Lowiez, he of the keen eye, had been doing some scrutinizing on his own account, and read an explanation by certain marks on the flinty ground.
Addressing the sergeant, he briefly disposed of the puzzle:
“Horses here not long since; the men we have been trailing went no further on foot. That is why these beasts are out of the running.”
“Cossacks, I’ll be bound,” exclaimed Strogoff.
“On that theory, sergeant,” continued Lowiez, “we have two surmises, one that the band was on the way to the nearest army command, and the other that they were free riders and traveling as the wind listeth. In either event, does our service extend so far?”
“The arm of the Russian police system,” proudly declared Strogoff, “has no limit within the realm of the Czar. And, too, our special mission is backed by both civil and military authority.”
“As you will,” conceded Lowiez; “it is needless to state that I am with you to the death.”
Turning to Petro, the sergeant said:
“As the dogs can no longer be of use, and as it is practically impossible to safely carry them in the aircraft, I must bid you back with them to the dispatch boats, which had orders to await, for a period of three days, our return.”
Without comment, the master of hounds faced about and started on his long march, with the dogs capering at his heels.