Tad was off on a trot, stooping well over, with eyes fixed on the foot marks.
"Tad could hunt jack rabbits without a dog, couldn't he?" questioned Stacy innocently. His companions laughed.
"Is that a joke?" asked Ned. "If it is, I'll cry. Your jokes would make a Texas steer weep."
Tad was picking his way up the rough mountain side, now losing the trail, then picking it up again. The marks left by the wild horses were almost indistinguishable after the animals had reached the rocks, but here and there a broken twig told the lad they had passed that way.
Once he appeared to leave the trail, moving sharply to the right, where on a shelving ridge, he straightened up and looked down into the valley.
Tom Parry nodded encouragingly.
"Know what you've found?"
"Yes, this is where the leader came to make another observation," answered Tad.
"That's right. He's a plainsman already, boys. Go on. Run the trail up to the top of this first ridge. It will not be a bad idea for us to know which way they've gone. If the hunters don't show up by to-morrow we can take a little run after the herd on our own hook."
Tad obeyed gladly. Every sense was on the alert. The rest of the boys were all impatience to take part in the hunt. But the guide said no. He feared that, if all were to start up the mountain side, their enthusiasm might lead them too far from camp, resulting in their losing their way. He knew how tricky the trail of a band of wild horses was, the clever animals leaving no ruse untried that would tend to mix up and lose their pursuers.