Tad's figure was growing smaller as he ascended higher and higher.
"You don't mean to say that horses climbed up the way he is going!" questioned Walter incredulously.
"That's the way they went, my boy. They 're regular goats when it comes to mountain climbing. They'll go where a man could not, oftentimes."
Tad crept, cautiously on, now finding little to guide him, save his own instinct. He finally disappeared behind the rocks and trees of the low-lying range.
The lad was moving almost noiselessly now. A sound a short distance beyond him caused him to prick up his ears sharply.
"I believe I am near them," he breathed, as he glanced about him. "Why did I not think to bring my rope?"
It was just as well for his own well-being, that he had not brought along that part of his saddle equipment. He was following the trail with the skill of a trained mountaineer. An Indian himself could have done it no better.
Perhaps the guide understood, better than did Tad himself, why he had started the lad on the trail, for a quiet smile hung about the lips of Tom Parry. All at once his twinkling eyes lit up with a new expression.
"Look! Look!" gasped Walter.
"Where? Where?" demanded Ned.