There were stretches of the prairie where the turf, hard and dry, had taken no impression. An ordinary traveller might have supposed himself the first to pass over the ground. But Zeb Stump was not of this class; and although he could not always distinguish the hoof marks, he knew within an inch where they would again become visible—on the more moist and softer patches of the prairie.
If at any place conjecture misled him, it was only for a short distance, and he soon corrected himself by a traverse.
In this half-careless, half-cautious way, he had approached within a mile of Poindexter’s plantation. Over the tops of the mezquite trees the crenelled parapet was in sight; when something he saw upon the ground caused a sudden change in his demeanour. A change, too, in his attitude; for instead of remaining on the back of his mare, he flung himself out of the saddle; threw the bridle upon her neck; and, rapidly passing in front of her, commenced taking up the trail afoot.
The mare made no stop, but continued on after him—with an air of resignation, as though she was used to such eccentricities.
To an inexperienced eye there was nothing to account for this sudden dismounting. It occurred at a place where the turf appeared untrodden by man, or beast. Alone might it be inferred from Zeb’s speech, as he flung himself out of the saddle:
“His track! goin’ to hum!” were the words muttered in a slow, measured tone; after which, at a slower pace, the dismounted hunter kept on along the trail.
In a little time after it conducted him into the chapparal; and in less to a stop—sudden, as if the thorny thicket had been transformed into a chevaux-de-frise, impenetrable both to him and his “critter.”
It was not this. The path was still open before him—more open than ever. It was its openness that had furnished him with a cause for discontinuing his advance.
The path sloped down into a valley below—a depression in the prairie, along the concavity of which, at times, ran a tiny stream—ran arroyo. It was now dry, or only occupied by stagnant pools, at long distances apart. In the mud-covered channel was a man, with a horse close behind him—the latter led by the bridle.
There was nothing remarkable in the behaviour of the horse; he was simply following the lead of his dismounted rider.