They set about the search, but found nobody, and George stopped outside the last building with a puzzled frown on his face.
"It's very strange," he said. "I left the door shut; I couldn't be mistaken."
"Look!" cried Grierson, clutching his arm. "There's no mistaking about that!"
Turning sharply, George saw a dim mounted figure cross the crest of a low rise some distance away and vanish beyond it.
"The fellow must have run straight for the poplar scrub, keeping the house between you and him," Grierson explained. "He'd have left his horse among the brush."
"I suppose that was it," George said angrily. "As there's no chance of overtaking him, we'll have a look at the horses, with a light, and then let Flett know."
There was nothing wrong in the stable, where they found the lantern George had looked for flung down in the empty stall, and in a very short space of time after they had called him Flett appeared. He walked round the buildings and examined some of the footprints with a light, and then he turned to George.
"Looks like an Indian by his stride," he said. "Guess I'll have to saddle up and start."
"You could hardly come up with the fellow; he'll have struck into one of the beaten trails, so as to leave no tracks," Edgar pointed out.
"That's so," said Flett. "I don't want to come up with him. It wouldn't be any use when your partner and Grierson couldn't swear to the man."