“At what point?”
“There, to the left;” and the Frenchman pointed in this direction. “I did not see it well; it might have been a stray animal.”
“I seed it, Cap’n,” said Lincoln, closing up; “it wur a mustang.”
“Mounted, think you?”
“I ain’t confident; I only seed its hips. We were a-gwine too fast to get a good sight on the critter; but it wur a mustang—I seed that cl’ar as daylight.”
I sat for a moment, hesitating.
“I kin tell yer whether it wur mounted, Cap’n,” continued the hunter, “if yer’ll let me slide down and take a squint at the critter’s tracks.”
“It is out of our way. Perhaps you had better,” I added, after a little reflection. “Raoul, you and Chane dismount and go with the sergeant. Hold their horses, Jack.”
“If yer’ll not object, Cap’n,” said Lincoln, addressing me in a whisper, “I’d rayther go ’ithout kump’ny. Thar ain’t two men I’d like, in a tight fix, better’n Rowl and Chane; but I hev done a smart chance o’ trackin’ in my time, an’ I allers gets along better when I’m by myself.”
“Very well, Sergeant; as you wish it, go alone. We shall wait for you.”