"Forty-five!" answered Ned and Walter at the same time.
"What do you say, Master Tad?"
"I am afraid I must have missed some, then. I only make out twenty-one old ones and a colt. I take it the old mare was with the colt, for the prints show that the little animal was hugging the other closely," was Tad's decision.
"Very good. Very good," nodded Parry. "There were twenty-two. You didn't get the trailer, probably an old mare. She traveled along off to the right yonder a little. But I should like to know how you made fifty, Master Stacy!" twinkled the guide.
"Counted 'em," answered the fat boy.
"Show me?"
Stacy did so, going over the hoofprints carefully, pointing to them with his index finger as he did so, the guide making mental calculations at the same time.
"And that makes fifty—fifty—fifty-four this time. There's more of them than I thought."
Parry laughed softly.
"I'm afraid you'd make a poor Indian, young man. You not only have counted the hoof-prints, but you have counted the foot marks of yourself and your companions as well. Master Tad, let me see if you can run the trail up the mountain side a little way. It will be good practice. I want you boys to be able to follow a trail as keenly as the best of them before you have finished this trip. You never know when it's going to be useful—when it's going to get you out of serious difficulties, even to the extent of saving your lives."