but he's riding the same horse." And I jumped up. I felt strong and ready again. "Which way did he go?"
Scout Van Sant pointed up the creek. "There's a trail on the other side," he said. "You'll find fresh hoof marks in it."
"Bueno," I said; and I extended my hand to shake with them, for I must light right out. "I'm much obliged for everything, but I've got to catch him. If you meet any of my crowd please tell 'em you saw me and I'm O. K.; and if you're ever in Elk country don't fail to look us up. The lodge door is always open."
"Hold on," laughed Scout Ward. "You can't shoo us this way, unless you'd rather travel alone. What's the matter with our going, too?"
"Sure," said Scout Van Sant.
"But your trail lies down creek, you said."
"Not now. As long as you're in trouble your trail is our trail."