"Nick Grylls's big roan," she answered. "They mak' a bag for her to sit in. She sit one side; Mary Co-que-wasa sit the other."
"Find the roan's tracks," ordered Garth.
Rina shook her head. "I never follow that horse," she said.
"Find the heaviest tracks then!"
She obediently wheeled her horse; and searched the turf again; riding around them in wide fanlike sweeps, while Garth waited with a deadly patience. At last she struck off to the northwest, calling to them, and Garth and Charley spurred after.
"'Erbe't, Mary and her, go this way," she said briefly, as they came up. "Nick Grylls take six horse west, and Xavier take four by coulée."
"If we can overtake her before the others come up!" muttered Garth.
Rina, looking at their horses, shrugged significantly.
For half an hour they loped over the prairie without speech. A chill, damp wind stung their faces. The immense and empty plain with its cold shadows wore an ominous look under the lowering sky; a look that clutched at the breast.
"I t'ink it snow bam-by," Rina had said.