It certainly proved so, as well as a long one, because we lost much time halting at lonely ranches, and still more in riding in wrong directions; for Lane had evidently picked up somebody, perhaps a contrabandist, well versed in the art of laying a false trail. Neither did he strike straight for the border, and after dividing and joining forces several times, it was late one evening when we found ourselves close behind him.
"Oh, yes! A man like that paid me forty dollars to swap horses with him and his partner, it might be an hour ago," said the last rancher at whose dwelling we stopped. "Seemed in a mighty hurry to reach Montana. How long might it take you to reach the frontier? Well, that's a question of horses, and I've no more in my corral. You ought to get there by daylight, or a little earlier. Follow the wheel trail and you'll see a boundary stake on the edge of the big coulée to the left of it."
Though we had twice changed horses, our beasts were jaded; but there was solace in the thought that Lane was an indifferent rider, and must have almost reached the limits of his endurance, while, though used to the saddle, I was too tired to retain more than a blurred impression of that last night's ride. There was no moon, but the blue heavens were thick with twinkling stars, and the prairie glittered faintly under the white hoar frost. It swelled into steeper rises than those we were used to, while at times we blundered down the crumbling sides of deep hollows, destitute of verdure, in which the bare earth rang metallically beneath the hoofs. Still, the wheel trail led straight towards the south, and, aching all over, we pushed on, as best we could, until I grew too drowsy even to notice my horse's stumbles or to speculate what the end would be. Before that happened, however, I had considered the question and decided that there was no need for any scruples in seizing Lane if the chance fell to me. We had merely promised to refrain from pressing one particular charge against the fugitive, and were willing to keep our bargain, though he on his part had deceived us into making it.
At last, when only conscious of the cruel jolting and the thud of tired hoofs which rose and fell in a drowsy cadence through the silence, Mackay's voice roused me, and I fancied I made out two mounted figures faintly projected against the sky ahead. "Yon's them, and ye'll each do your best. We're distressfully close on the frontier now," he said.
Once more the spurs sank into the jaded beast, and when it responded I became suddenly wide awake. It was bitterly cold and that hour in the morning when man's vitality sinks to its lowest ebb; but one and all braced themselves for the final effort. Boone, in spite of all that I could do, drew out ahead, and we followed as best we might, blundering down into gullies and over rises where the grass grew harsh and high, while thrice we lost the man who led us as well as the fugitives. Nevertheless, they hove into sight again before a league had passed, and it even seemed that we gained a little on the one who lagged behind, until, at last, the blue of the heavens faded, and grayness gathered in the east.
It spread over half the horizon; the two figures before us grew more distinct; and Boone rode almost midway between ourselves and them, when, as though by magic, the first one disappeared. Mackay roared to Cotton when, topping a rise, there opened before us a winding hollow, and Boone, wheeling his horse, waved an arm warningly.
"It's the wrong man doubling. Come on your hardest until the trail forks, and then try left and right!" he shouted before he, too, sank from view beneath the edge of the hollow.
There were birches in the ravine as well as willow groves, and the fugitives had vanished among them, leaving no trace behind. There were, unfortunately, also several trails, and, because time was precious, the noise we made pressing up and down them would have prevented our hearing any sound. Mackay, who in spite of this, sat still listening, used a little illicit language, and rated Cotton for no particular cause, while I had managed to entangle myself in a thicket, when Boone's voice fell sharply from the opposite rise: "Gone away! He has taken to the open!"
With many a stumble we compassed the steep ascent, and, as we gained the summit, the growing light showed me a solitary figure already diminishing down a stretch of level prairie. "It's our last chance!" roared Mackay, pointing to what looked like a break in the grasses ahead. "I'm fearing yon's the boundary."
Our beasts were worn out, their riders equally so; but we called up the last of our failing strength to make a creditable finish of the race. The coulée was left behind us, and Lane's figure grew larger ahead, for Mackay, who certainly did not wish to, declared he could see no boundary post. Then as the first crimson flushed the horizon, a lonely homestead rose out of the grass, and when Lane rode straight for it the sergeant swore in breathless gasps. A little smoke curled from its chimney, for the poorer ranchers rise betimes in that country. We saw Lane drop from the saddle and disappear within the door, while when we drew bridle before it, two gaunt brown-faced men came out and regarded us stolidly.