"Nor do I," said Arenberg, "but sometimes I believe. Now I suggest that we ride toward the northwest. I believe that good hunting grounds are in that direction beyond this forest, and perhaps the Comanches may have been on the plain there, and may now be seeking shelter in this wilderness."
"It's as good a theory as any," said Phil, "and we'll try it."
They rode for several hours toward the northwest, passing from the region of heavy forest into that of the scrub timber, and again into heavy forest as they approached the slopes of the higher mountains. They were now at least twenty miles from The Silver Cup, and it was past midday. They had brought jerked venison with them, and they ate their noon meal on horseback. But Phil wanted water, and he saw a clear white line leading among the trees, which he thought might indicate a brook flowing under the ice and snow. He dismounted, scraped away the snow and found that he was right. He broke the ice, took a good drink, and then noticed a trail on the far side of the brook. It was unmistakably that of a single horse, and he called excitedly to Arenberg.
"Look, Hans," he said. "Doesn't this show that an Indian pony has passed here?"
Arenberg came at once, and when he looked down at the trail his eyes sparkled with a kind of exultant joy. But he showed no excitement otherwise.
"It iss the trail of a single Indian pony," he said. "We will follow it. It iss not likely that a lone warrior rides in this region. He goes to join others."
Phil looked closely at Arenberg. He was quite sure that his comrade considered this a sign, the first sign that had come in the long, long search. He knew how the stout heart must be throbbing within the German's powerful chest.
"Lead on, Hans," he said. "I think you're right."
The two followed the trail at a good walk. It lay before them in the snow as plain as a railroad track. There was but little undergrowth here, and they saw far among the stems of the trees. They were quite sure that danger lay before them, since they might ride at any moment into an ambush, but they kept on without hesitation, although they watched well with two pairs of unusually keen eyes. In this manner they rode about five miles, and then Arenberg's eyes began to scintillate again. The pony's trail was merged into that of three or four more coming from the north.
"It iss so! It iss so!" he said softly, although excitement now showed in his tone. "The Comanches have come! Presently more riders will enter the trail, and beyond will lie their camp. Now, young Herr Philip, it iss for us to go with great care."