CHAPTER XVI
When Thomson Tuttle and Nick Ellhorn reached the little canyon in the Oro Fino mountains they saw that the two would-be kidnappers must have been there since Wellesly’s departure for three of the four horses were quietly grazing, with hobbled feet, beside the rivulet. They speculated upon what the absence of the fourth horse might mean while they staked their own beasts and started on the trail of the two men. Up the larger canyon a little way they saw buzzards flying low and heavily.
“That looks as if one of ’em was dead,” said Nick.
“It would be just like the scrubs,” Tom grumbled, “for both of ’em to go and die before we get a pop at ’em. I want to see the color of their hair just once. Confound their measly skins, they might have got Emerson into a worse scrape than this Whittaker business.”
They were both silent for some moments, watching the buzzards as they swooped low over some dark object on the floor of the canyon. As they came nearer they saw that the dead thing on which the birds were feeding was the missing horse.
“They killed it for meat,” said Nick, pointing to a clean cut which had severed one hind leg from the body.
“Yes, and not so very long ago, either,” Tom assented, “or the buzzards wouldn’t have left this much flesh on it, and it would be dried up more.”
“Say, Tom, they brought this beast up here to kill it, and they sure wouldn’t have brought it so far away if they had wanted the meat down there in that canyon. They must have changed camp.”
“Then there’s water higher up. They’re in here yet, Nick, and we’ll find ’em. We must keep our eyes and ears peeled, so they can’t get the first pop.”