CHAPTER XV.
WHAT THE SCOUTS FOUND.
When the sun rose the next morning—for the day broke clear and cloudless with a keen, frosty atmosphere—its rays fell on a heap of smoldering ruins, encircled by a dozen charred trees burnt and blackened to their very tops. This was all that remained of Emmett Darke’s cabin home.
The four men, Darke, Clancy Vere, Leander Maybob, the giant hunter, and Pete Wimple, a tried and trusty scout and Indian-fighter, were at the appointed place of rendezvous at a very early hour, and, well mounted on four fleet, strong horses that Clancy and the scout had obtained at the settlement, they were at daybreak dashing over the smooth, level prairie in pursuit of Ku-nan-gu-no-nah and his party.
For hours they kept on at a rapid, even gallop, which they neither quickened nor slackened. Clancy and the scout, riding side by side and keeping a sharp look-out ahead for any signs of the enemy, while Darke and the giant hunter were ever on the alert to guard against the approach of any hostile party from the rear.
None of the four had spoken more than a few words since they left the big pine, hours before, even Leander Maybob, usually so loquacious, maintaining a thoughtful and unbroken silence.
The day continued as it had dawned, clear and sun-shiny, the pure, bracing air inspiring the little band to more than common vigilance and alertness, while it added fresh vigor to their steeds, and they kept on at the same quick, regular rate of speed until mid-day without meeting with adventure of any kind.
Then Pete Wimple drew his horse up suddenly, and in obedience to his low-spoken command, the three others reined in their horses.
“What is it, Pete?” asked Clancy.
“I don’t know for sartin,” and the scout, shading his eyes with his hand, looked long and earnestly across the wide, grassy plain before them. Following the direction of his gaze, the others saw dimly in the distance a thin blue cloud of smoke rising from the surface of the prairie.
“It’s a fire!” said Darke.